"I can't leave whatever it is out in the hall," Winter says, voice unnaturally flat again. "Someone else might pick it up. Watch me," he orders, warily approaching the items scattered around the floor and crouching to poke at them carefully. It's an awkward crouch, as if his joints don't quite work right. The star on his left arm is the wrong shape, Steve can see from that angle, but it's hard to tell exactly what's wrong with it. "If I start changing again and don't notice. Tell me."