Steve stood as straight as physically possible. He was nervous. His sharp mind was nearly fully invested in the effort to keep the tremor he felt inside away from his fingers, but to no avail. The unruly digits were making his suitcase shake uncontrollably. He didn't want this. He wanted to be brave and strong like his mother and father had been, but the tears welling up in his bright blue eyes made him doubt his ability to achieve that lofty goal. He squeezed his suitcase tighter as a dark blue Chevy Lumina pulled up to the curb by the front steps of his old apartment building. He fought the urge to run back up the stairs and curl up in an empty room that was once his parents', but the owner had taken the key after Steve collected the few changes of clothes and sketchbooks that he could call his own. They had moved around a lot. He returned his attention to the lumina. A young man, possibly two or three years older than himself, stood at the back of the vehicle, fiddling with the contents of the trunk. "You're Steve Rogers, yeah?" Steve nodded, followed quickly by a terse yes sir. The boy smirked and took Steve's suitcase without asking. "Is this all you have kid, and call me Phil." Steve shrugged, but quickly felt guilty for what he felt was disrespect and stared forlornly at his feet. That was no way to treat one of the people taking you in. Phil smiled, a genuine smile that Steve couldn't help but feel comfortable with. "Hop in, and welcome to the family."