( video + action )

[mucked]

Who: Peggy Carter and YOU
Broadcast: Video; fleetwide.
Action: Starstruck
When: 27th; evening.

Anyone fancy a flutter? [ a brief, honeyed smile. ] We haven't got horses to bet upon, so I suppose dice and cards shall have to do. And if we can see fit to justify a Christmas Day, I imagine we can also decide upon a New Year's Eve.

[ she looks squarely into the network's broadcast. firm, electronic eye contact with any and all watching. ]

Four days from now on the Iskaulit. Come with credits -- or whatever else you deem valuable enough to wager -- and help us fleece poor Jim Barnes of his hard-earned wages.

[ afterwards, she can be found fiddling with the comms panels on the starstruck. she isn't particularly certain of what she's doing, but it's better than being idle. and she might as well try and put her bloody awful augment to work. over the next two hours, some ships may experience odd and incomplete burst messages as she tests frequencies, filters, and broadcast capabilities. ]

Comments

[theroadwarrior]

[He nods.]

Was a matter of time. All we do is fight; all just depends on who we're fighting.

[But look at you, Peggy. Getting him to talk so much. Good job.]

[mucked]

-- Doesn't sound all that different from 1946, if you ask me. [ which he didn't. still. ] Even after the treaties are signed, war never seems to end. It perseveres under one guise or another.

[theroadwarrior]

[Mmm. He agrees with that notion well enough. One guise or another.]

The only thing anyone can do is hope the right side wins. Or fight with them. [He thinks that's what Furiosa did. It was a war alright — a small one, but a war nonetheless. Max is glad that something good came of it. But he seems to realize he's gone on for a while now, and he clears his throat, glancing away toward the exit.] This place could just be another version of that.

[mucked]

Oh, I fully believe it is. I don't trust this place for a hot second. [ she exhales. ] Not that it doesn't come with its own bizarre charms.

[ bucky. captain america. stark's son. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He nods, giving a glance to the empty tea and the missing food as he begins to make his way out on a slightly wobbling walk — usual Max, not saying hello or goodbye.]

Mm. Like not starving.

[Goodbye, communications lady.]