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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

[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. ]

[theroadwarrior]

You might not. Ever get to 100%, I mean.

[He glances over at her, tapping a finger on the table. Drinking his tea.]

Not because of anything you do. I just... ah... can't.

[His brain doesn't let him, not like it should. He ignores the little voice, of course, but he also goes into situations putting his trust in Furiosa, in Peggy, in so few others... and thinking, at some point, this is the moment they turn their backs. There will always be that moment, that preparation for something bad to befall him, that sharp pang, an imagination running wild. Some days, he stands cleaning a glass and hears Peggy's high heels, and he imagines her putting her pistol to the back of his head and pulling the trigger. Splat.

Moments like those, he always keeps his back to the sink.

But it's not her. It's never been their faults, not yet.]

[mucked]

[ peggy nods. she understands -- or, at least, she can try to. but the point isn't so much that he needs to hit that stat as much as she must strive for it. to work diligently not to give him any reason to doubt her ever again.

and to that end: ]

Won't stop me from aiming for it.

[theroadwarrior]

[His gaze flicks to the side.

Really, part of it is also because he can't trust himself. He feels like he can't, anyway, never could after -- after what happened all those years ago.]

Just don't want to get your hopes up.

[He doesn't get too hopeful, himself. Over anything whatsoever. It's a good way to live, as far as he's concerned.]

[mucked]

Have I ever given you the impression that a dashed hope or two could ever knock me back?

[ a lift of her eyebrows. peggy will weather it all, yes, with cynicism and guff. but that won't stop her from having faith. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Max furrows his brow and huffs through his nose, leaning back.]

... There's a first time for anything.

[But that's obviously his only defense.]

[mucked]

Funny. [ she cocks her head to the side. ] I could have told you the same thing about reaching a hundred percent.

[theroadwarrior]

[... grumble

He motions to his forehead. Are you gonna keep him waiting, Captain Carter?]

[mucked]

[ peggy pushes back from the table. alright, then, max! she grabs her mug and then makes a play to reach for his, suggesting he'd better down its contents before she snatches it for the sink. ]

Here? Or shall we retire somewhere a little more private? [ ... ] You'd been using your quarters more and more before you absconded for a while.

[theroadwarrior]

[Oh, don't worry, he never wastes a drop; Max hasn't left a scrap of anything he's ever eaten aboard the fleet, that much is sure. He even looks a bit affronted for a moment, pulling the mug sharply close. Not a new motion. It's simply a reflex at someone taking nutrience. Hydration. But then he drinks it down and carefully offers it back.]

... Have I?

[He looks unsure, considerate.]

Up to you, I guess.

[mucked]

I do suspect Mister Hunter might register a complaint or three if I start administering first aid in the middle of his kitchen. [ peggy takes the emptied mug, clinks it next to her own, and turns her back on max while she rinses both out. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Oh, you. He's so self-conscious of the turn of her back. Like he's the one doing it. But he doesn't utter a word of complaint or lecture — because. Because. It's not normal, to complain about turned backs. Oh, it's normal in his head, but reality here is always turning everything he's known on its side, leaving it to scrabble and mewl; that's it, that's the wastelander rhetoric. He stands up slowly, perhaps a bit more slowly than usual. His leg hurts.

He doesn't complain about something that has hurt for two decades. That's ridiculous.]

Makes me want to leave used bandaids where he cooks.

[mucked]

Max. [ she nearly growls -- glancing over her shoulder while the water still runs. she shakes out the dregs; gives the mugs a perfunctory swab. ] That's a bit vile even by your standards, I think.

[ but it does raise the question, doesn't it? ]

Has something happened to make you so keen to frustrate our cook?

[ she turns off the tap and wipes her hands dry on a towel. ]

[theroadwarrior]

Just seems like an easy target.

[Max says it so casually. Really, he's not about to go out of his way to annoy Rip, but it just seems like it'd be a funny way to pass the time if he'd ever had the want or energy. Poor, poor Rip Hunter.]

[mucked]

We finally have got a cook again. Don't you dare run him off.

[ peggy suspects the man mightn't be such an easy target but arguing so would risk inadvertently encouraging max. so, instead, she breaks out her best disappointed schoolmarm voice and holds up a finger in pre-dismay.

she says nothing about how she'd run the cook off for a few days back on the marsiva. nor does she ask whether max thinks she's an easy target. there's some ammunition that's not worth giving. ]

Come on, then. Your room.

[theroadwarrior]

... I don't even know why we have a cook.

[He grumbles, following her.

Huff.]

[mucked]

-- Because some of us like our foods to have taste. Real taste.

[ and because peggy likes to keep useful people close aboard the starstruck, but that's a whole other discussion which she's not prepared to have at this moment. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[PSSHT. He looks unconvinced.]

It all tasted fine to me.

[mucked]

You've been caught eating dog-food, Max. I can be forgiven for refusing to listen to your 'wisdom' on anything related to taste and flavour.

[theroadwarrior]

You say 'caught' like I was hiding it.

[#unfazed!!!]