closed » you're the horizon line -- i'm the last sunset

[mucked]

Who: Peggy Carter & Steve Rogers
Broadcast: Definitely not.
Action: Closed, aboard one of the occasional waypoint stations as the fleet drifts.
When: Mid-afternoon

[ today, peggy decides she's done with nudges and hypotheticals. done with veiled suggestions and unfulfilled promises. she and steve had danced around the concept of going steady; of being official; of committing. they danced around it without ever really dancing at all. he'd made overtures enough, even if his follow-through was rubbish. and she feels a concrete certainty about him, even though her overtures are shite. so, today, it changes. ]

...Steve? [ peggy rapsher knuckles loose against his bunk's doorway. she looks casual (by her standards) with her hair plaited and her sleeves rolled up. she watches him from the threshold, tilting her head with a flicker of affectionate admiration. ] Let's get out of here for the rest of the day. Just us.

[ although she doesn't use the word 'date', she decides it's been suggested often enough that she needn't so crassly underline her intentions in this very moment. to do so would surely insult his intelligence.

...right? ]

Comments

[uprightness]

Might have been a bit distracted.

[ it is a game within a game and he might be more invested in the one that goes on between the lines. A dangerous concept, there's the coffee date at stake here, after all. ]

[mucked]

Distracted! [ she chuckles, rolling her eyes as she bends over the cue. admittedly, she doesn't have the clearest line from the white ball to the 1 ball. she draws back the cue. ] Trust me, you'd have noticed if I was trying to distract you.

[ she pops the cue gently forward, and eventually grazes the 1 ball -- as per regulations. but, unfortunately, nothing gets sunk. ]

[uprightness]

That's just it, Peggy.

[ he grins, walks around and coming to a halt after a few paces. Tilting his head, he looks at the 1 ball and leans, sending the white ball to nudge it into a pocket. Straightening up, he looks for number 2 but not without adding ]

You never really need to try.

[mucked]

[ oh, her giddy aunt nora. peggy exhales. her life and career has prepared her for a great many things: war; espionage; adventure. but she's never quite prepared to exchange legitimately flirtatious banter with captain steve rogers. at least, not when he manages to hold his own in the conversation. it's easy enough to needle him when she doesn't anticipate anything more than bluster and blushing -- but now?

she sighs a second time and watches him search out his next shot. ] Well. Can't say I know whether to thank you or smack you.

[ honestly! talking like he is... ]

[uprightness]

I'll make sure to stay away from that cue until you do.

[ he gestures towards her cue with a small smile before trying his luck for the 2-ball, a close shot but not quite it ]

[mucked]

[ she doesn't restrain her smile -- watching him at play. and luckily for her, his failure with the 2-ball works well for her next shot. peggy brushes a piece of loose, unplaited hair behind her ear before leaning into the table. she doesn't overthink her move, tapping the cue ball against the 2. the 2, in turn, taps the 4. and the 4 rolls obediently into the corner pocket. ]

Not too far away, I hope, [ she counters. ]

[uprightness]

No.

[ he should be paying attention to the table. Instead, his eyes follow her fingers as they tuck a curl behind her ear and oh well, a dinner is not a loss at all and if he wraps his arms around her and kiss that exact spot, he has a sure feeling she won't hit him. ]

No, never that.

[mucked]

[ no, he says. never that. her smile persists -- and she wishes this was a conventional table, so she might bide some time chalking the cue's tip. but a hologram doesn't need much chalking. instead, she walks half-way 'round the table and pops the 2-ball close to a side pocket -- but doesn't quite manage to sink it. bugger. ]

Just as well. I doubt a smack would do much good -- you're a little hardier than most.

[uprightness]

I guess that means you're left with the other option.

[ thank you or smack you, she said, after all. A tiny nudge of the white ball against the 2-ball is enough to pocket it and he considers the 3-ball next, taking his time to find the right angle. ]

[mucked]

[ ah, yes. the other option. peggy presses her lips into a tight line -- masking her smile. as he lines up his next shot, she keeps out of his way. ]

Apologies, Captain, but I think I've already gone and forgotten the other option. Silly me.

[uprightness]

Funny how those things happen -

[ he shakes his head, all open fondness and amusement. His shot for the 3-ball is precise enough and yet, perhaps because of the machine itself, the ball remains on the very edge of the pocket but not quite there. ]

Come on -

[ really? ]

[mucked]

Un-bloody-lucky.

[ and yet she's not so disappointed by his 'miss' -- peggy's ego isn't so tender that she won't take a helping hand from mechanical glitches. maybe she should be thanking the table, instead.

she breezes by him, not quite capable of stopping herself from drawing a finger across his elbow as she does so. ] Thank you, [ she makes good on her word, if a little archly. ] What a fine shot you've set up for me.

[uprightness]

[ un-bloody-lucky, indeed. But the touch, small as it may be makes up for it and he leans against the table, accepts his lack of luck with a murmur of, ]

Yes ma'am.

[ fine, indeed. ]

Guess that one wasn't meant for me.

