Steve watched Slade, waiting for some sort of reaction to his idea. He knew it probably wasn’t the best, especially when compared to what others who were already well trained in this sort of thing could provide. It was to his shock and surprise when he got a ‘good work’ instead.<br/><br/>“Thank you sir. I’ve always been one for details.” He admitted. Being an artist had helped develop this way of thinking, and clearly it had paid off. Before they could go any further with this idea, or any others Slade thought to throw at him, a commotion from outside had them pausing. Steve remained by the map as Slade went to investigate.<br/><br/>This sudden interruption was enough to bring an end to today’s training, something Steve was both grateful for, as well as saddened. He had just begun to prove that despite what he lacked physically he could make up for in other ways. Steve heard a cheer go up from the soldiers whom Slade had addressed and moved to the entrance of the tent. Letting the flaps fall shut behind him, Steve watched as some disappeared into tents, or were moved to the infirmary, and still others had begun cracking open bottles and downing the contents.<br/><br/>He knew he shouldn’t partake in this, needing to keep his wits about him for the following day, as well as for anything Slade may throw his way in the meantime. A second reason, Steve wasn’t exactly good at holding his alcohol. The number of times Bucky had taken him out drinking with his friends, or while being set up on a double date of sorts, Steve had always stopped at one or two drinks, at least after the few times he had gotten drunk and made a fool of himself. He was a lightweight and he knew it, no need to act a fool in front of all these soldiers.