Owner	Pose
Steve Rogers	Summer in August in New York City. Steve doesn't remember the earlier days fondly, not without air conditioning and the impossibility of catching a full breath of air that didn't smell like the fishmongers' tossings a few blocks over. Presently, he's able to breathe just fine as he keeps up a steady, ground-eating lope along one of the main paths of the Park. In grey athletic pants and a simple light-green tee-shirt, his white shoes flash as he covers the miles with a zen-like ease. Many, many miles. This is his thirteenth lap of this particular branching of the many concrete-lined trails through the greenbelt. No phone to distract him, no earbuds to block out sound. Just the steady rhythm of his heart and feet as he churns on, intending to keep at it for at least another hour if he can. Sweat darkens the middle of his shoulderblades. The temperature is, after all, warm.
Peter Parker	It's somewhere past the southwestern edge of the park, just south of the lake, when he hears the other runners. Two of them, and they are not jogging, they are SPRINTING. Feet pounding along the pavement...short, harsh breaths...and as Steve sees them running, he can tell they did not make thoughtful plans involving a normal run. The two men are wearing tennis shoes, sweats, and t-shirts, but also have on hoodies with bulging pockets. One of them is also carrying a purse that does not match the outfit...or the gender, unless Louis Vuitton has gotten interested in what people today are calling "man-purses." Ah, the days when a guy could carry a satchel... They are also running hell-bent for leather, as if being pursued. Then something can be seen jumping from tree branch to tree branch to light pole, a thin guy in red-and-blue longjohns...and who is apparently a public menace, if you believe the DAILY BUGLE. "Come on, you guys!" Spider-Man calls after them as he gains on them. "You're ALWAYS making me late!"
Steve Rogers	Windsprints with Louis Vuitton purses are not on the Captain's usual list of daily observations around the Park. As he closes in one them from behind at his inexorable pace, his attention flicks to the suit-wearing individual still high up off the ground. Wheat-gold eyebrows lift. Making the red-and-blue individual late, is it? Memory jogs. Oh yes: that particular public menace, seen now and then around the city and on the front page of one of the more bombastic papers printed daily. Steve wears no baseball cap to render him practically invisible, so there's no point in hiding what he's capable of. The super-soldier simply increases his speed until he's about ten feet behind the windsprinters and says in an enviously even tone of voice, "'s'rude to make people late. Or steal their things. Your mothers ever taught you this?"
Peter Parker	"RUN FASTER!" the guy in front of Steve, a malcontent named Rick, yells. He is running as fast as he can, and Steve can tell he's not built for distance. Unfortunately, he's also the one with the purse, and you are a bad thief if you can't thieve correctly. Rick tries a quick glance to his left and sees Donny peel off. He will deal with Donny later, right now he has to save his own neck, and the swag. Donny turns left, into the street as drivers lay on horns. He might be hoping that Spider-Man will go after Rick. Sadly, he hopes in vain. A webline snags his upper back and suddenly he's airborne, legs still pumping. Another jolt of webbing, and Donny finds himself hung from a lightpole, Spider-Man finger-gunning him. "Hang out for a bit." Spidey looks over to his right as Rick continues to run, followed by a guy who seems to be doing an AWFUL good job keeping up with him without breaking a... Spider-Man blinked. Is it...? No, it CAN'T be...
Steve Rogers	Divide and conquer it will be. It's a tactic Steve's not unfamiliar with, not after his years on the front, and while Donny might break cover like a single bird from the flock, Rick still has the mulish presence of the Captain right behind him. He practically matches the man stride-for-stride as he pulls up beside him, wearing a smile which doesn't reach his true-blue eyes. "Thinkin' that's not yours," he comments of the purse in particular. There's a swift reach of a broad hand and suddenly, like slamming on the brakes, Steve's come to a halt with a sturdy grip of the back of Rick's hoodie. He doesn't lift the man off the ground, but there's no going anywhere unless Rick wants to try shimmying out of his garment. "Do me a favor 'nd drop the purse 'nd take a breather?"
Peter Parker	Rick nearly goes off his feet as they get ahead of him, but he whirls around to get himself righted, pulling out the switch-knife as he does. He pulls away as far as he can from Rogers, holding the knife out in front of him, between him and Steve. "Lemme go, jagoff, or you'll be scoopin' up your own intestines!" Rick barks. Much like a terrier. Spider-Man lands on the lightpole above them, then gets a closer look. Facial recognition confirms it, and for a moment, he is flummoxed. Then his mouth recovers before the rest of him does. "Idiot. You might wanna re-think pulling a knife on a war veteran, Rick. Drop the knife now and save yourself some embarrassment...?"
Steve Rogers	"He's right, y'know. Seen a few of those over the years. They bend pretty easy if you torque 'em right," Steve informs poor Rick as he doesn't look at the knife. He looks dead into the man's eyes. There's no fear in the Captain's face, only a staid readiness and a flicker of what must be...dare we say...disappointment. His grip on the back of Rick's now rotated hoodie doesn't relent either. "Listen to him," Steve continues, tilting his head towards the red-and-blue-suited individual. "Drop the knife, drop the purse, 'nd sit down. Everybody's got cell phones 'nd it's a sure bet the authorities are already on their way. Don't wanna add an aggravated assault attempt to petty theft charges."
