She doesn't seem to notice him as she slouches down on the bench, and for a moment he considers getting up and going but something tells him that she's too busy sobbing to notice the man trying not to be noticed beside her.
He's not sure what one's supposed to do in situations like this, I mean it is New York and sometimes people just want to cry it out at park benches as the day ends without being bothered. Who's he to judge?
Still a cold and distant part of him aches, she looks no older then nineteen, and the treacherous part of his brain reminds him of the sisters he once had. He wants to console her but being approached by a weird guy at a park this close to nighttime might be a more traumatic experience for the girl, so instead he keeps quiet and hopes the girls not to bad off.
Eventually her quiet sobs stop and she just sits there looking out onto the park and it's dwindling visitors, eyes puffy and red, dark streaks running down her face, and a tissue clutched in her thin hands.
He thinks about leaving but figures she still hasn't noticed him and there's some unspoken rule about park benches in this city that you kind of do your own thing, in your own bubble, on your own bench.
So when he hears the sound of rustling clothes and she suddenly sitting on the side closest to him it catches him a bit off guard.
She's holding something out to him and it takes him a bit of time to realize it's a tissue much like the one she was clutching, he looks down at it confused, he's not the one crying, why does he need a tissue?
As if sensing his confusion, she clears her throat before speaking in a hoarse voice.
"It's for the makeup, if you don't get all of it off you'll break out."
He grabs it with his flesh hand, making sure to keep his other hand safely in the pocket where it's been the whole time, still he has no idea what to do with the wet tissue in his hand.
He looks over at the girl, who seemed to pull out another tissue and a small mirror, dragging it gently across her eyes. He watches as she repeats this, each time clearing off a bit of her smeared makeup.
He figures it won't hurt to get the rest of the gunk off his face, so he attempts to guess at where it all is.
When he looks over at her again she's giving him an odd expression before handing him the small mirror in her hands.
"It's a lot easier when you can see what you're doing."
He grunts a sort of reply as he notices how much he had actually missed the first time around, most of it underneath the rim of his hat. Which popping off causes a cascade of tangles to pool underneath his chin.
Frustrated he hands her back her mirror, ready to battle with the demons on his head.
She snorts, handing him a small circular elastic.
"For your hair."
He accepts it, watching as she takes one out of her own hair-it falling a lot more gracefully then his, then maneuvers it to sit atop her head.
It takes him a couple tries but eventually he gets a crude imitation and the look on her face looks satisfied enough for him to know he succeeded.
They sit quietly for sometime before she opens her mouth and he finds that he isn't ready to bolt.
"My name's Lucille, but everyone calls me Luz."
She pauses waiting for him to introduce himself. When he doesn't she continues.
"Those wipes I gave you, they're makeup remover wipes, they really help. You can pick them up at any drugstore, they're kinda pricey but worth the time they save you. I get the oil free ones so that I don't break out."
He continues to look out onto the park, where the sun is setting in front of them, and she continues to talk. She tells him about her favorite black eyeshadows and how there's a huge difference between pencil liner and gel liner. She tells him about the types of hair ties sold, and her favorite ones, plus which are the strongest. She gives him a detailed step by step on how to exfoliate and take care of your face before you go to sleep at night. She gives him tips on conditioning his hair and what type of comb to use after showering. She goes on until the sun sets and he lets her because there's some part of him that enjoys her company.
Eventually something in her bag beeps and when he looks down at it she frowns, before clearing her throat and standing up.
"Well that's my cue to leave, if I don't get home soon Ma will send out the hounds." she gives him a shy smile, walking backwards towards the street. "But it was nice to meet you, and thanks for putting up with me as I rambled!"
She waves at him and he can't help but wave back, this time with his metal hand-it's dark she's not likely to see it.
He's about to turn back to the empty scene in front of him when she turns back around.
"Oh and James-" he stills, metal hand clenching inside his jacket. "I know you're probably not ready yet, but know when you are Captain Rogers probably really misses you, and I think he'd understand."
There's panic in his eyes that she seems to sense, She gives him a soft smile.
"I volunteer at this daycare center and we go to the Smithsonian a lot, specially right now with the cool exhibit on Captain America. He goes there a lot, sometimes he just sits and watches the footage they play, other times he sketches, but always no matter what he ends the day with the exhibit about you, almost like he's saying 'Goodbye, I'll see you tomorrow'. I-I wasn't sure it was you when I approached but-with your hair up there's no missing it."
He doesn't say anything and after a moment she nods and walks away.
If he follows her home just to make sure she gets their safely, well no one ever really saw him.
And if months later there's a half used package of wipes on his vanity, and two bottles of conditioner in his shower, along with countless hairties thrown hazardously around his apartment as Steve cooks them both dinner, no one really questions it.