driftfleet | ( video )

Who: Peggy Carter and YOU.
Broadcast: Fleet-wide, from inside the Marsiva.
Action: Y, for any other newcomers between now and the Shuffle.
When: This Week.

[ let us not dwell too long upon the awkward silences and humiliating nascent moments of agent carter's awakening. let it only be said that she woke with a start (despite the afforded comfort) and the broadcast didn't quite zoom in close enough to adequately witness the depth of her horror when she first raised a tentative hand to her forehead only to find an empty glass vial still sitting there. steve's blood had been poured away: returned to his native lands by way of the east river. both guilty and triumphant, she pockets the vial in her blazer and tells herself it's a problem for another time. after all--- ]

Bollocks. [ mistaking herself for a person alone, she swears. loudly and colourfully as she crosses the bay and knocks her knuckles against the too-intact viewing window separating herself from the rest of creation -- and no familiar blue-and-green marble in sight. peggy swears again: bollocks, damnit, and hell. unable to peer into the void for much longer, she turns her back on oblivion and is confronted once more with the too-sterile hospitality deck. she may be a tidy and precise sort of woman, but this much tidiness and precision makes her stomach turn. where is the stink of new york? the heat? the mess? the humanity?

feeling charged with purpose, she springs into (moderate) action. feeling alarmingly comfortable with technology she swears she's never seen before, she plays her fingers across a panel she doesn't know will connect her to the rest of a whol damned fleet -- but she's left with the burning certainty that it'll connect her with someone. imperiously: ]

I would speak with the individual -- or individuals -- in charge of this operation. Believe me when I stress there is a whole bloody cavalcade of laws, both domestic and international, you're breaking by holding me here. I demand to...

[ some of the fire floods from her belly. a little desperate, she changes tactics: ] Is anyone there? Hello?

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[ her answer is patient. almost affectionate -- but that affection is an afterburner. an old image, based on a man she once knew. ]

I suppose you wouldn't have to. There's almost a kind of relief, I suspect, in seeing the other half of possibility. He's here, so you needn't waste your time wondering like I am.

I--

[ For a moment, he's lost for an answer. Having that fact thrown in his face on more than one occasion is still a punch to the chest. It's a gnawing, bleeding ache- no one should have to be compared to him.

Especially Jim. It does hurt, too. To think that in another time and place he's a better person. Someone with inherent goodness like that shouldn't have the burden of sharing the same face with something like him. ]

..Yeah. [ Quietly. ]

[ by no means is it an inherently easier state -- nor better nor sweeter nor anything else. but at least the mystery is stripped from the equation. he needn't wonder, because he knows.

and perhaps that knowledge is more harming than the lack of it. or perhaps it isn't. it's not her place to say -- or even to guess. ]

Space almost pales in comparison.

The quiet is still nice..

[ Maybe he's just fond of the way the stars are a mental escape- they're so far away, but there's a certain feeling of awe. To be so completely surrounded by something so almost flawless in appearance..

Somehow, it makes the static in his brain a little more tolerable. ]

[ the quiet reminds her of bastogne. or rather -- it reminds her of stories from bastogne, of the hollow echoing quiet between the trees. like you could hear the very snowflakes chattering to one another if only they had something worth saying. the stars, she decides, are something like that.

but she keeps those thoughts to herself. ]

Does the fleet offer you much quiet, Mister Winter?

Sometimes.. But when it's not, the noise isn't so bad.

[ There isn't anyone on the Heron that he has a problem with, so it's nice. Of course, even if he did have a problem with someone, it would be fine. ]

Whatever it's like, it's a damned far cry from Manhattan. [ ... ] Or Brooklyn, for that matter.

[ a soft testing of the ground -- trying to get a feel for the man's absent memories. ]

I wouldn't know-- or.. I can't recall that, if I did.

[ He's listened to Jim talk about Brooklyn, though there's none of it that he can draw on. That door is very firmly sealed shut.

He does want to remember, though.. ]

..Is that where you're from, too?

Heavens, no. Not natively at least. [ a tense pause. ] One might say I'm more like an adopted resident. I grew up in London.

[ how strange it is to be explaining this details. but they're simple ones -- and they come to her tongue with more ease than the difficult subjects still to tackle. ]

Did you prefer Manhattan, then-- over London? Why would you chose some place different from your home?

[ He waits for an answer with open curiosity. If given the choice, he's not sure what he would choose, either. ]

Oh, goodness. [ she answers in brief -- almost as though the question comes unexpectedly. ] I suppose I chose it all because of a...a friend. A comrade. Somehow, his fondness for the city must have rubbed off on me.

As long as you like it better.

[ At the moment, Winter is positive he'd rather not leave this place despite being stuck. He has mixed feelings about everyone- Peggy in particular, but he still wants to know more about her. That feeling hasn't gone away, nagging at him through the fog.

He shakes it off, looking back at her. ]

Tell me something else about you.

About me? Bloody hell. [ puffed cheeks. an embarrassed pause. she evidently doesn't do well with the spotlight on herself. ] I'm partial to a good G-and-T and I don't take sugar in my cuppa.

[ ...but he must want more than that. she must give him something else: ] I saw action during the war. But then again, there aren't many of us who didn't in one way or another.

[ He seems satisfied with her answer, nodding his head a fraction. He didn't peg her as a civilian, anyway. The way she holds herself and how guarded she is pretty much screamed it.

Also the fact that she seemed to know him at some point helped tremendously- even if he couldn't manifest anything. In the event she were somehow lying, it was better than what he had now.

Echoes of something that his fingers passed through like mist. ]

War touches everyone. Doesn't matter if you were involved directly or not.

Astute. Accurate. [ ... ] But for me, the involvement was direct. At least direct enough to know how fine a shot you are.

[ once were. ]

I assume you're as well-aimed as ever, Mister Winter.

I would have been disposed of or re-educated had I not performed favorably.

[ Grim, but accurate. If his skill faltered, it was shaken off as a malfunction and the problem was solved. ]

I have been out of practice here.. My weapons were confiscated.

[ re-educated. the word makes her shiver. she tries to suppress it; she doesn't want it to show. ]

As would mine have been, had I been carrying. [ ... ] Is there no provision for acquiring something new now that you're here? Do they keep us unarmed?

The Captain has one that he keeps on him..

[ One that he's been offered while he keeps watch, but always turns down. It's a test and he knows it. ]

The others aren't right. [ Not a natural firearm; not by a long shot. ]

[ curiousity hijacks her train of thought: ] Aren't right? Why -- what's wrong with them?

[ a gun is a gun, isn't it? ]

You handle weapons for so long you can tell when what you're holding isn't right.

[ They don't handle the way a normal firearm does, it takes some getting used to. Of course, that could be his particularity coming into play. ]

[ she's bewildered. but then again, she hasn't yet had the opportunity to "handle" these different arms -- and might yet find herself in agreement with him should it ever come to that. for now, though, she crinkles her nose. ]

What's different?

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