Abandoning her seat in the cafe, Kit couldn't believe her luck. First, Tony Stark, then Bruce Banner, but Captain America was walking in the flesh right outside. Perhaps he wasn't as easily recognisable without the star-spangled spandex, but it was easy to pick him out from a crowd. His body build was abnormally large compared to the others walking around him, definitely looking the part of a superhero trying to fit in.

She could already feel it, the feverish rush that was coursing through her body, telling her to pick him as her next target. Many would have considered her mad to go after a third person in such a short time frame, but Kit was definitely feeling lucky. And while he bore the look of a superhero, the confused expression as he glanced at the buildings around him said otherwise.

To her amusement, he resembled a lost puppy, on the verge of crying out for help if someone didn't assist him shortly. The bewildered expression never seemed to leave his face and before she started to feel bad, she decided to act on her prey. So what did a superhero carry on their person besides a watch and a pizza coupon? She had no interests in gadgets really unless she could sell it, but perhaps another unique piece couldn't hurt. Every so often, the Alley Cat sometimes had a thing for bright and shiny objects.

Heading outside, Kit knew how to position herself to begin the interaction and thankfully, he looked distracted enough with whatever he was looking over in the window of a building. With a newspaper in hand, she quickly lifted it up after planting herself oddly close without him noticing. And when he finally turned to leave, he ended up crashing right into her. However, Kit hadn't anticipated the amount of strength that was coming her way as he took to easily knocking her down to the ground.

To try and soften the blow of the fall, Kit stuck her hands out to catch herself, only to scrape her palms against the pavement. Swearing under her breath, she could already feel the stinging sensation as she heard him gasp at the realisation of what he had done.

"Ma'am?" A strong voice rang out. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I didn't see you standing there."

Ma'am, she repeated in her head, well that's certainly different. But it's better than what half of the construction workers call out to me these days.

Shrugging it off, Kit was about to tell him that she was fine, but instead, found a hand in her face, waiting to help her up. She gladly took it and in just a split second was hoisted to her feet as if she was made of air. The speed of his help left her slightly dizzy as she had to blink several times as she steadied herself on her feet. And if that wasn't enough, he had yet to stop apologising as if he had really ended up hurting her.

"No, it's my fault really," Kit told him, " I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"Well, that makes the two of us then," he countered until he noticed her hands, " you're bleeding."

Before Kit could react, her wrists were grabbed by the one and only Steve Rogers and her palms were forced to face upwards to reveal the scrapes she had received earlier. She tried to point out that it wasn't that bad, nothing a little rubbing alcohol couldn't fix up in little time. However, that seemed to make things worse as he insisted that peroxide would probably be gentler on her skin and less painful.

He was putting too much focus on her, leaving her distraction technique to slowly fail if she couldn't manage to turn it around. Suddenly, she fixated on a spot of his jacket and let out small gasp of her own.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I think I managed to get some blood on your jacket. Must have been when you were helping me up."

Steve didn't even have a chance to glance down before she had pulled a small napkin from her pocket and began dabbing at the non-existent stain. She mustered up the most panic-filled voice she could pull off at the time, all the while shaking her head.

"I'm really, really sorry!"

"It's not a big deal," Steve attempted to calm her down, " it's probably not even blood."

Kit dropped her hand down to her side quickly, pocketing what she had managed to grab. "Then what would it be?"

"Probably pizza sauce," he answered, " I just finished an early dinner and decided to go for a walk afterwards. I was trying to be as neat as possible but you know pizza, it can be messy."

"Don't I know, I had pizza yesterday," Kit said," looked like a bloody massacre down the front of my shirt after I spilt some cheese and sauce. But I guess that's it's a good thing that it would be sauce and not blood. But you still might want to get it into the wash as soon as possible."

"I'm fine, my main concern is if you are?"

Where were men like Steve Rogers during some days where she needed someone to ask if she was alright? It was definitely appreciated but not when she was trying to make a quick getaway after taking whatever he had on him at the time. She kept trying to politely brush him off and part ways, but he was all too concern that he had really hurt her. She had done worse to herself as a kid on the playground, however, if she brushed him off too quickly, there was a chance he would become suspicious.

"Really, I'm perfectly fine," she offered a grin, " I'll just go and rub some hand sanitizer into these and I'll be as good as new."

"I'm telling you, the peroxide will sting less."

"I'll take your word for it," Kit said, " well, I should get going, I'm meeting up with a friend here shortly. Once again, sorry about getting in your way."

