driftfleet | everybody's starstruck in june.

[Shockingly, Rip has not pointed out the napkins merely for Peggy's amusement--nor for her to ignore. She arches eyebrows as if he's said something ever so witty, rather than a quiet reminder that neatness is appreciated, particularly in shared spaces where there's food to be kept from the space rodents.

(And not only because somehow, Rip suspects that Raymond's method of capturing a rat and presenting it as a gift won't go over so well with Peggy.)]

Spoken with all the certainty of a person who has likely never attempted to cook either one. [He plucks out one of the napkins, and does one better now that Peggy's left the task to him. Abandoning the stove for a moment Rip takes the fork and tissue both over to the table, setting the former on the latter in front of one of the chairs. It takes a step or two, just as many seconds. Good thing too.

Fake eggs don't take too long to cook once they're on the heat.]

I suppose we should, yes. [If this morning is any indication, it would seem the shine's worn off. Rip's committed now, and he can only assume there's some manner of speech concerning expectations and such to be had. He's listening, though he's also busy. The eggs get turned out onto a plate, and set on the counter as Rip gives Peggy a glance.

They're hers if she wants them--to eat at the table.]

[ he's thoroughly correct in his assessment. so much so, perhaps, that peggy knows better than to fight him on that ground. truth be told, she shouldn't be fighting him on any ground. but she can't help a little grimace when he marches her fork over to the table, napkin and all, before setting about his work.

what's worse? being lectured or coddled. because the latter is starting to feel an awful lot like the former. and very few in her crew take that tack with her -- peggy wonders if she isn't losing some of her edge.

but then her stomach growls and, with a huff, she grabs the plate and heads for the table. worse than bloody miriam fry, this one. peggy reminds herself that his deft defiance goes hand-in-hand with the clever mind she'd poached him for. it's a cold comfort. she can redress the balance later. ]

Things have been a bit tense since the asteroids. [ she sets her mug down, then her plate, and then slides onto the galley table's bench. ] I hope you'll forgive me any delay in your -- orientation, let's call it.

[ the overtly polite quality to her tone, now, is purposeful. entirely purposeful. ]

[Huff though she may, on the whole Rip considers it a victory. Truth is, he might not have gone so far if she hadn't ignored his comment in the first place--or looked so bloody entertained by it--but she knows damn well that he was once a ship's captain himself. Certainly it can't come as so much of a surprise that Rip might have his own particular way of doing things.

The stove is turned off, the now empty pan set taken over to the sink where Rip puts a bit of water into it. Not much; just let it soak before he sets about cleaning up for the morning. The last thing is his tea, which may have suffered from some over-steeping; he's yet to get the timing involved in this brand of multitasking down pat, sadly.

Ah well. A touch extra sugar would hopefully fix things well enough. In the meantime, he glances over his shoulder at Peggy, who has suddenly gotten ever so polite again.

And in turn, Rip gets the sneaking suspicion he's about to be played somehow.]

It's understandable. [He grants her that much before taking his tea over to sit across from her at the table. Having had rather enough of eggs for the time being, he's content to sip at the hot beverage instead.]

No time like the present, hmm?

[ she laughs through her nose -- sharp and mostly sardonic. before she begins in earnest, however, she lifts the contentious fork and tucks in to some 'official' first few bites. it's actually quite remarkable to be having a proper brekky again in the mornings. grateful though she is, peggy's now reluctant to let it show.

still, after moment: ] I don't know who you've managed to meet. Hopefully those you have met haven't given you much trouble.

[ this much, at least, is sincere. peggy might cause herself and a few others a great deal of grief but she's ultimately keen to keep interpersonal conflicts to a minimum aboard the ship. so far, she's not had to enact any serious discipline; she hopes it'll stay that way for a while yet. ]

We've got eight, now, counting you and a fellow who just transferred in off the Heron. [ a beat. ] Some of this you'll doubtless already know but -- bear with me. There's myself, Steve Rogers, Max Rockatanksy, Uraraka Ochako, Shouta Aizawa, someone we got last week named -- [ a snap of her fingers; he's still new ] -- Rangetsu. Yourself, last week. And just today we've gained Sam Wilson.

