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fleetwide video + action »

Who: a newly canon-updated peggy carter and YOU.
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: ss starstruck for crewmate and any visitors.
When: beginning today, but feel free to forward date something if you like.
VIDEO (FLEETWIDE)

[ stern-faced, peggy appears upon the network. ] Does 'zero matter' mean anything to anyone? Pointed, I know, and a bit a long shot...but -- if there's anywhere I might find some resource or knowledge about such matters, then the fleet is my best hope. Otherworldly mysteries are not well within my wheelhouse.

[ there are other questions she could ask -- but no, zero matter might be the safest inquiry out of a great many others. and even then, it's barely safe at all. but it must be asked, for now she feels most preoccupied with the work conducted back home. the fleet is almost a secondary thought -- a distant, archaic priority. ]

Alternatively -- [ she sighs. until now, she hasn't been agent cater within the fleet, much preferring to be the more social and civilian version of herself. ] -- I wouldn't mind hearing a bit more about worlds. Different worlds, universes, what have you. I know none have been successful in creating a rift between this place and any other but -- surely, such rifts must exist elsewhere.

ACTION (STARSTRUCK)

[ long story short: peggy carter took a nasty spill inside one of the sr shuttles, and is now back on her feet after being out cold for nearly a day. on the surface, it seems like nothing's the matter. not seriously so, at least. but as she goes about her ship duties, there's a glassy-eyed quality to her gaze. it takes her a little too long to remember someone's name -- as though she's reaching back by weeks or maybe months to recall details she'd been living every day.

find her in the kitchen, where she's preparing one of her two or three or sometimes four daily cups of tea. or find her in the cargo bay where she's trying to use the recreational equipment. she quickly gives up on the punching bag because although she no longer has stitches holding her guts together, there persists a tight ache in the flesh. she settles for the treadmill.

wherever else she might be encountered, her crankiness is persistent. ordinarily patient with her crew, peggy's kindness has been thinning out all week. she appears tightly wound and disengaged. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[And so quickly, he snaps back to focus, raising his eyebrow.]

Mm. Self-proclaimed genius with the mustache.

[ aha. that eases her into something like a smile. an honest one -- paradoxically sourced in a strange genuine affection for the man. ] Yes, well. Howard Stark is a genius. He just also happens to be an incredible wanker at the same time.

[ she twirls a finger in the air (perhaps to suggest something about the ship itself). ] Our engineer? Tony? Similarly bad taste in facial hair? Yes -- that would be Howard's son, oddly enough.

Geniuses are idiots.

[mad shade being thrown]

... Actually, was the other one. Howard.

[Such a truly thoughtful, considering pause.]

Should've known they were related.

It's uncanny. But -- [ she exhales. ] Howard hasn't been bothering you, has he?

[ vague volumes of protectiveness. of almost possessiveness, when it comes to her assets. her allies. howard can be something of a handful. he isn't known for his discretion, and she could see (immediately) how a man like him would vex a man like max. ]

[He waves a hand.]

No. Tried to be helpful. With the dog.

[Keyword 'tried'. Max is just not very approachable, and Howard is terrible at approaching. He's not sure why he wanted to help... didn't have much to benefit from it. Max, of course, wasn't privy to Howard's brackets.]

Bothering... That's, um... What's-his-name's job. With the... [He gestures to his eyebrows. FDR has massively intense eyebrows, Peggy, it's been deemed by Max Rockatansky.] The annoying smart-mouth in our crew.

[ max is, on occasion, a language unto himself. grammar in his pauses and punctuation in his pointing. definition in the empty spaces where other words ought to be. perhaps this is why she's developed such a sand-pit, sinking, soft spot for the survivalist. at heart, peggy is a code-breaker. her eyes flit first from max's mouth and then to his fingers. she deciphers him, and allows herself a mild smirk when she correctly assesses his meaning. ]

FDR. Foster. Yes -- well, it's funny you should call it his job. [ a narrowed look, as though max's word-choice permits fdr his liberties. ] He's a persistent sort. Not very good at taking no for an answer.

[ not that he's asked her for anything ludicrous. but there had been a request to dance. ]

[Max rolls his eyes, looking sour, and it almost seems like he's just thinking aloud.]

F'had to lock him out of the shuttles.

[Translation: he was pissing me off and I needed the world's best earmuffs.

Too clingy. Max hates clinging. His personal space is personal, ffs.]

