[ Steve huffs a soft laugh as he rounds back to his own seat, settling in with the ease of the man who might as well own the place. He fakes it well, being comfortable everywhere he goes, and it's done a great deal to advance his career. Clients love someone who just fits in with little preamble or effort.
Leaning back in his chair just slightly, he laughs again, sudden and warm before he looks at Zemo with brows raised, eyes briefly flitting up and down what of the man's figure he can see. ]
I'm not perfect, and you're definitely not among the mortals, struggling. Not in my eyes.
[ If Steve ever had the time or the choice to decide on a preferred Type, Helmut Zemo might well fit it. Slender but broad where it matters, alluring eyes and dark hair against freckled skin. Part of him wonders, briefly, what those freckles might taste like, how long it would take to map the beauty marks with his tongue. Those are thoughts saved for post-gala affairs and dark car rides, he knows, and he knows as well he doesn't get a say in who he chooses, not really. Not when things are tight.
He clears his throat softly, shrugs one shoulder. Sure, Helmut Zemo is pretty in the face and he can already tell he'll be an interesting client from the e-mail and the meeting alone. ]
The embassy right? I don't think they'll know what hit them when we walk in. [ A small, charming smile, the waggle of his eyebrows. ] But I'm glad I don't disappoint.
no subject
[ Steve huffs a soft laugh as he rounds back to his own seat, settling in with the ease of the man who might as well own the place. He fakes it well, being comfortable everywhere he goes, and it's done a great deal to advance his career. Clients love someone who just fits in with little preamble or effort.
Leaning back in his chair just slightly, he laughs again, sudden and warm before he looks at Zemo with brows raised, eyes briefly flitting up and down what of the man's figure he can see. ]
I'm not perfect, and you're definitely not among the mortals, struggling. Not in my eyes.
[ If Steve ever had the time or the choice to decide on a preferred Type, Helmut Zemo might well fit it. Slender but broad where it matters, alluring eyes and dark hair against freckled skin. Part of him wonders, briefly, what those freckles might taste like, how long it would take to map the beauty marks with his tongue. Those are thoughts saved for post-gala affairs and dark car rides, he knows, and he knows as well he doesn't get a say in who he chooses, not really. Not when things are tight.
He clears his throat softly, shrugs one shoulder. Sure, Helmut Zemo is pretty in the face and he can already tell he'll be an interesting client from the e-mail and the meeting alone. ]
The embassy right? I don't think they'll know what hit them when we walk in. [ A small, charming smile, the waggle of his eyebrows. ] But I'm glad I don't disappoint.