driftfleet | enter if you dare (i'm kidding we're 80% approachable)

[ a snort. a laugh. ]

I assure you, I've passed every psych eval they've ever thrown at me. Flying colours, even. [ ... ] They don't let just any old regular lunatic into the S.S.R.

[ a slip of the tongue, perhaps. or a rare gesture of honesty for which she requires no return. no quid pro quo. ]

[And fortunately for Peggy and any and all concern for privacy, Max doesn't bat an eye -- he doesn't care what people did. What they do. Nothing really holds any weight anymore, once you live in a society where so little exists in the way of occupations. She's not a slaver, or a cannibal, or a dictator, and for that he rests easy and accepts the rest.

Of course, he does file it away. But that's that.]

Mm.

[His mildly pleasant expression relaxes.]

If I leave -- f'I vanish for a while. It's not anybody.

Just need to clear everything out.

...Even this time?

[ cagey, and her guilty conscience surfaces. peggy does have one of those. but she doesn't trot it out except for on special occasions. ]

[He shrugs.]

Left because I was — [He stumbles on the word, bites it back, clears his throat.] worried.

Staying places like this, um. I know m'not... right.

[You know. Not of sound mind. To put it nicely, as far as he's concerned.]

... I mean, I was mad at you, too.

But I'm usually mad at someone for something. Everyone makes it easy.

[ well! then! so long as he was mad at her too, she supposes that makes it all alright. :|

peggy tilts her head back against the wall. her nod comes slow, and she takes her sweet time considering his earlier statement. ]

There's a man on the Heron I'd like you to meet. [ but then, in the wake of what he'd said... ] Not to befriend. And he's no doctor or guru or what have you. I think sometimes he needs to clear everything out, as well.

[Are you trying to set me up on a date.

No, but Max quirks his eyebrow.]

.... M'not very good with people.

Nor is he, if I'm honest. [ but winter had just lost the three most valuable anchors he'd had to this fleet -- and she could sense the way he'd spiraled away. he draws back from peggy more, now, than he ever did before.

it had taken until now for her to realize precisely what had been happening. winter was treating her like a gamble -- uncertain whether it was worth staying close to her, given how quickly they could be torn apart like the others. an associate lost.

perhaps she'd been going about this all wrong. instead of trying to force either monosyllabic man into a friendship they didn't well suit, maybe they needed to start with a hesitation and suspicion they both recognized. ]

But he wouldn't push you like I push you. It might be better.

[He looks away toward the rest of the cargo hold, itching the dog's head like it gives his hand something to do. He isn't sure he wants to... meet someone who's like him in that way. If that's what she's implying, anyway. He doesn't exactly figure himself to be a good person in the least. Looking into a mirror is hard enough without it becoming a metaphor when he looks at someone else.

But Peggy clearly cares about this person, or she wouldn't have asked him.

He licks his lips, pursing them.]

Don't know. Maybe. [he huffs, looking exasperated] Feels like I know too many people already. But I'll — consider this.

Thank you. [ for the consideration, if nothing else. ] If you do choose to do so -- he, ah, calls himself Winter. Metal arm. As I said, he's over on the Heron. And he's a hard man to miss when he's not trying to be stealthy.

[He ducks his head and nods.

There's really no reason to thank him. He's horrible at these things.

But his expression seems to loosen up, a dry humor replacing his hesitancy.]

... Familiar enough with metal arms.

Hopefully this one won't try to shoot in me in the head.

I can't actually make any promises on that front. [ and this is what worries her. with jim here, there'd always been the underlying assumption that he would keep winter in check. that old programming wouldn't take over and bring out hydra's best goon. ] Mention you're on my ship, if you must. That ought to do it.

[ because at least jim had set up directives in place for how to engage with peggy carter. ]

[He rolls his eyes toward her, the sass radiating despite his nearly neutral facade.]

Hmph. Great.

[So maybe fighting. Him and steel-armed people, he swears...]

You poke him out of a dead sleep with your heels, too?

