Natasha nodded to her while Steve shot her a quick smile. Fortunately they weren't far into their shopping trip yet so he didn't have a lot of bags, only a few. Natasha started browsing, and Steve picked a spot to wait.

Hillary let them be, going around the small store to keep straightening. She had to keep on top of things, or it would get out of hand very quickly. She started to scratch at her shoulders twice, and caught herself.

"Still doing alright?" she asked, once she'd straightened a few more things and they'd been in the store for a little while.

"I need a key to the dressing room." Natasha had some clothes slung over her arm, and she quirked an eyebrow at Hillary. Steve just shook his head a bit.

"Of course," Hillary said, grabbing the key and opening up a dressing room. "What name would you like me to put on the door?" That was the safest way she could think of to phrase the question.

"Rogers," Natasha said with a smirk, moving inside and shutting the door. Steve snorted at her.

"Very cute," he said dryly.

Hillary glanced between the two, and used a dry-erase marker to write the given name on the door tag, along with her own name under 'stylist'. That's when she really looked at Steve.

He was much more handsome than the media really did him justice for, and Hillary found she could probably watch him for hours without getting tired of it. When she met his eyes, though, something odd happened.

Bitter cold. Wind through a broken cockpit. "I've got to put it in the water!"

Hillary blinked, eyes wide, and looked away again. It seemed like something straight out of her recent nightmares, and she had no idea why it was in her head now. The voice, however... That was new.

Steve blinked when he had the oddest sensation, like his skin needed to be scratched away and replaced. He shifted his weight, squashing the sensation. That... was odd. Very odd. He'd have to figure it out later.

"S-sorry," Hillary said, taking a step back. "I didn't mean to, um..." She shook her head again. "Let me know if she needs anything else, alright?" She hurried back up to the counter, scratching one of her shoulders through her shirt as she did so.

Steve watched her go and then shook himself. His shoulder really itched now, and he almost absently rubbed it against a nice corner to soothe some of the itching.

But more odd was the brief flash of copper he could have sworn he'd seen on her.

Hillary took refuge briefly up at the counter. Something odd was happening, and she had no idea what, and it was setting her a bit on edge. She needed to calm down before she started over-producing acid again. She could already feel it collecting under her tongue and in the back of her mouth.

Steve didn't press her, just giving her some space and trying to sort through the odd feelings. He was briefly feeling anxious about something, but it wasn't quite right. He knew how he felt when he was anxious, and something wasn't adding up, it wasn't normal.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him when she came out of the dressing room.

"You look like your phone just did something unexpected again," she commented. And indeed, he did look a bit concerned and confused.

"I... yeah," Steve said slowly. "But it wasn't the phone this time." He tapped his fingers against his thigh.

Natasha raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him to continue. And he would, if she gave him long enough.

"I feel... itchy. Not itchy like itchy, more like I've got a bad sunburn that's peeling," Steve said, scratching the back of his shoulder against the corner again. "And almost anxious." Which they both knew was weird.

Now that was interesting.

"Did something happen in the five minutes I was in there?" Natasha asked.

"Nothing much," Steve said with a shrug. "Apparently I scared the poor girl who works here, she ran off behind the counter after she looked at me."

"She didn't look scared when we walked in," Natasha pointed out. She gathered up the things she wanted so far and headed over to the shoes. She wasn't done shopping, and she was fairly sure Steve would try to apologize, if given the chance.

Steve would try to apologize, he just wasn't sure what for. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, after all. But he could still try.

So he made his way over to the counter.

Hillary had mostly managed to get herself under control at that point. Looking at him made her feel the phantom cold again, but it wasn't strong enough yet for her to really react.

"Is she still finding everything okay?" she asked. It was the only thing she could say at the moment and still be at least sort of professional.

"Yeah, looks like she's having fun," Steve said. "Look, I'm sorry if I did anything to upset you." Because he still couldn't figure out what he'd done, but she had definitely only gotten spooked after looking at him.

"What?" Hillary blinked. "Oh-- No, it's-- I mean--" She shook her head. "It's alright, it was just... something personal, that's all. It wasn't your fault." She scratched her shoulder absently, but stopped as soon as she realized she was doing it.

"Alright." Steve wasn't quite convinced, though. "Let me know if I need to hurry her along or anything, I understand, I can usually corral her well enough."

"Don't worry about it," Hillary said. "It's not like it's busy today, it's fine."

"Alright." Steve looked at her one last time before he backed off and went to check and see how many piles Natasha had accumulated.