combureret
”— Steve ?”
… What the hell was this? A dream? There was something incredibly off. There was Steve, flesh and blood, as if he had never died in the first place. And yet here was Claire, beyond that point, having witnessed his death. He was dead. Gone. But why was he there before her? It had to have been a dream — there was no other way to properly describe it.
Her hands trembled, but she gripped them into fists to make them stop. And all she did was stare for a few good moments, glossed lips parting, as if she were to speak. Yet all he received was a hitched breath, utter confusion etched into her features.
"Claire!" Steve steps in as if to hug the red-head but stops awkwardly at her cold reception.
"You'd think after all this time you'd be happy to see me... What kind of welcoming greeting was that!" Steve murmured, rubbing his hand over his neck a little.
