The bartender looks at him expectantly, so Steve says he’ll have the same. It doesn’t really matter when alcohol won’t do anything for him, a fact he has tested extensively in the wake of certain events. The most he’ll probably do with a drink is take a few sips, because that's what you do at these things, no matter the decade. Dress up, play nice, and hope it’s worth something in the long run.

Still, this has never been his world, and these aren’t people who are used to being told no. Playing nice has become difficult as the evening wears on, and now he has new problems.

His lips quirk at Tony’s response. It’s true they should at least try to salvage what’s left of the situation, even if Steve wants nothing more than an excuse to leave. With his hearing, it’s easy to pick up snatches of conversation as people drift past, speculation already shifting from surprise and alarm to pure gossipy intrigue. There’s probably a strongly worded email in their future, if the PR person still has their job by morning.

Tony angles himself towards Steve, and the full force of that attention is much more compelling than anything else happening around them. Along with the promise that they won’t be here for much longer.

“Well,” he muses, picking up the glass placed in front of him. “Didn’t think being pawed at would become an occupational hazard but here we are. Sorry I wasn’t around to scare yours off.”