Watch him. [ mild. she won't go so far as to warn max -- to think, for a second, that he cannot look out for himself when it comes to nosy shipmates. but there rears that soft spot once again, and peggy knows max doesn't see the same tells she does. ] He's more than just a face worthy of a right hook.

[ far be it from her to spoil a fellow agent's cover, but: ] If I can bypass those locks, then so can he. Fair warning.

[ perhaps that's all the clues max needs. ]

[He raises his brow.]

I watch everyone.

[Nobody is safe, everyone is a threat. That's how Max gets by without completely shutting down — staying vigilant and wary of anyone near him. It's only as of late that it's been crumbling, allowing room for people in a ship that is too small to stay too far away.]

... He fights well. Knocked a man unconscious, took his credits without hesitation. Pocket change. Simple scavenge. [He sweeps his hand, as if wiping the unconscious man right off the metaphorical board.] Normal business. He's involved in combat often, hmm... involved in killing to avoid people remembering his face.

[He's always taking notes, Peggy.

Be careful around him.]

[ and now things just get a little barmy -- because here she is, advising him to keep an eye which leads to her learning something new. involved in killing to avoid people remembering his face? yes, that gets slotted away into the mental file: foster, fdr.

she settles back into bed. curious. ] What else have you noticed about our little crew, then?

[ let's pool notes, nearly-friend. ]

[Hmm. He rubs his chin, considering her...

... amused?]

Trying to use me to gather intel? Not very, ah, respectful of crew privacy.

[~~You're such a spy omfg.~~]

Had I been using you, I never would have asked out-bloody-right. [ aye, there's the rub. she's too close to home -- to mucked and mired in the agency, where intel and assets are what matters most. it may be some weeks before she settles back into her domestic self. ] My transparency is a courtesy, you know.

[Ha.]

You don't have to be secretive 'bout it to use people. Can transparently use someone.

[He makes it sound like a very natural thing to do; he also sounds very used to being the one being used. Thankful, even, that she's at least being honest and isn't at all beating around the bush. He's been used up before, without being told. The sand in the guzzoline rig was one such occasion.]

Who d'you want to know about? I usually... ah. Avoid people, most of the time.

[ -- he gives her access to his knowledge. he asks her what she wants to know. but something more important has cropped up, and to punctuate its priority, she lowers the ice pack from her temple. peggy looks at him with fixed, pointed eyes. ]

I will never use you like that. Not ever. I swear it. I will tap you on the shoulder for help -- and I will ask you to share what you know from time to time. Because that's what people do when they're part of a...[ team ] ship, together. But I will never deplete you. I'm not that sort of person. We aren't that sort of people.

[ because it all comes back to the ink on his back. to the blood-bags. and peggy believes they are above such behaviour. they are not the villains who hung him upside down. they are not the atroma. ]

... That so.

[Peggy is too nice, too many morals, and it will be shocking if that doesn't kill her someday soon. If the world doesn't cripple her ideals, anyway; from what she said, war and violence is just a breath away, easily. But Max just watches and listens, a thoughtful sort of look to him like he is dissecting everything she says word by word. Studying the response for obvious lies, or inaccuracies, or hesitation. He doesn't often focus on words, on sound. So rusty.

Hrmph.]

We all have a use.

But -- Hrm. It's good to choose it.

Yourself.

[isn't it?]

Edited 2016-03-08 16:41 (UTC)

[ she nods. ]

And good, too, to know our value. [ it's not a sin all on its own to quantify yourself and what you bring to the world. ] The one we make for ourselves, and not the one the world forces around our necks.

[Huh. He glances at the dog — Rock. Old huffy creature, not particularly playful but quiet and observant and healing. To know your value, is that it? Max isn't sure at all what his value is. He supposes he's good at fixing things. Piloting a shuttle. But it's a role others could easily fill, if he were gone. At the very least, he can see how something is valued, even if you can replace it. But that's what his life has been, his core way of moving along: you don't need me anymore. Here in the Fleet, he doesn't have some big feat to accomplish. There's no base under siege, or people fleeing from a violent oppressor. There aren't kids who want to find another, more wonderful world that he can help them to.

Previsions are stocked. His small tasks are relatively in order... He can either provide transport, or give someone blood. But what is he thinking? He should just be worried about what he can do for himself. Survival is key, the basic element. He has to remind himself that he's merely bunked in the same area. Forced, to a degree. He wouldn't be here if he had a choice, right? He doesn't like to think about it too much. He could leave whenever he'd like, if not for the Atroma.

