If Maria had thought herself capable of it, she would have thought she fell in love with all those little doggish gestures of his. As it was, they simply sank deep into the hollow of her chest like quiet weights dropped in a deep pond and for the first time in much longer than she'd been a prisoner, she actually slept soundly. Warm and safe and - cared for and it was hard to tell which of the three was stranger.

When he moves away, she wakes up but it's loggy and her head feels thick. While she lets him go, her fingers trail on him when he leaves. Sleeping deep is unusual enough and it takes her mind a long moment to catch and start firing again. And when it does though, she sits up sharply enough to make her eyesight go black for a moment, remembering where she is, where they are and why his not being in arm's range is bad. Her eyes clear just in time to see the first shiver of fur and changing skin go over him and realize what's happening.

She's curious, she's not so far gone that she's lost that, but it also seems intrusive and so she turns and shifts over to get the bottle of water instead of watching. She remembers screaming the first time he changed, his, not hers and she's not sure if the fact he's silent is something positive. But the time she's worked feeling back into her fingers and gotten to her feet, he's done. If anyone told her how often she'd get to see a naked Steve Rogers when she'd first met him, she'd question their sanity. And their interest in the fact. She settles down in a crouch next to him, just a little at his back as if she's guarding it somehow, and rests a hand very lightly on his back. Her voice is still a little scratchy but its gentle too.

"I guess you really don't have anything that sparkles." She offers the half bottle of water with her other hand. "Only drink half."