Peter Parker	Just him. Just his face and those blue-steel eyes, and it takes all the screw-you out of him in moments. The hand drops, and the knife slides out of the losening palm to clatter on the pavement. Rick drops the purse a few moments later, and he does not so much sit as let gravity take over, his legs turning to cooked spaghetti as he plops down on the pavement. Spidey blinks, realizing something had just happened. Whenever he said stuff like that, people either ignored him or opened fire. With more than a little sadness, he realized he was never going to get that kind of respect. Then again, he'd never fought in a world war or punched Hitler. In the face. Captain Rogers EARNED the awe he instilled in others. "Uhm..." his voice cracked a little, and he coughed. "Uhm, I called the cops. They should be here in a minute or two..."
Steve Rogers	The Captain's grip on the hoodie relents at the very second he can see the brittle defiance crackle like shattered glass. He takes a step back to give Rick space, still watching the man and not the objects in his measured manner. A long sigh in what must be some modicum of relief -- good, a fistfight averted in this case is a good thing. "A wise choice. Sit tight 'nd breathe. Things'll be easier for it," he tells the purse-thief. Now he glances up at the suited individual on high and gives him one of those classical Rogersian once-overs. It might feel to peel away the costumed disguise without an iota of malice: simply a weighty, blue-eyed moment of measurement and calculation. "Good. You manage to see where the purse came from? Who it came from?" he asks of Spider-Man, his hands now rested on his hips as he continues breathing at an enviously un-elevated rate.
Peter Parker	Spider-Man nods. "Yeah, but I'm going to let the cops handle it. All I need is another 'colorful' editorial from the Bugle about how *I* am the real criminal by handling the stolen goods and being caught on film with them..." He realized he was looking down at Steve "Captain America" Rogers and that felt REALLY wrong for some reason. He hopped off the lightpole, landing lightly on his feet, and then realized the physical presence of the guy. For a moment, it was Old Peter Parker and Flash Thompson all over again. "Besides, it helps preserve chain of custody, and that means the courts will have an easier time punishing these two guys." He pauses, then says, "You're...Steve Rogers, right?"
Steve Rogers	Rick's given another cursory glance, but the purse-thief seems content to sit and silently bemoan his fate. He probably knows he's going nowhere now except into a pair of handcuffs. Steve nods, glancing back up at Spider-Man in time to see the young man dismount the light pole. He doesn't flinch as the vigilante lands nor does he change posture but for a loosening of his shoulders. Now he's approachable if no less seemingly in-charge by his projection of presence. "You're not wrong. Touching the evidence makes the job more difficult for everyone -- 'nd yes, been Steve Rogers since the nurse signed the paperwork." Finally, a bit of a smile shows, making the Captain more approachable yet. "Assuming you'd be Spider-Man? You being worried about being caught on film might as well confirm it," he notes, no doubt referencing the Bugle's stories.
Peter Parker	Spider-Man nods. And of COURSE he remembers the hyphen. Because he's Captain America, of course he would. "Well...look, apart from his beef with me, J. Jonah Jameson runs a tight ship at the BUGLE. He is outspoken for mutant rights, does a lot for the city, and although he freely...okay, EXHAUSTIVELY...speaks his mind on the Editorial page, he's never printed a lie. I think the last time the BUGLE had to print a retraction was before Nixon took office." Yep, the guy calls for Spidey's head like Henry II did for Thomas Becket and he can't help defend the guy. "Yeah...uhm, yessir. I'm Spider-Man. Got the longjohns, the webshooters and everything, too." He stopped, then his body posture shifted to embarrassed. "I'm...sorry for being flippant. Sometimes my mouth says go before my brain says no..."
Steve Rogers	Steve continues watching the young man -- he must be younger, what with his build and height, voice as well -- and tilts his head a few degrees to one side. The manner of how Spider-Man responds has his smile deepening a touch, now thinking about the beginnings of dimples. "Nothing to apologize about. Sometimes the filter doesn't settle in. Wouldn't be the first time someone's introduced themselves like that. Adrenaline wouldn't help the case either." His broad shoulders evince a shrug. "Nice to see you in-person rather'n on the front page of a paper. You usually out 'nd about this early in the day?" A beat and Steve adds, "Heard you were late for something regardless. Don't let me keep you if that's the case. Don't mind staying here 'nd making sure these two get properly admitted into custody." Including poor Donny all strung up still.
Peter Parker	Spider-Man BLINKS. Steve can actually see the irises. "OH NO! Hang on...!" He holds a hand to his head. "Hello? Listen, I...well, yes, but it's not my fault. Uhm...trouble with the subway. Yeah. Listen, I'll be there in...okay. Uhm, sure, we can reschedule for tomorrow. I PROMISE I'll be there at noon. Listen, sir, I'm really sorry, I...yes...yessir...All right. I understand, sir. Goodbye." He pauses, then looks to Steve. "Uhm...it's all good. I was able to reschedule the thing for tomorrow." He tries to sound like it's no big deal, that it isn't about his texts for classes at ESU in a few weeks. He's able to pull it off. Mostly.
Steve Rogers	Those expressive brows slowly lift and the chiseled jaw tucks as he listens to what must be something akin to a Bluetooth conversation inside the suit's fitted hood. Patiently, the man waits, and then when Spider-Man explains the results, he simply nods. "Sounds like whomever that was has a schedule to stick to. Hope it pans out well tomorrow if that's the case," he wishes in a mild-mannered truthfulness. A glance over his shoulder at the sudden sounds of sirens approaching still about two or three blocks out. "You thinking you still want to hang around or you gotta pull a disappearing act at this point?" There's a dry smile now on the Captain's face, as if he were familiar with the necessity of it not for himself, but in another.
Peter Parker	Spider-Man chuckles. "No, you go on. This is my problem, and I'll stick around long enough for the purse to get claimed, and then I'll mosey on out." He raises a hand, almost salutes, but decides against it and just waves. "Uhm, nice meeting you, sir."