Right?

But what's in it for Peggy? To apply value to Max? He supposes his survival skills, what little is sane and logical and useful. Keeping knowledge close is smart, and he has no doubts about Peggy's intelligence. It's no wonder she puts effort towards talking to him, even as he is. Max can see the potential.

He does not at all consider any possibly that Peggy genuinely enjoys his company.

That's never been a consideration for anyone in his life.]

Hmm... Then my value today is keeping injured crew restful.

[He motions to her and the dog, without thinking much about the gesture.]

And what a fine job you've done.

[ her answer is equal measures praise and problem. peggy doesn't like being grounded -- that much is clearly obvious. also obvious is the fact that not many could have persuaded her to sit back down, but perhaps there's something about her own desire not to push max away that makes it more palatable to obey when he bids her stay put. as much as she'd rather roam away and sink her fingers into other questions with other answers, she puts far more value on -- on what? keeping him near. keeping in his good books. nurturing this odd lop-sided sort of association. ]

I suppose it's only fair of you to return the favour. After all, after you'd gone swimming... [ she trails off. almost smiling. ]

[Ah. He glances away, thoughtful. He remembers, alright. He remembers little hands grabbing, pulling, trying to usher him into the depths. He remember Glory, grabbing for his ankle. They always want him to join them, and he can't blame them, because they are gone and he is here — and there's an unfairness there that can't be easily measured.]

Dragging me down... Mm.

[He mumbles the rather cryptic (or perhaps not) comment, but then seems to snap back to Peggy, giving her his exasperated attention.]

... I don't swim often. Earth's dried up. Y'can pump water out of the earth...

[He knows how to swim, though. From his distant youth.]

Drought, [ she guesses. or perhaps something worse. honestly, it's a horror to think about. but as much as she wants to push it from her mind, she won't do him and his experiences the disservice of playing naive. ] Well, it's not as though I swim all that often either. Although just about a week ago I did have an altercation in Howard Stark's pool that --

I suppose it's not really a week ago. Bloody hell.

[Max mostly just observed her with raised eyebrows.

She must've really been put through the mental wringer. Lucky her, she's with the person who is so utterly used to that happening to himself, he doesn't make any fuss out of it. The Wives and Furiosa didn't much either, but it's not uncommon for people to go crazy in his world; really, if you avoided some semblance of insanity you were lucky.]

Hmm. Have tried to find the ocean.

No luck yet. Mostly salt. [He shakes his head.] Useless.

Australia, didn't you say? [ -- something like that. she could remember talk of that continent, at least. ] Big place. Perhaps...

[ but she trails off. what max deserves isn't platitudes. not empty hopeful words. peggy shakes her head. ] We have weapons, now, that could likely do that to the world. Dry it up. Waste it.

[ she looks apologetic. ] I'd hoped I might remember you, actually. If I went home. A -- [ cautionary tale ] -- beacon. A sign.

[ silence, then. perhaps it's too much to tell a person. ]

[He nods quietly.]

A warning sign.

[His words from before, the tattoo on his back. He was adamant about his place in the world, being a cautionary tale for an altogether different reason. For madness, he meant, but Peggy's use of him suffices plentifully, too.]

Hn.

... don't let it hurt s'much as you think it should. You're just one person. Can't expect to hold the world when it's pushing for death.

[For all of Max caring under the surface, it's not that he's hypocritical all the time; he cares for himself, ignores a lot in his world. If a city falls, it falls. He watches from afar. He leaves them in his rear view mirror. He's mercy-killed, but he's rarely gone out of his way to help save someone's life --

There are some exceptions.

But that's the point.

Care for what you can.

Stuff the rest.]

[ -- how thoroughly bizarre that she should find in max some tenuous similarity to edwin jarvis, of all men. perhaps their messages are to cross purposes, but his words resonate. there is not a man or woman, no matter how fit he or she may be, who is capable of carrying the entire world on their shoulders -- and yet, it's what she does. time and time again.

even now. ]

Someone must. [ and captain america's gone. ]

[He looks pessimistic at the answer, to be sure.]

Someone will try.

But... doesn't matter, if everyone else doesn't.

[He just knows. Knows one person trying to change things won't do anything. She's going to run herself into the ground for a world that doesn't care.

Max gave up on people twenty years ago.]

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