[mucked]

Have patience. [ she rests the heel of her palm against the green surface and once again bends over the table's edge. ] The right one will be along eventually.

[ the rhetoric is flirtatious. it reaches back to a common ground: of right men; right partners; right matches. and it should be her moment to shine, but something is definitely amok with the 2-ball. the cue barrels against it at what ought to be a firm clip, but the flickering hologram of a stone merely taps against the 3-ball as though it were a solid wall. the numbered ball doesn't move at all.

beneath her breath: ] God damn.

[ with a low whistle, she steps back. mind at top-pace. ] We might have to skip it. Move on the 5 and abandon that pocket altogether. It's well-guarded, now.

[uprightness]

un-bloody-lucky.

[ said in the same imperious way she tends to talk and if there is a faux hint of an accent there, that's not his fault whatsoever. there is a definite aroma of humor here. ]

It's still your shot. That thing didn't move, after all.

[ and he did promise absolute fairness. ]

[mucked]

Oh, stuff your pity. [ she'd benefited from a glitch during one of his shots already. and, frankly, her ego won't quite allow for a second opportunity. peggy hangs back -- tapping her cue-handle impatiently against her thigh. ]

I don't need you throwing me extra chances. Take your turn.

[uprightness]

It's called fairness in my book.

[ he counters even as he straightens. scanning the table, he spots the 5-ball and hums. not an easy shot, this one. circling the table, he halts by her side. ]

you know, you're getting worked up about this whole thing.

[ it is, he dare not say it, cute. but then telling her alla that might actually get him beat up. with another thoughtful hum, he takes a step back, leans down and let's the cue send one white ball flying across the table, sending the 5-ball into a pocket. he was going for a double shot with the 7-ball but alas, not meant to be. ]</small.

[mucked]

Oh, please. [ she rolls her eyes once more. she is absolutely getting worked up -- but only in that telling manner which suggests she's feeling rather comfortable in the moment. otherwise, she might have been tight-lipped. graceful. ] It's only a game.

[ a game that's marching quickly towards its end, the nearer and nearer they get to the 9. her cheeks puff. ]

[uprightness]

That it is.

[ a calm to her metaphorical storm at the moment. the whole thing is almost unrealistic to him, standing here by a semi-functioning billiard table with her in the middle of space. ]

alright, let's see if I can get that 7-ball.

[ this time it's not the table's fault, it's a miscalculation that results in too much force that sends the white ball rushing in an awkward angle to give too big off a nudge to the 7-ball. an ordinary ball might fly to the ground, the hologram bothers to send it flying but not without returning it to its original place a second later. ]

-- think it's its way of telling me it was a foul shot?

[mucked]

That, [ she answers, ] or it doesn't know how to calibrate against your strength.

[ a fouled shot means she gets a little more leeway in where the cue ball goes. wolfish, she smiles as she takes that liberty. keeping it behind the regulation line, it feels mostly as though she's tapping air when she nudges the ball into a fair spot from which she might soon pot the 6. ]

[uprightness]

Whatever it is, seems like I'm in for it.

[ judging by that smile alone. he returns to his usual posture, leans against the table, watches the hologram-ball takes its place. ]

It's too bad they don't let us keep one of these on the ship, would have been a good way to pass the time.

[mucked]

[ she bows to the work of winning -- or, at least, to attempt a win. peggy taps the cue ball, which in turn sends the 6 rattling comfortably into a corner pocket. her smile persists. ]

You know, they may. Some of the upgrades might allow it -- or we could always consider having one of our own built. [ ... ] Could be a noble pursuit.

[ and then, abruptly, she pots the 7 as as well. unfortunately, her luck runs out with the 8. ]

[uprightness]

Well, I don't know much about these holograms - but I gotta say, the idea of building a classic one sure isn't bad.

[ and then, almost without him noticing, the 7 is pocketed as well as the 6. ]

Nice.

[ that leaves two and one that could possibly win him a victory here. ]

Give us something to do between planets.

[ he eyes the 8-ball and after a moment of thought, moves to the other side of the table and sends the cue ball, gently this time to give it the nudge it needs to roll dutifully into the nearby pocket. ]

nearly there.

[mucked]

Nice, yourself. [ she feels herself on tenterhooks. cautious, but thrilled -- that coiled understanding in the pit of her stomach that she might win or lose within the next two moves. she chokes her grip on her own cue. ] Go on, then. Let's see if you can't sink the next one. No pressure.

[uprightness]

[ there is just one, just the 9-ball, sitting there in an awkward angle, a mark of victory. he looks at it for a long moment, considering. no victory is without effort and this is not something that can be left for luck, after all. there's a coffee date on the table. ]

I'm not planning on missing the same date twice.

[ it's a good incentive as any. enough to make him change his mind and walk to the other end of the table for that shot.

he narrows his eyes only for a moment and sends the cue ball rolling towards the 9 ball, sending it into a collision with the frame which in turn sends it into the opposite pocket. ]

well.

[ hands in pockets and back he goes to lean against the table ]

Not a bad one.

[ he's pleased with himself, alright, but it's very subtle. ]