Hearing two people talking and getting nearer to the mess tent, Steve sat up straight on the bench and waited. He expected some sort of comment on his appearance, it was only natural for someone, anyone, in the army to have some sort of concern with the scrawny kid at the base. He tried not to roll his eyes as the two talked about him as though he wasn't sitting right there. He may not have the best hearing abilities from one too many ear infections, but the message was loud and clear.<br/><br/>Steve watched the man approach, feeling his eyes over his body as he was scrutinized. Refraining from rolling his eyes, Steve waited for the man to finish his initial judgement. He watched the man, Slade Wilson, sit down and ask him about himself.<br/><br/>"Didn't you read my file?" Steve asked. He was sure someone must have shown Mr. Wilson his file if he was to be his trainer for this project. "Name's Steven Grant Rogers, lived in Brooklyn all my life with my ma until she passed away. Not anything too spectacular to tell you to be honest Mr. Wilson." Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. Wasn't he making himself sound like the best candidate. He had already been chosen so it wasn't as though he had to impress anyone, but it still fell as though he should make himself sound better than he actually was. Heck, he had already done so on his first couple dozen attempts at enlisting.<br/><br/>"Sir, I'm ready to do everything you throw at me! I may not seem like much, but I can sure as hell work hard."