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[mucked]

Who: Peggy Carter and YOU
Broadcast: Audio + Text
Action: Aboard the Starstruck.
When: Evening

[ it's been a long day. long week. long bloody month. and tonight, in the rebuilt space of a bedroom now properly shared, peggy carter is reading a book. not just any book, really. but that's a story for another time. for now, she's prepared to proceed publicly as though nothing is amiss.

in the handful of hours before bed, she takes to the network with a brief puzzle. ]

VHOILVKQHVV PXVW DOZDBV EH IRUJLYHQ, BRX NQRZ, EHFDXVH WKHUH LV QR KRSH RI D FXUH

[ and attached to the text is an audio messsage. ]

I know it's been a little while since the last one -- and some of you lot who most enjoyed them have gone and left. So we'll ease back into it with something simple. Simple, but no less fundamental. Solving it is all well and good but, as always, there are bragging rights up for grabs for anyone who names the source. Fair warning -- English is the native tongue.

And while I've got your attention, I suppose I ought to do my due diligence [ however reluctantly ] and ask whether anyone else has purchased the upgrade which merges two rooms together. It may be worthwhile to swap notes on how those changes came into effect.

[ and that's that. although she'll be awake for a little while yet -- answering messages and putting on a brave face. truth is, things have gone pear-shaped and she's only just realizing how much recovery yet required. those aboard or visiting the starstruck can find her at her desk, hatch left open, in her and steve's newly merged room. ]

( ooc: and because not everyone has the out-of-character time or inclination for codebreaking, here is the quotation peggy's posted using a caesar shift. )

Comments

[mucked]

I'd call you a lot of things, Max. But simple would never be one of them.

[theroadwarrior]

can't tell if that's a bad thing or a worse thing.

[mucked]

I would say it's better than being dull.

[ -- and before that turns sour in and of its own right. ]

And I've not once found you dull.

[ not even upon meeting his younger self, before it all went to shit. ]

[theroadwarrior]

well yeah, i'm prickly

[... And also surprisingly self-aware.]

[mucked]

I do believe we've already proven I can match you prickle for prickle.

[ so she's not bothered. she rather likes him a bit difficult; it's a problem. ]

[theroadwarrior]

guess that's proven.

be back eventually. soon.






sometime unspecified.

[mucked]

I'll put the kettle on. Soon.

[theroadwarrior]

[Max will leave it at that, but he does eventually return with all the things asked of him. Including fire extinguishers. In fact, he walks into the kitchen Peggy currently occupies and puts one extinguisher, standing, right in the middle of the table. Not a word from Max, of course, per the usual.

Hello.]

[mucked]

[ pip pip.

peggy glances up from her comms device just as the extinguisher thuds onto the table. her brows lift, but she doesn't say anything. yet.

things might still be delicate. they've started a patch job, surely, but she can't go pushing too hard too far too fast. not least of all considering one last sticking point she's got in the back of her head. but this one's not with max -- so, in theory, it shouldn't rear itself too aggressively in this conversation. ]

Pour yourself a cup.

[ -- it's a bit like an invitation. if you squint. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[If you squint.

Well, he'll pour a cup, he supposes. Upon closer inspection, Peggy may notice Max has clearly gotten into a scuffle of some sort; he's got a bruise on his face and a cut on his hairline. All mild, of course, and merely a reminder that Max really needs to stop getting into fights. He sits with a grunt and pulls the cup closer. His leg stretches out, likely a familiar image; about a year ago, it started becoming more of a pain to bend. Probably from the mine falling thing. Eh. It's fine.

He starts plopping sugar cubes into the tea, slowly.

Plip plop, plop, plop.

Apparently, at some point, Max figured out that drinks don't have to taste as they are. Sometimes you can indulge in a flavor. Fancy that.]

[mucked]

[ -- get a load of him.

peggy starts out by leaning 'round the extinguisher. she eyes his cup with unbridled disgust as he drops sugar into the tea. sugar! and there's him, walking around stealing her drinks when, in point of fact, he takes it differently. he takes it polluted.

but she must be feeling chastened because although her look is unmistakable, peggy doesn't make a comment. not on the tea. instead, she nudges the extinguisher aside so she can get a better look at his scuffed-up face and... ]

What have you been up to, then?