I did, actually. [ she raises her eyebrows. ] Back home. Before the arm and -- before a lot of things. He was another one of those soldiers of mine, you see. But back then he was a different man.

[Max nods firmly; this, he's familiar with, even if he wasn't a soldier in the literal sense. He saw a lot of people change, when he was younger. His youth was the biggest turning point, the moment the world well and truly crumbled into the worst case scenario. He doesn't like to linger on his youth, though.]

Usually how it works...

Once you dedicate your life to stopping the darker things, the darker things trickle into you.

I'm afraid the darkness did not merely trickle into him. It -- cracked him open. Hollowed him out for horrible purposes. [ but she knocks her head gently against the wall once again. defeat, and submission. agent carter, you say too much. ]

You know what this place does, yes? Alternate versions of familiar events. Branching choices, with different endings.

[He nods, patient. That's one small blessing about Max; he doesn't push for anything. If she wants to talk, she'll talk. If she wants to stop, she'll stop. He doesn't expect anything -- anytime, these days.]

I've seen things like it. Before I was even here.

Really? [ her brows raise. ] That's curious. Ever run into two people who were, in essence, the same person but split into separate paths? Winter, he -- whatever happened to crack him the way it did? It never happened to Jim Barnes, who was until very recently captain over on the Heron. He and Jim are the same man after living two very different lives.

[He considers this for a moment, stroking his chin.]

Hard to say... Met people with the same faces, but different, hm. Walks of life.

Who knows if they were the same person or not.

[shrug.]

There are people here I've known before. They don't remember me, though.

Maybe a smaller --

[He motions a split with his hands. Fork in the road.]

...Did you know me? From before?

[ a valid sort of question. after all, rogue had. and loki as well. in some place called luceti, but where peggy could never remember being. and it's a valid question because she could easily believe it to be the sort of thing he wouldn't admit unless asked outright. ]

[He shakes his head.]

Mm. No. Memory's a little fuzzy -- don't know why. But... not you.

[Hope you're ready, he's about -- gasp -- say names.

But it's for business, so that's clearly acceptable.]

Nami's familiar. Tadashi, he made this brace. [He pats it; it's a sturdy one, better than his last.] Mm. Katniss' face, it's familiar. Different person, though. There's a woman, Kate. And... a few more, maybe, that I didn't get the names for. Saw someone who threw me through a forest once. Rather not reunite.

[He's utterly casual about it, as if he'd simply blown through a town for a few days and met the locals. His time in the last place was... changing, to be sure. But his connections were limited. Because he had space to avoid everyone, really.]

[ of the names he recited, peggy knows a few of them. a mere fraction, really. but it's more than can be said for her own familiarity. for a moment, she wonders which is more bewildering: seeing people who don't recognize you, or being seen by people you don't recognize? she's only experienced the latter; she rarely thinks about the former. ]

Sounds like trouble. [ mild. she's curious, but she does him the honour of not picking at that particular bit of gossip. ] I have met some who've claimed to know me from elsewhere. Not the easiest pill to swallow.

Mm. It's mostly good, um. For them not to remember.

[He flips Rock's ears inside out, thoughtful. Clearly he's an adult.

After a moment observing the sleepy canine, he shrugs.]

It makes things easier.

[ barely a week ago, she and jim had gone for a drink -- to grieve, in their own way, for steve rogers. and now she sits here, acutely aware that even jim (now) is gone. but at that table in some dive bar back on the station, she'd told him about the grunting monosyllabic pilot and his pet dog. and jim had told her, in turn, that dogs soften a fella.

so she watches him now, with her heard only slightly turned in his direction. is he softened? and is it the dog that's done it? ]

Are you saying from the position of one who remembers? Or one who has been remembered?

The one who remembers.

... I'm okay with remembering.

[Hn. He runs a hand over his mouth and beard. The pinky finger, like always, is an un-moving curled oddity there.]

It's okay if they don't. Makes it... easier. To step back, step away.

enter if you dare (i'm kidding we're 80% approachable)

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behold as i scan his old game for facetwins and etc

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