Congratulations, you're no longer the greenest aboard.

[She may not let it show, but at these early stages? The fact that she does indeed tuck in without pulling any sort of face is quite enough for Rip. While he suspects there are improvements to be made, given the level of skill involved pairs with the subpar materials, he considers "pleasantly edible" a suitable enough goal for the time being.

Only for now; while there's still a great deal about this particular assignment that gnaws at him, it hardly means Rip will be content to stay terrible at it.]

Not too much, no. [There have been a few encounters along the way, though nothing too notable. Unless she wants to hear about Steve potentially working the treadmill to within an inch of it's life, that is.

He doesn't offer up the tidbit in the end. Instead, Rip listens as Peggy recounts the names, committing them to memory. It's already more of an introduction than he'd gotten on the Caprine, so certainly he can't say she's off to a bad start.]

Cheers. [To not being the newest. He lifts his cup up an inch or so to complete the mock toast.] You've made mention of Mr. Rockatansky, and I had occasion to meet Mr. Rogers before the incident on the asteroids--though clearly after his glitch had ended, from his appearance.

-- Is that so.

[ not exactly a question. and if peggy feels an odd twist in her gut that the meeting had already happened, she doesn't betray it now. it should almost be entertaining that rip makes such an observation concerning the wake of steve's glitch. by way of a reply, she takes a breather from her meal. she sets the fork onto the plate, canting it against the edge for the time being. ]

I suppose the difference is rather obvious. Even if you hadn't seen him beforehand. [ but with a clearing of her throat, she perhaps proves herself unwilling to say anything else about steve without good reason to do so. ] Mister Wilson, having just joined us, is a friend of his. He'll be looking after engineering once he gets his bearings.

[ she's not ignorant of how rip's been attempting to learn the ship. peggy approves -- and so perhaps this is a simple nod to let him know the engine room mightn't stay so empty from hereon in. ]

It's been a damn long time since we've had so many positions filled.

[ now that's worth a near-smile. ]

[He hums an assent, not exactly an answer, taking that moment to wrap both hands around his cup of tea and enjoy the warmth. When she goes on to say it's obvious he of course agrees; there's even a hint of a wry grin on his lips.]

Obvious indeed. I doubt the shirt would've made it fully onto one of his arms as he is now.

[Okay, perhaps that is a bit of exaggeration--but honestly, Rip hasn't forgotten just how tight the blasted thing had been on him. Certainly it's laughable at least to a degree, given how Steve is "meant" to be.

But the touch of humor remains brief. The connection is noted, along with the position. From what he'd been able to tell, engineering was the only "official" role they'd been lacking.]

Has it? Then I suppose we should all count ourselves fortunate to have what sounds like a full compliment.

[ let it be known that peggy carter will not be baited into discussing steve rogers's arms -- not their size, their steadiness, nor anything else about them. but she may bury her attention all but briefly into her tea for a moment if only to keep herself from falling trap to some biting reply.

old habits die the hardest, and she's never done well discussing steve in even the most general of terms. this time, she hasn't got a recent fight to incite her toward honesty. ]

Fortunate? [ she repeats -- as though luck had much to do with it. peggy's put some mental elbow grease into this current roster. very little of it had stemmed from fortune alone. barring, perhaps, the fortune of any unfortunate soul finding themselves trapped within the fleet. ] I suppose so.

You've been familiarizing yourself with the Starstruck itself, if not its crew. Are there any questions I can answer for you?

[ best get this out of the way. eventually, peggy realizes she'll have to put a few cards on the table. she's dreading it. ]

[Well, isn't that interesting? Rip had sensed a bit of hesitance on Peggy's part the first time they spoke of Steve, although in the end she'd been honest regardless. This time, suddenly, a simple cuppa draws her full attention away.

