[ Steve has a feeling that this man can be demanding in his own, endearing sort of way. Much like the suit - specifications and cuts and an eye that's for details beyond suiting fabric. He hadn't exactly meant to suggest something as upscale as the man's clearly dreaming up, but he's certainly not in the position to say no. Not when a client wants to spend money on him, not when this client wants to. It feels a little more sincere, even if he's already all too aware of how different this has been.

The track of those eyes along his face, his shoulder, his chest and beyond blooms warmth beneath his collar and he ducks his head in a near sheepish, warm smile. ]

I don't know that they'd want me as a spokesperson, but I'll take your word for it. How's that?

[ Tilting his head, he crosses his legs loosely at the knee and slouches into his chair as Zemo makes his assessment. He hums, thoughtful, at a few of the guesses and he finally leans forward, setting his chin into the palm of his hand. He's quiet, watching Zemo with a quiet sort of amusement. ]

I watch what I eat, I get very tired of eggs but they're easy. Can't mess up a good egg. [ A shrug, a huff of a laugh. They're cheap, is what he wants to say. His diet is inexpensive for the most part, and he keeps it that way. Inexpensive might mean plain, but he can handle that most of the time. ]

I rarely get to sleep in very often, though. For a variety of reasons. [ Clients, mostly, who nudge him out of bed or who wake him early for another round. Occasionally it's his mother, or Buck. ]

But I treat myself on those days, you're right. Probably shouldn't, but sue me.

[ He winks, playful and easy, and drops his hand back to the table, leaning on his elbows. ]

So not bad.