It takes all of one short glance to know with certainty that the man to his side has served. He appears to be in good health, is of the right age and build, and once he knows to look, he can all but read it in the other man's eyes. There are things in this life that cannot be survived without leaving their scars, and fewer still that leave scars deeper than war. Having finished toweling off his hands, he tosses the crumpled towel to the trash, then offers a handshake. "It's was '44 when I left my world," he says. It's more or less true; he doesn't consider the strange world that he was thrust into to be his own, even if he is slowly warming to it. That's a matter of necessity above all else. He adds, "Captain Steven Rogers. Call me Steve."