Funny how that works out.

But then a mistake is made, one Rip realizes readily when Peggy repeats his wording. The friction over placement of forks without napkins aside, he's willing enough to cop to that one--particularly if the implication that Rip stands as but the latest of her "poaching" stands true.]

Fortunate by design, then. [As Ray Palmer had once suggested: destiny being the resulting sum of their own choices. He arches an eyebrow then, quietly asking if that might be a more acceptable turn of phrase.

Good timing, too. Seems Rip now has the opportunity to what he may like of her. Far be it from him to bypass what's been offered. He mulls over what information he might press for as he takes a slow sip of tea, his gaze lingering on the cup as he sets it down a beat later.]

Your life prior to the Fleet, Miss Carter. [Because out of everything they'd touched upon, Peggy had been most reticent in this area. He keeps his fingers wrapped around the mug, though now he looks towards her.] I'm still rather curious as to what you did before you were drawn here.

Edited 2017-06-03 16:17 (UTC)

You'd like a rundown of my CV.

[ a huff of breath. peggy supposes she can't blame him -- neither of them have been terribly forthcoming, although she's at least gleaned enough from him to understand what value he might provide to the ship. by contrast, she knows, she's given him very little. and (to borrow his wording for a moment) that had been absolutely by design.

peggy delays just long enough to shove a few more unceremonious mouthfuls of egg into her face. she chews, she swallows, she bobs her head with apparent (if reluctant) concession. ]

That's the sort of thing could get me drawn and quartered -- back home. [ and if it sounds as though she's making light of the consequences, that's because she certainly is. it's all a bit moot, confidence-wise, once she realizes the things she'd long since refused to tell have otherwise passed into a matter of public record. ] I signed the Official Secrets Act. So you'll also forgive me my hesitation when it comes to this sort of discussion.

[ but! she's not saying this to deflect, for once. peggy pushes her plate to the left; the conversation just got serious. ]

How familiar are you with your mid-20th century history, Mister Hunter?

In a sense. [It might be truer to say he wants a better idea of her, given that Rip has arguably signed over his loyalty with that transfer. He has ideas, of course, ones rooted in her demeanor, her time period, the few hints she has dropped. But now Rip wants confirmation, both of what he already suspects and of the woman's character itself.

He's learned rather thoroughly just how little a crew appreciates secrecy in their captain after all, even if the captain deems such precaution necessary.

In the end, she gives away a great deal by mentioning the Official Secrets Act, and the way he looks up in recognition might provide ready reply to what she prompts from him next. Still, she doesn't seem intent on using it as an excuse for further avoidance. To that end, Rip nods.]

I've got a decent working knowledge of the period. [He's spent a significant amount of time there, over various visits. It's a rather popular era for amateur time pirates who mistakenly believe that war might cover any aberrations they could cause.] At least as it existed in my universe.

[ -- so he knows. well, that's easy enough. peggy surmises that if he understands the legal bindings involved with her work, then maybe he'll overlook how vague she's likely to be. it's different when discussing these matters with steve -- or natasha, or any of the so-called avengers. peggy understands their clearance level; she understands they're likely levels above where she sits, back home.

not so rip hunter. heaven knows what a space captain from the future needs to know about old (antique) tradecraft secrets. but she's talked with enough people from even the twenty-first century to whom some matters of basic covert ops had turned into the stuff of movie scripts.

so she talks more freely, maybe, than she ought to. ]

There's the war, of course. I served. And I spent most it as a British liaison with the SSR. [ she reaches for her tea. peggy won't say from which british agency she'd been liaising from -- depending how much rip knows, he'll narrow them down neatly. mi5, maybe. or churchill's special operations executive.

