Neither was Tony, she thinks. It's unfair to compare them, but they're the only two billionaire playboys who gallivant as vigilantes in their spare time. And neither of them like tea, so there's that, too. Eventually, probably, she will be better at instinctively separating them but for now it is just a consequence of their outward similarities.

Instead, however, she murmurs, "Neither was my brother," as she steps into the small kitchen to pop a k cup into the Kureg. He's lucky she has coffee, honestly, but it's more for Sam and Scott when they visit. Steve will drink tea with her.

"I don't have any milk, but I suppose you take it black? Maybe a little sweet?"