[ The filing cabinets of compartmentalization are teetering in his brain, threatening to spill out all those neatly stored-away pieces of information he's been so willfully ignoring. Six months is bad. Really bad.

And here's a fun thing about Steve: he's prone to yelling in these situations, so the more he says the louder he gets. ]

It sounds crazy because it's crazy! This is crazy! [ he hasn't managed to unglue his hands from his head just yet. ] Who knows, maybe we're all crazy! I mean you don't just wake up on a damn cruise ship and— and— and I don't know! Let some girl from the future sew up your, what, mutant bat bites?

[ maybe he's been crazy all along! his hands slide down from his hair to his face and stay there, muffling his voice as he goes on with: ]

Goddammit. I have to wake up.

[ because, okay, that's what it has to be, right? he's hallucinating or he passed out from blood loss or something and this is all a dream. ]