James made his way across the field, his heavy boots making a soft 'thump' each time the hit the grass. He had just reached the unloading area when someone approached him. It was a girl, probably around her late teens. She stopped in front of him, looked up at his face, and seemed a bit confused. James wasn't exactly a stranger to the look; a lot of people didn't recognize him out of costume, and just assume that he walked around with a hood sporting a big 'A' because he was a fan. Hell, even IN costume people weren't so quick to warm up to him. The original stars and stripes had been a little...bright for James's taste. And besides, it was Steve's. He'd had the costume redesigned, a bit less loud. 

"Yeah, it's me," He said, rubbing the back of his neck. What exactly was he supposed to say? Rogers probably would have greeted her with that big, stupid grin, given her some spiel about how great the camp was and how he looked forward to teaching her, and then proceed to sign any and everything thrusted at him. James was different. He'd once been great with people, a lady's man, a people's person, the life of the party. Now, every time someone approached him, his first instinct was to look them over for any bombs hidden on their person.

"The girls' dorm is that way," He said, motioning his hand off to the right. "If you need any help signing in, registration's over there." He pointed to the mess hall behind them. He didn't seem all too interested in talking to fans.