[ steve settles down, legs crossed and posture unthreatening, and after a long moment's hesitation, another long moment because he's already hesitated so much, because every moment is instinct and checking instinct against what he rationally knows and it's exhausting, he sits down as well.
he doesn't cross his legs- instead, he sits with his back to the low reiling surrounding the edge of the roof, one leg drawn up and the other stretched out in front of him. it's a position that'll allow him to get up quickly in case of attack, and while he doesn't expect one, it's an instinct he usually doesn't fight.
he does fight the instinct to reach for the knife again, to start playing with it. instead, he looks down on his hands, flesh and metal, fingers of both loosely held over his thighs. ]
no subject
he doesn't cross his legs- instead, he sits with his back to the low reiling surrounding the edge of the roof, one leg drawn up and the other stretched out in front of him. it's a position that'll allow him to get up quickly in case of attack, and while he doesn't expect one, it's an instinct he usually doesn't fight.
he does fight the instinct to reach for the knife again, to start playing with it. instead, he looks down on his hands, flesh and metal, fingers of both loosely held over his thighs. ]
Sorry.
[ for freaking out on you. ]