Occasionally knocking his elbow into Bucky’s as they walk, or good naturedly shoulder checking him after they round a little tree planted into spaces on the curb side of the sidewalk, Steve looks far more relaxed than he had been. “Do you do this often? Are you some sort of science fiction cowboy now?” he asks, seeing Peter, John and another man he doesn’t recognize but keeps looking back at him about half a block away.

Cardiff looks like a much prettier New York, beautiful and winding streets with lots of trees and flowers and little front gardens to houses every few blocks in the middle of shops and high rise office and apartment buildings. It’s eclectic and Steve feels calm here.

“I kind of like that for you,” he grins, adjusting the weight of his shield on his shoulder.