[theroadwarrior]

[Sugar is good, okay. Sugar is really good in a lot of things. Especially when you haven't had sugar like this in a long, long time. The years in outer space really do wonders. He glances up, brow furrowed. He shrugs.]

Got the scraps you wanted. Bought some stuff.

[Got into knife fights.]

[mucked]

Bought it with your blood, did you?

[ she nods her chin upward -- indicating, it seems, the cuts and bruises. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He glances up, casual.]

Good stuff for cheap might involve a little blood.

[Your own included. His hand hovers at the wound on his head.]

They look worse.

[mucked]

[ she reads between the words. peggy can't approve -- but she can't exactly scold him, either. not now. so instead she turns her mug by its handle before taking another long drink. ]

Has anyone looked you over? [ the wounds, the injuries. she doubts it. nor is she quick to volunteer her own fingers given the recent bad blood between them. nevertheless, her voice softens with an edge of unavoidable concern. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He hums, sipping the sugary tea.]

Took a glance, myself. It's just a scratch.

Got off pretty good this time; even got a free knife.

[Max Rockatansky motto: just walk it off.]

[mucked]

It looks like something a bit more than a scratch.

[ -- but only a bit. she's not about to make a mountain out of a molehill. but a small bluff will do. peggy shakes her head. ]

And it needs cleaning.

[theroadwarrior]

[He looks into his tea with a little scoff, no doubt harmless and perhaps even kind. He thinks about the scars already present; the crescent under his eye, or the old one lancing across the other side of his hairline. The patches of hair on the back of his head or on the side, obvious signs of striking blows.]

You being a hen, or an agent?

[mucked]

Your captain, actually.

[ -- so a bit of both, in the end. a hennish agent concerned for the well-being of those under her purview. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He scoffs. A friendly one, in Max's lingo.]

Alright, captain. It could use some stitches.

[He seems rather uncaring if he scars. Shocking.]

[mucked]

[ as ever, if she's in for a pound then she might as well be in for a penny. peggy tests the waters while just focusing (intently) on the man across the table. ]

-- May I?

[ stitch him up. she's certain of her betrayal, yes, and she understand that it might have cost her the right to come within his personal space like that. before their spat, she wouldn't have asked. and even now, it's less about the stitches and more about her curiosity. how far has she fallen?

aizawa's request settles heavy with guilt in her stomach. peggy's asking about max's head wound, but she's thinking about his leg. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Maybe Max may surprise her yet. He shrugs.]

... Mm. ['Sure', it means. 'Alright'. Not to be confused with 'mmmm', which is a thoughtful silence, one that translates to 'I need to think on this, I'm not sure.' It's the little things, you know?] Trust you not to kill me.

[So casually spoken, a ridiculous comment a normal person would never entertain with some level of seriousness. But it's true. Max's trusts are hard earned and difficult to understand. He spends an unfortunate amount of his time judging the likelihood of danger at any given moment. His mind walks circles around it. Will this person turn on me? Will this person trick me? Are they armed? What methods would they resort to? How likely are they to turn their back in emergency? What do I have that they may try and steal away?

But. When you get passed that, it's easier. Even with the terribly unpleasant spat they'd had, he seems more capable of looking passed it than perhaps expected. Even with matters of the heart.]

[mucked]

[ peggy smiles.

it's crooked and tampered and quiet but it is undoubtedly a smile. she smiles it before he even manages to speak. his mm, which she reads as fluently as anything else, is what makes the corners of her mouth lift. ]

I should hope so. [ ... ] My bedside manner might leave a great deal to be desired, but I'm fairly certain I can stitch a cut without killing a man.

[ but first? tea. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He cocks his head to the side.]

Don't doubt it. Just don't think you'd turn on me like that.

90% sure. Maybe 95%. Still trying to work through every scenario.

[It's said with casual gruffness, but it's serious enough.]

[mucked]

Don't strain yourself too hard with the calculations.

[ peggy drains about half of what remains in her mug. it's still hot, yes, but she must have some sort of asbestos tongue. ]

I do hope to hit one hundred. One of these days.

[ she adds. quiet -- almost thoughtful. ]