( video )

[mucked]

Who: Peggy Carter + OPEN
Broadcast: video
Action: s.s. starstruck
When: mid-morning

[ ah, tea. however-bloody-many leagues into deep space and there's still provision for tea. nearly two months on, and she can at least depend upon leaves steeped in hot water as some sort of intergalactic lingua franca. cheers the soul, really. it isn't perfectly like her preferred cuppa on earth, but it suffices. and so this morning finds her sitting within arm's reach of the starstruck's comms, while her fingers wrap around a mug of that precious brew. ]

-- The battle that happened before we came across the planet. Is that a common occurrence? Bouts of cackhanded shooting, followed by the fortuitous retreat of our opponents. [ to be fair, she doesn't really know if it was all bad shooting. she's no expert in space-warfare. everything looks a little cackhanded when there's no ground to anchor your view. and let's not begin to count all the things she doesn't know about nebulas. more importantly: ] How often does the fleet come under enemy fire? Can they even be called proper enemies? Can anyone explain why were being shot at?

[ she's still new here, and she craves answers. but even she can hear that grinding note of too much tension in her voice. she knows it's time ease off the throttle. peggy takes a long (savoured) sip of tea and regains a measure of her own composure. ] Heavens, but it'd be nice if these godawful food pastes could be slapped together in a combination that even slightly resembled a Garibaldi. Tea isn't tea without a biscuit.

Comments

[mucked]

[ she isn't long in arriving -- a minute after him, perhaps, and with the sound of pumps clacking against the floor as an early warning of her appearance. as suggested by her appearance upon the comm devices earlier, she's dressed in one of the ship's plain jumpsuits. peggy's hair hasn't been curled today, but it is pinned back with an elegant sweep. space living, it seems, comes with certain sacrifices.

upon entering the cargo bay, she sticks her hands into the jumpsuit's pockets. and -- after a moment -- she conjures a polite smile. it doesn't quite reach her eyes, although she's quite convinced her safety isn't at risk by asking him here. jim has put her worries to bed on that particular sticking point. ]

I'll never come to terms with it, I don't think. Hopping bloody space ships as easily as one visits the flat next door.

[reconstitution]

[ The sound of her heels will always give her away- she has a very distinct gait. Purposeful, trying to prove her power, more than capable. Regardless, it makes him stand at attention until she is in the cargo bay.

He offers her a curt nod when he's greeted, stepping forward, but not too far into her space. Winter's space is important to him, and he wants to do the same for her. Besides, he gets the feeling in his gut that she'd cuff him behind the ear if given half the chance in the right situation. ]

It takes adjustments. This place is... [ Freeing. Oppressive. Slightly terrifying. Wonderful. ]

Different.

[mucked]

[ she smiles -- because it's polite to smile, and because he's him somehow. somewhere, beneath all that hair and metal. he's him, and she owes him a smile or three. ]

I miss mud. Isn't that daft? Mud, of all things. Didn't see much mud in Manhattan and I didn't miss it then. But I miss it now.

[reconstitution]

[ He may not be the one she hopes, but somewhere underneath all the programming and distrust, that man is there. Hidden and dusty, but there's potential. He shakes his head, keeping his position. ]

You miss the battlefield. [ He misses it, too. ]

[mucked]

I think miss might be too strong a word -- [ why is it a simpler thing to be honest with him? is it because of who he is, or because of who he isn't? ] It's not quite nostalgia. Merely...

[ her jaw works, soundless. she can't quite name the feeling, and so she falls back upon hospitality. ] Come on. Let's retire to the galley together. These cargo holds are so uninviting.

[reconstitution]

I understand. [ She really doesn't need to finish the thought. Thankfully, she moves on. He offers her a nod instructing her to lead the way, falling into place to her left and slightly behind.

She outranks you, so you walk on her left side if you go anywhere with her. Acknowledged? ]

[mucked]

[ -- his decorum does not go unnoticed. peggy spares him a glance over her shoulder, and there's a strange comfort in seeing respect given where it was once due. no one else quite knows this dance like they do: her, and jim. and she rightfully surmises jim must have told the winter soldier how to behave.

she feels a little safer. enough to chatter gaily as they make their way to the kitchen: ] Have you been to the Starstruck before, Mister Winter?

[reconstitution]

[ He's relieved that Jim instructed him how to act around her- he would have had no idea. Missing is perhaps the playful smirk or the proud jut of his chin to checking his place behind her. He wouldn't know. ]

No, Agent Carter.

[ He parrots how to address her after she'd stayed how she likes it, sweeping the halls with his eyes as they walk. Exit checks, analyzing any passenger they happen to cross paths with. It is unfamiliar territory and still needs to be aware of his exits and potential threats. ]

[mucked]

[ although it's not a warm mode of address, their finicky and formal 'misters' and 'agents' suffice to keep them on stable footing with one another. there is no guess-work, and the way in which he defers to her gives her that narrow notion of control. unfair, perhaps, but necessary for the time being. ]

Welcome, then. It's not such a bad little ship, all told. The kitchen does tea. [ ... ] So I suppose I can't complain.