Steve could have spent the rest of the day into the night arguing how it was his fault, but Kit broke him a deal, leading them to accept the blame in a fifty-fifty style. He seemed to be okay with that, wishing her a good day before Kit headed off in the opposite direction.

A heavy sigh of relief escaped her as soon as she was out of sight. She thought it was going to be just a quick bump-n-go as she liked to call it but he had offered a bit more of a challenge. He had what a lot of New Yorkers tended to lack: manners. That had made the interaction last a lot longer than Kit had anticipated. It was all about speed as she had learnt very early on, the longer one remained with who they were taking from, the easier it was for them to catch onto something happening.

Thankfully, she had managed to pull it off, but Kit knew that she couldn't just let her guard down, even if she was feeling confident. Sometimes her ego got the best of her, making her believe that she had been doing it for so long that she didn't have to be careful, but that was all the more reason to be careful. She couldn't afford slip-ups, she wasn't a kid anymore, she was an adult and the consequences were never soft for those that couldn't blame it on innocence and ignorance.

Pulling out her stolen goods from her pocket, Kit wanted to see what she had taken from the Lost Puppy also known as Captain America.

The truth? Not much.

Between Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers, they were nothing compared to what she had managed to make off of Tony Stark, leaving her slightly disappointed. Small prizes were fun sometimes, but what the hell was she supposed to do with a bunch of hand-written notes? She could hardly read the majority of them, which had been a waste of her talents dipping into his pockets without him noticing.

She became pissed off rather quickly, not at Steve, it wasn't like he knew better to carry more valuables on him to be stolen. But rather, she was angry with herself for only going after him for a name, when in reality, he had been wearing clothes no better than hers, did she really expect to find anything good on him? It had been sloppy of her, she knew better when it came to reading people.

To clear the air of disappointment, Kit looked around, ready to find someone else to make up for her failure. And she lifted her head, just in time for a man with a crisp suit to go walking past her.

"Well, hello there, Mr Wall Street."

When Steve returned to the tower before dark, he found the others pretty much where he had left them after they had all shared in the pizza. However, he hardly paid them any mind as he was still rummaging through the pockets of his jacket while mumbling to himself. He was starting to feel like Tony from earlier.

Bruce seemed to be the only one who noticed initially, while Natasha was busy with a call and Tony was busy explaining to Clint why cutting all the wires to his Playstation was not the way to handle things just because they were tangled.

"What's wrong?" Bruce called out him. "You look lost."

"Well, I just went out for a short walk, not too far from here and I had all of my notes in my pockets before I left...now they're gone. I've never had anything fall out of these pockets before, they're fairly deep."

Bruce was about to tell him that it was plausible that something would eventually fall from Steve's pockets, no matter how deep they were, but before he could say anything, Steve snapped his fingers as he remembered something.

"It must have happened when I knocked into that woman earlier. I was walking down the sidewalk and she appeared just out of nowhere. I ended up knocking her down and she ended up hurting herself."

"Smooth," Tony snorted as he butted in, " is that how you pick up women now?"

"It was an accident," Steve rolled his eyes, " she was really nice about it too. But I still feel bad about it..wish I hadn't lost those notes though."

"What notes?" Tony asked him. "Why did you have notes in your pocket to begin with?"

"They're for me, I take notes when I'm walking around the city, is that a problem?"

Tony said nothing, but he didn't have to as he laughed again before picking himself up to leave the room. Steve called after him, yelling that it wasn't funny but Tony begged to differ as he yelled back. Suddenly, the two were calling back and forth to each other, leaving Natasha to make a face before she left the area. Only Clint and Bruce were left as witnesses to the argument, but Clint had other plans so he didn't have to deal with the nonsense.

"Time to turn these things off," he said, reaching for the purple hearing aids that rested in his ear. "Every time I come here, someone starts arguing. I don't why you all can't resolve your problems in a better way."

"Oh, this is coming from the man that cut all the wires to his Playstation because he was too lazy to untangle them," Tony said as he returned to the room. "What's your solution to our problems?"

"Well, you lost your watch, Tony, so buy a new one, you have the money to do so," Clint said before turning to Steve, " you lost your notes so...take more notes?"

He turned to Bruce. "Do you have a problem that needs solving too?"

"Well, not really, I'm just still bitter about my pizza coupon," Bruce answered.

"We just ordered about four pizzas altogether for all of us, I ate one by myself, you know how fast it goes around here. It wouldn't have done us much good to begin with. There, problems solved. You are very welcome."

"Not really," Steve mumbled under his breath as Clint excused himself to use the bathroom and for the first time in a while, Tony could actually come to agree with Steve on something.

"Legolas is a horrible problem solver."