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"I know another Captain Rogers. She goes by Steve. The resemblance is uncanny. Let me guess—you know a Bruce?"

Familiar blue eyes blink at her.

Then, with a heavy sigh, Steph rounds the seating area to find an empty chair nearby, a furrow between her eyebrows. "I do, yes. And it is good to meet you, Dr. Banner."

By way of being friendly, Bridget sits forward a little on the couch and sets her tablet down in her lap.

"Alien invasion, extradimensional artifact, rogue Norse god? Just so we're on the same page. In my world she turned out to be a goddess but I'm given to understand that's not, so to speak, universal."

Steph settles back in her chair, one leg tucked beneath her, and smirks a little at the sum-up. "No, I suppose not. But then, your Steve Rogers - or a Steve Rogers, I guess," and isn't that a weird thought, "told me he works with Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton.

"But Loki was a man-- well, he was male anyway."

"Clint and Natasha," Bridget confirms. "And me and Thor and Tony. But our Loki was a woman."

Her smile flickers, struggling to keep down a full grin of amusement.

"Claire and Nikolai, Thor, Tony, Bruce, and me."

"That's an interesting point of divergence between universes," she muses. "I have to think that whatever controls the door to this place is picking us out on purpose."

"For fun?" Steph guesses, skeptical. She takes another drink from her water and runs a hand through her hair, a little abashed to be caught sweaty and unmade up in an- acquaintance's? - presence. Though Bridget doesn't seem to care.

"Have you met your, um... have you met Bruce?"

"I have not," she admits. And no, she doesn't care about Steph's sweat and lack of makeup. She is perhaps the last person in the world who'd care, considering. "I'm not entirely sure it would be a good idea. It's not likely that we'd argue, but if we did..."

It wouldn't be pretty.

Right.

It's not that Steph didn't like Steve, exactly, but she hadn't met him at a good time for either of them. He'd taken it all right, she thinks, but Steph... well, she's not entirely proud of how she took the news.

She's not sure how to continue the conversation either. Drawing attention to Bru-Bri- Dr. Banner's condition doesn't seem right, but neither does ignoring it completely.

"I don't think that'd be specific to you, if it helps," she finds herself saying, glancing up at the woman hesitantly. "It's bound to rattle anyone, coming up on a- a double like that."

Oh, yes, the dodging. Bridget is familiar with the dodging. She tries not to hold it against anyone, especially people like—Cap, who is so genuinely nice it's almost painful to think about.

"Yeah. That would be what worries me," she says wryly. "Thankfully, I don't rattle easily."

"You'd probably handle it better than I did," Steph admits, smile equal parts friendly and sheepish. Dr. Banner's careful calm has always been something she's admired and it might have been really useful that first day.

"That might depend," says Bridget. "I like to think he and I would both be better than that, but in the place where I keep my secret ridiculous fears there's a mental image of him joking about me waking up naked in strange places."

...Possibly she should've thought about that one a little more before she let it out of her mouth. Well, too late now.

She might be surprised. Where Steve most likely would have blushed and stammered, Steph-- well, she does blush, yes, but it's far less scandalous for a woman to talk about being naked in front of another woman.

So she laughs a little, too, soft, and not without sympathy.

And, luckily, holds her tongue enough not to immediately reply with what bothered her the most about talking to Steve.

"Honestly," she says after a moment, deciding on the lesser of two evils that had upset her, even if it's the one she's least proud of, "just the fact that there even was a Captain America who was a guy made me mad. He didn't need to do anything more than that."

"Yeah." She nods. "I get where you're coming from."

She quirks a smile.

"Did he do anything more than that? I mean, I can't exactly imagine him being rude about it. He's still, fundamentally, you."

Steph considers this for a moment, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together.

"Thank you? I think."

"Yes, I did mean that as a compliment, or at least as a positive observation."

"He's a gentleman," Steph admits after that confirmation, with the slightest uncomfortable squirm for her phrasing. Though that's really the only word she has to describe the man she met, his manners. "And he didn't seem upset, finding out about me. I can't really imagine him getting mad about anything, if not that."

"Can't say I'm surprised," says Bridget.

Steph smiles, a flicker of expression as friendly as it is automatically polite. America's Sweetheart is rather used to having her name and totally equated with polite, ladylike, demure. It's not insulting, precisely. Just presumptuous.

That smile fades a little as she wonders what it's like for Steve, if it's something he would understand.

"I like Bruce," she says after a moment, unsure. "He's a good man. We're all glad to have him on the team."

"Thanks. I think," she says, very wryly.

She could echo back Bridget's words, make a joke out of it, It's a compliment. And it is a compliment, to Bruce. But complimenting Steve doesn't mean a thing to Steph - they're different people.

She takes another drink from her water and nods to the tablet. "Are you working?"

"Nope. Playing games," she admits with a smile.

"Angry Birds?"

Steph might sound a little hopeful.

She laughs.

"No, Bejeweled. Although I do play Angry Birds."