[ With no immediate response, Steve simply sits there, letting the silence stretch out between them for as long as it has to. Some people might have found it uncomfortable, but he's spoken to enough traumatized soldiers that he has it in him to be patient. It isn't always that easy, getting the words out.

He doesn't order a drink for himself, which leaves him with little to do with his hands. Eventually he ends up pulling out his phone, just so he has something to keep them occupied, even though he's not actually doing much with it.

Eventually the words come, and Steve glances over, quiet and respectful as Michonne explains. Her kid, but not her kid. Someone she had taken in, then? She'd opened herself up to feel that wound twice? ]

Something similar happened to a teammate of mine. Her twin brother, who's dead back home, he showed up here. But it was just a week or two and he was gone again.

[ Sometimes it's easier to focus on someone else's pain than your own; that's why he tells her the story.

A pause, and then: ] I'm sorry. Is he okay, back where you come from?