The distinct screech of rubber skittering along linoleum is incredibly jarring after the smothering sound of silence he's become so accustomed to in the fog. Thankfully, Steve's not one to spook easily. Setting down the wacky box of sugar cereal where it came from, he leans back from the shelf to catch a glimpse of whomever finally answered him. Perhaps a clerk who had been stuck in the back this whole time?

"Actually, I was more interested in seeing if anyone responded," he admits with a casual ease that he doesn't totally feel. His Mach 2 is nothing but a crushed tin can on a New york City street corner, and he has no firearm on his person. Added with the fact that his body is still aching from his last encounter with the Hulk and, well, Steve isn't feeling particularly confident he'd win in a fight with this guy (though between the two of them, this guy looks more terrified than him).

"You work here, mister?" Steve asks calmly and respectfully. Judging by the fact that all he can see of the man is his head only a foot off the tile floor would suggest that, no, he does not.