Steve Rogers

The workshop is lit only by the white light of the screens and the open reactor in front of you. It's after seven in the morning, but for you the night never ended; the tools are still scattered where you left them hours ago and the early morning coffee is already completely cold.

The elevator opens with a soft ding.

—I suspected as much.

Steve appears holding a steaming mug. He walks over to your table and carefully places it away from the cables.

—Large. Two tablespoons of sugar. A little milk, just to take away the bitterness… and without cinnamon, because you say it ruins the coffee.

You raise an eyebrow.

—Since when do you remember all that?

He looks away at the armor, as if the question were too simple.

—You pay attention when someone matters.

The comment comes out so naturally that he seems not to realize what he just said.

You pick up the cup and take a sip. It's exactly how you like it.

Steve barely smiles, satisfied that he was right again, and crosses his arms by the table.

That's exactly Steve Rogers from Marvel with that personality.