(truthfully, it's both).

there's a clipped quality to her recitation. clearly, she doesn't like saying this much -- but rip's crew, now. and it's better coming from here than waiting for it to be forced to the surface through some glitch or loose lip. ]

It stands for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. I'm well aware of this agency's unique existence within my own 'world', Mister Hunter. Unless we're from the same place, I rather doubt you've heard of it. But I did have a fellow aboard the Starstruck for some time who was able to compare notes. He'd decided what I call the SSR has a sort of analog in other universes -- commonly called the OSS. After the war, I stuck with them.

[ and there you have it. peggy didn't follow any particular person back to the states; she'd followed the job. ]

Edited 2017-06-03 17:27 (UTC)

[He listens, respectfully silently as Peggy spells out so much more than she'd been willing to share in their earlier encounters. As is so often the case, the answers themselves provide ironic context for her reticence, and more. While she may not detail every assignment or her precise position, the organization that led her down the path to the SSR, as she calls it?

Rip still doesn't consider it truly vague--though that is perhaps fueled as much by his own ability to draw connections and fill in blanks.

He toys with his cup where it sits on the table, idly turning it in his hand even as he leans back where he's seated. She explains the one bit he doesn't know right away, confirming for Rip that they aren't from the same world--and that does give him a great deal more to think about. Thus far he's been secretive about the source of so much of his knowledge of the past, claiming himself a former captain of a space ship, although that's not quite right in the end.

As of yet, he doesn't know how much of that truth he might share, but--the honesty she provides does make him consider showing the same.]

You're right: I hadn't heard of the SSR. The OSS, however, I have. [Her version, however, put science right at it's fore. Perhaps it might press too much, yet Rip again wants to test his conclusions--and perhaps to affirm that indeed, she is willing continue being truthful, as far as this goes.]

You mentioned that Mr. Rogers was something of a military experiment. [The the narrow frame described by Peggy that day at the shop had been transformed into the--well, the specimen running on the treadmill through use of science. It's not difficult to draw a line between the two, and it would make sense.

What better project for a wartime effort than to design a perfect soldier.]

[ peggy frowns. can she begrudge him his steering of the conversation back to steve rogers? had she been on his side of the table, his side of the interrogation, she very well might have done the same. rather than let it needle her, she once again reminds herself that rip's ability to tether one fresh revelation to an older one can only make the ship stronger -- no matter what her personal frustrations with how it works against her now.

when she takes a drink, it's to near-drain the mug. this, too, she sets aside. ]

I'll go a step further. Captain Rogers -- [ she uses his 'rank' from home, though certainly not the code-name. never that. ] Was something of a military success. One that was never repeated.

[ not by the ssr, at any rate. she seems proud of it. ]

I was attached to that project, yes, and others. [ she'd proven herself far comfortable discussing the punishment for breaking the official secrets act than she is now, trying to articulate the broad strokes of space around steve rogers and her association to him. ] The allies owe a great deal to Rogers and his men. I understand the war gets won with or without them, in other 'worlds', but they were rather instrumental in ours.

[ she won't go so far as to claim that description for herself; let her work speak for her. ]

Another Captain? [He knows rather little of Steve, aside from a single meeting and what Peggy's said. Perhaps it's a military rank, but Rip remembers well that ships might have multiple people at their head. It's good to clarify, particularly since it would affect his present situation.

There's no further interruption after that. She rightly guesses so much of what he might want to know with that single statement, and again, offers it up freely. Once more her words turn to praise of Steve, though notably, not of her own efforts. Out of humility, confidence, or guilt?

Or some combination thereof.]

Does that mean you knew Mr. Wilson as well? [One of Steve's men, perhaps, given that Peggy had earlier described them as friends. It stands to reason Peggy might have met him along the way.]

[ her head shakes. ] Not here -- apologies, but I'm more accustomed to using Steve's army titles. He prefers not to use the rank here in the Fleet; I likely shouldn't have said it at all. Here, he's -- Steve. I'm certain he'll tell you as much in his own time.

