[ This isn't Steve Rogers' first rodeo. He goes through the motions: waking up disoriented, in unfamiliar surroundings, his enhanced senses on overdrive taking in atmospheric changes. He jolts when he picks up on another heartbeat, slower and calmer than his. ]

They didn't say there'd be roommates.

[ He doesn't sound upset. Steve is used to shared living quarters, especially since he has been on the run. He can work with this. ]

[ In true nightclub fashion, this place is too dark, too crowded, too loud. It's an attack on the senses and Steve grimaces, grinding his teeth as he keeps to the outskirts of the room. He is nursing a drink that he has yet to sip from: the liquid swirls in its glass like a dazzling blue nebula. He doubts it will affect him like it should; most drink and drugs don't.

Here goes nothing, he thinks, and throws the drink back like a shot.

Suddenly, he is staring back at himself from a distance of just a few feet. It doesn't just feel like an out of body experience, it is one. He looks down at a pair of hands he doesn't recognize. In the next blink, he is himself again, now staring at someone who looks just as confused as he feels.

His body must have metabolized the drink so quickly that the effects lasted but a few seconds. ]

What was that?

voice | un: rogers

How long does it take to get used to having this thing in your head?