It's an out of the way part of the city, which means no one should be here, especially during a sandstorm like this. Most people in their right minds have taken shelter, but Steve knows there are some who don't have that option.

Thankfully, the city government has agreed to open an old theater and erect some temporary tents for anyone who doesn't have a reliable roof over their heads, but that still entails making sure they know about these options and can get there on foot when the winds are almost strong enough to blow someone away.

So, Steve is out here looking for anyone who falls into that description so that he can escort them to safety. He isn't expecting to run into—

Well, it takes him a minute to figure out what he's looking at. Garrus' height helps him put it together fairly quickly, but still, he's so bundled up (both of them are, in fact) that there's a moment where his brain short-circuits. It takes a few more seconds to realize that Garrus is essentially exposing his midriff... which, maybe this is a normal turian thing?

It's a hell of a thing to stumble upon, though.

"... Garrus?" The winds are so violent Steve can barely hear himself, and most of his face is currently covered with goggles and a scarf, protecting his eyes and mouth. He tries again, louder. "You all right?"