[ because captain america is no more, in effect. the shield has been hung up and the mission has changed. peggy isn't sad to see it go, but she's sad to see it go like this. fading into infamy; hunted and a fugitive. but she knows that's not her story to tell. it never will be.

so she's grateful when rip brings up a different question. even this one, by contrast, seems like a easy lob compared to the question of whether steve was a captain or not. ]

Before the fleet? No. We'd never met.

[ -- peggy doesn't offer than answer any more flesh than that. ]

Edited 2017-06-03 18:39 (UTC)

[He's quick to wave a hand.] No apologies necessary. I simply wanted to be clear on how things were organized aboard the ship. [Although he does pause once more when she says he's just Steve.] It's likely he will--although I don't drop the habit of address easily.

[He's been raised properly, after all.

Rip's willing enough to believe the matter of Sam as it stands--largely because he hasn't equated Sam Wilson with the Sam of the twenty-first century, who'd rather wished he'd been trapped on something called the Food Network instead of here. Peggy's been forthcoming thus far, even when it comes to things that she's proven reluctant about.

Thus, he's got no reason to believe anything is amiss.

Rip finishes off his tea as well. Now might be a convenient time to rise, break the conversation in favor cleaning up or whatever other excuse he might find. But with her cards on the table as they are, Rip does feel a pull to offer something of the same.

Besides--she is the Captain. She should be aware of the resources at her disposal. So with a drawn in breath, and a glance towards the door to ensure they are, in fact, still alone, Rip begins to tell a truth that he hasn't given so freely to anyone in this Fleet before now.]

In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess: I haven't been fully honest with you about my profession, either.

Edited 2017-06-03 18:50 (UTC)

[ -- in the middle of it all, there's room for a slight smirk. she understands the habit; she suffers from much the same. nevertheless, the casual nature of many in the fleet finds a way to overcome the way they'd like to address those around them. there comes a point where courtesy hinges on calling someone what they want to be called.

(the thought makes her miss winn. she sets that sorrow aside. now's not the time.)

rip glances at the door and peggy begins to worry she might've said all she's said without any chance of quid meeting quo. he puts that fear quite quickly to bed with his next few sentences. peggy nods. ]

I think I would have had to been a fool to believe you were. [ fully honest. he knows what she's been, now -- although no one's said the word 'spy'. she's often prepared for someone to be anything other than what they say they are. ]

But if you're about to tell me you've not actually been captain of a spaceship, Mister Hunter, I think I shall be very cross with you.

[ after all, that was part of why she'd asked him aboard the starstruck. ]

[It's fair to expect something from him, after all of that. Equally, for her to have assumed Rip still kept some things hidden. He had, after all, promised a certain talent for keeping secrets. Yet even with that in mind, not to mention the serious nature of their conversation, he can't help but fight off a grin when she promises to be very cross should her assumption about his job be a lie.

Only because technically? It is.]

I suppose we'll simply have to see. [Now it's his turn to wonder just how much to tell. Once upon a time it would have been easier--but so much has changed over the past few years. Too much, to make any of this simple.]

It's true that I was a captain, and of a ship capable of traveling through space. Just not a spaceship, precisely.

[A play on words, but one rooted in truth. After all, the Waverider's primary function had not been to traverse the stars.]

It was, in fact, a timeship.

Edited (typos!!!!!) 2017-06-03 19:04 (UTC)

[ oh hell. ]

A timeship.

[ she echoes his clarification, doing absolutely nothing to avoid a frown. now -- peggy's got no experience in this wheelhouse apart from the rather obvious complications stemming from being a woman from one era surrounded by people from many, many others. and perhaps that's what makes this sprung revelation that much worse; after all, when they'd first met, she'd sparred a little too willingly over questions of history, of the future, and of what influences both. it now blindsides her that the argument might have held a professional bent for rip hunter. ]

Good Lord. [ she allows herself a bit of marvel and dismay. ] That's exactly what it sounds like, isn't it?

