Lance declared Stephanie Rogers the best client he had ever taken on, without exception.
When it came to fields she didn't understand, she maintained a basic sense of awe and respect. Take Lance's own profession. Since Stephanie didn't understand it, she was perfectly willing to follow the lawyer's lead entirely.
What pleased Lance the most was that she never made bizarre requests like, "I want to dye this thing green."
In short, Lance unconditionally supported Stephanie Rogers being Captain America.
To be fair, she really did have charm.
Charming, kind, and respectful toward a lawyer, Stephanie Rogers shyly brought up her own request to Lance the very next day.
"You mean you want me to accompany you on a tour of New York? Me?"
Lance could hardly believe it. He pointed at himself, asking in disbelief.
Stephanie, having already spoken, looked even more embarrassed. She scratched her blond hair and said, "Sorry, am I bothering you? It's a bit abrupt, I know. Lately, I've been trying to adapt to modern society. Nick suggested I find someone familiar with New York to accompany me. I thought about asking S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but they all have their own missions, so I thought of you."
"Sorry. If it's inconvenient, you don't have to force yourself. I can go alone…"
Stephanie added considerately.
"I'm touched by your trust and your recognition of my character," Lance said, "but first, I need to confirm one thing."
He looked at Stephanie seriously.
"Is there compensation for accompanying a client on a sightseeing trip?"
Stephanie froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"How interesting," she said. "Even though you and Nick haven't met, he understands you quite well. He suggested that if you refused, I could offer to increase your compensation. You're exactly as he described."
"Knowing that a man understands me that well is actually quite unsettling," Lance said bluntly, curling his lip.
He stood up and looked at her. "So, when do we leave?"
Stephanie paused for a moment, then said happily, "Now."
The weather in New York was far better than in Gotham. It was mid-afternoon, and broad swathes of sunlight spilled across the streets, giving Lance a fleeting illusion of peace.
Stephanie was genuinely trying to experience modern society. She enthusiastically bought a hot dog and even dragged Lance onto a bus.
A bus.
Ever since Lance had earned his first respectable legal fee, he had stopped using them.
It wasn't that he looked down on buses. He simply didn't consider them safe.
He didn't work in a clean profession. If he seriously listed his enemies, the list would be long enough to circle Hell's Kitchen three times.
Choosing such a confined mode of transportation would only increase his chances of meeting God or Satan ahead of schedule.
But riding a bus with Captain America was a different matter.
Setting aside the fact that he now possessed Batman's mastery of combat, simply having Stephanie Rogers by his side was enough to ensure his personal safety.
More importantly, he didn't have any enemies or rivals in New York yet.
So for now, being a decent person still mattered.
While Lance was lost in idle thoughts, they arrived at their destination.
The journey had been uneventful. No robberies, no shootings, not even a pickpocket.
Lance glanced at Stephanie with a newfound appreciation.
"What is it?" Stephanie turned her head.
"Nothing. I was just thinking that sometimes, having good character really does make a difference."
Lance spoke vaguely, then stood beside her, looking up at the building in front of them.
"The Museum of the City of New York? You're serious?" he asked.
He hadn't expected Stephanie's first choice for understanding modern life and New York to be a museum.
"If you really want to understand history and everything that happened while you were gone, there are plenty of people around you who could explain it. Why go the long way and come here?"
"I understand what you mean," Stephanie said with a wry smile. "If I wanted to, countless people would line up to tell me everything I want to know. But those are things learned from others. For some things, hearing about them secondhand isn't as good as seeing them for yourself."
"At least these objects are just there. They don't have subjective emotions, and they don't lie."
"Another philosopher." Lance shrugged and stepped through the doors of the Museum of the City of New York first. "Let's go."
Stephanie smiled and followed him inside.
History museums carry a distinct atmosphere.
The moment you step into the exhibition hall, you are enveloped by a heavy silence that belongs to time itself.
Lance glanced around and quickly lost interest.
In this Marvel universe, the world was secretly shaped by god-like beings and people like the Kamar-Taj sorcerers fighting in the dark, yet no one would know about them. Yet the public would never know any of it. That was why the history displayed in this museum felt so... superfluous.
In contrast, Stephanie stood before the galleries of the years she had missed, allowing herself to sink into endless thought.
Lance walked up beside her. He was surprised to find that she wasn't looking at the 1945 issue of The New York Times on display, nor had she gone to the World War II Heroes Memorial Hall to reminisce about her comrades, nor was she paying attention to the entire wall of memorabilia dedicated to Captain America.
Instead, she had stopped in front of the most inconspicuous display case.
It held a letter from World War II that a soldier's family had never sent.
Alongside the dense lines filled with longing were the soldier's birth certificate, graduation photo, and wedding portrait.
Resting on top of them was the soldier's discharge medal.
Stephanie gazed at everything in silence for a long time.
It wasn't until Lance stepped beside her that she finally looked up.
Lance saw that those sea-blue eyes were filled with complicated emotions.
There was something in them that could make anyone drown.
"Look here," Stephanie said softly. "What do you see?"
Without waiting for an answer, she continued.
"It turns out that while I was asleep… countless ordinary people lived their lives well."
Lance followed her gaze. The display label read:
"James T. Miller, 1921–2010. Soldier of the 101st Airborne Division. Participated in the Normandy landings. Returned home after the war, married, and had two sons and a daughter."
A black-and-white family photo lay beneath the glass.
In the picture, the white-haired veteran held his wife, surrounded by their children, with grandchildren leaning against his knees.
Everyone was smiling.
Stephanie turned to Lance, her eyes faintly reddened.
"It's wonderful, isn't it?"
Lance didn't speak.
It was rare for him, but he genuinely didn't know how to respond.
Stephanie didn't need an answer.
She walked past Cold War fallout shelter diagrams, past the Apollo moon landing models, past the evolution of the personal computer, and past early smartphone prototypes.
She lingered at each display case for a long time, yet said nothing more, only watching in silence.
Finally, she stopped at an interactive screen at the end of the hall.
The display showed a real-time world map, highlighting ongoing events.
A volcano erupted somewhere. An election concluded in another country. A research team discovered a new species.
Stephanie reached out, her fingertips hovering over the screen.
She hesitated for a moment, then gently tapped on a news item.
"A veterans' organization has established a temporary hospital on the Syrian border, having already aided over a thousand refugees."
In the accompanying photo, several white-haired elderly men were setting up tents. One of them wore a hat bearing the insignia of the 101st Airborne Division.
Stephanie stared at the image for a long time.
Then she smiled a beautiful smile.
___
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