[ once upon a time, she might have been plagued with doubt. not so much now; she's learned too much. heard too much. seen too much. ]

[For Rip's part? He does at least attempt to temper his amusement. There's often something delightful in seeing that mix of amazement and yes, even annoyance that comes when a person is confronted with a possibility that exists beyond the limits of their own understanding. Particularly so, as Rip has discovered, when it's rooted in something he knows quite well.]

Exactly what it sounds like, yes.

[He'll pause there. Give Peggy a minute, if she needs it.]

[ she needs a beat, at least, but not a minute entire. what brushes she's had with the concept are almost entirely constrained to sam winchester's wild stories -- or things mentioned in the marginalia of other conversations. or, of course, her own wildest imagination.

(secret hopes, too, when she considers what might be done to save bucky barnes. save steve rogers. but peggy doesn't need to think long nor hard to realize that's the sort of thing one absolutely does not tell the captain of a timeship -- especially one who's so particular about where another person puts her bloody fork.)

peggy wishes she hadn't already finished her tea. bloody hell. ]

And how does one gain the rank of captain on a -- on one of those?

[ crumbs, she isn't going to say it again. ]

[Then it's Rip's turn to give consideration to his answer, specifically in regards to how much he wants to tell. In the past it would have been rather easy to spell out, and perhaps it still is--except what he offers, in the end, no longer stands as presently true.

Certainly no one would be gaining the rank in the same manner Rip had. Not anymore.]

I've been trained for it most of my life, actually. [He can answer her question in spirit, at least; Rip suspects Peggy's rather after his CV this time anyway.] As part of an organization which was created to protect the sanctity of history called the Time Masters. So a great deal of study and education, countless hours of simulation and practical training both, and a proven capacity to act in accordance to what history demanded, when faced with the dilemmas so often inherent when it comes to time travel.

[ in the end, she chooses to stomach the story. although it's certainly odd, peggy's had occasion to hear weirder since her arrival. there's no means by which credentials can be checked or verified. there's little more to vouchsafe for a person except other people. but, in rip's case, she's got her gut.

-- he mentions study, education, training. and peggy's beginning to understand that his ability to pick up on the empty spaces in her answers isn't merely an academic inclination on his part. if her eyes narrow now, then it's because this the moment where she realizes he's been cooking with more gas than he's been letting on.

good for him; it's not often she's so completely gobsmacked from deep in bloody left field. ]

'Dilemmas so often inherent' to time travel. [ crikey, that's putting it likely. just by virtue of lagging behind everyone else, she can already imagine a few headaches. goddamn, and she'd made a joke about morlocks, once, too.

it's a wonder her cheeks don't redden. ]

What a rubbish name, by the way. [ time masters. almost as bad as the avengers. piffle. ] Has anyone told you that?

[Whether or not she ultimately believes him (though how could she not, given all she must have seen during her tenure in the Fleet), Rip suspects that this extra bit of knowledge helps fill in more than a few gaps for her, much in the same way Peggy's earlier confession had done for him. Yet whatever puzzles might be solved within her thoughts go largely unspoken. Instead she picks up one turn of phrase--one which, given an earlier discussion, Peggy might have been better off leaving alone.]

Indeed. Say, for example, learning of a future one wishes to somehow change. The impact of decisions that seem minuscule could in fact alter the entire fate of a world. One wrong fact that a person learned, perhaps from being trapped with those who hale from some seventy years in her future, let's say.

[No, Rip isn't going for subtle. He wants Peggy to know, without doubt, that he didn't believe the rationale she gave for not wanting to remember anything she might have picked up while trapped here.

He still doesn't.]

I've heard commentary to that effect, yes. [Regarding the name. None of the Legends had been particularly impressed, and understandably less so once they learned the full truth of what the Time Masters intended. Rip, at that point, couldn't blame them.] All I can give in answer is that I'm not the one who chose it.

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