open » audio & text & action

[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]

Maybe you ought to have been.

[ #unfazeder!!! ]

[theroadwarrior]

You get used to things.

[He shrugs.]

Food's food. I don't enjoy it as much as I used to.

[..........

Mochi's really good though.

But it's bad to get used to things that taste good. He can't be that complacent.]

[mucked]

And yet, [ god does it always come back to this? ] You steal my tea.

[ which isn't food, exactly, but it's damn well close enough. ]

[theroadwarrior]

I thought sharing was an important life lesson for me.

[:)]

[mucked]

Stealing isn't sharing. [ ... ] And I know you damn well know the difference.

[theroadwarrior]

... Not if it's just sitting there.

[A pause of his own.]

It's good to keep you on your toes. Didn't know you'd get so British, though.

[mucked]

[ at least the glance she tosses his way is MOSTLY good-natured. ]

And what the devil is that supposed to mean?

[theroadwarrior]

It means if I tossed the tea overboard, there'd be a revolutionary war.

[If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looks humored.]

[mucked]

Gunning to join the Americans, are you?

[ there's only the two of them aboard, really. but one of them makes up for it by being actually captain america. ]

Pity.

[theroadwarrior]

[He's not gonna remind her there's no America anymore.

Instead:]

... Aren't you and the butler American?

[mucked]

Living there hardly makes me one.

[ -- as the duke of wellington once said! just because you're born in a stable, it doesn't make you a horse. ]

[theroadwarrior]

Hmm. Thought America was all about immigrants. And whatever was left of Disney.

So you're gonna go back home?

[He supposed that'd make sense.

He would feel weird anywhere else, really.]

[mucked]

[ she stops to grab a first aid kit on their way -- ducking briefly into her quarters to grab one she keeps stashed under the bed. but as they're rounding the corridor to his room, peggy offers: ]

-- Eventually. I think...[ a beat. ] I think that's where I end up. [ buried. ] In the end.

My funeral will be in a very fashionable part of London, at least.

[theroadwarrior]

Mmmm. Returned to the land you came from. Guess that's fitting.

[A pause.]

British-American, then.

[Hardy har. He enters his room and doesn't quite sit down right away — he can't really help but check the perimeter, make sure nothing's waiting for them in here. But at least he does so with some casual conversation; he figures if anything leaps out to murder him, he at least has decent back-up. Or someone who can adequately get revenge on his behalf (maybe).

His leg really is hurting today, though. He's not gonna be restless too long, what with being eager to get the weight off it.]

[mucked]

-- My passport begs otherwise.

[ is he getting under her skin? possibly. but peggy accepts that as a sign of something good. if he's looking to antagonize her so openly, then perhaps there's hope for them yet.

peggy lets him wander. she hangs back, hugging the kit to her chest. watching him go through his paces. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[If Max has a witty retort to add to that, he keeps it on his tongue. Instead, comfortable with the room now, he moves to slowly take a seat on the edge of the bed; he wears his pain well, hidden in the flicker of his eyes or the slight crease at his lips. Sitting fully, a sort of relaxed state falls over his shoulders. For once. Being at ease has never been particularly easy for him, but he seems to surrender to it for now.

Ah, yes. The spot he'd confessed how screwed up this place has made him.

He looks up expectantly, brows raised.]

[mucked]

[ peggy splits open a little sachet housing an antiseptic wipe. it's all so much more compartmentalized than it used to be -- first aid, that is. no fiddling with bottles of alcohol or fussing with reusable bandaging what needs boiling afterward.

and when she turns to him, she also nudges his knee aside so she can stand a little closer. peggy isn't gentle when she takes his head by the chin so she might turn the cut towards herself, but she is affectionate all the same. personal, really.

she dabs at the gashed wound, tidying it up before the needle. ]

What does the other fellow look like, hm?

[theroadwarrior]

[Max moves his knee, humming; they end up like this too much, bruises and cuts and whatnot.

Maybe he should take it easy.

Ha.]

Might have a harder time using one of his hands now.

But I didn't kill 'em.

[mucked]

Good.

[ it's not as though she hasn't killed. it's not as though she thinks she'll never kill again. war was war, and even in its wake there are some difficult calls that needed to be made. not ideal, but sometimes necessary.

but! importantly! those calls are considerably less necessary so long as they live in the fleet. and therefore if max heeded that distinction, she'll give him a stiff nod and a word of encouragement. she doesn't need to ask to know he's done worse in the pursuit of survival.

her gaze slides from the wound to his eyes. ]

Last thing I need is any of you lot getting in trouble with the local authorities. [ she wraps her concern up in such pragmatic terms. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Hnnn.

He does get into trouble a lot, doesn't he?]

Don't worry. Wouldn't give in to the interrogation, if they tried to figure out who babysits me.

[mucked]

[ she draws back, tossing the lightly stained swab aside before getting a better -- cleaner -- look at his wound. ]

Is that what you think I do? [ a snort of laughter. ] Believe you me, Max, you wouldn't like me as a babysitter.

[theroadwarrior]

[He rolls his eyes to the heavens.]

A dogsitter, maybe.

[The wound is certainly messy. Just like Max. But clean.

... Just like Max, fancy that.]

Diagnosis? Should I get a tombstone?

[mucked]

I do believe you'll live to gripe another day.

[ she steps back to thread a needle. there may be better more modern modes of stitching available in the fleet, certainly, if she'd bother to poke around or to ask. but there's a comfort found in administering the basics to a friend. ]

[theroadwarrior]

... Lucky me.

[How many times are you gonna thread up a needle on his behalf? He nearly scoffs. But last thing he needs is it taken the wrong way; despite the tension from earlier, he doesn't feel too bad. He's sore and aching but he's here, things are okay, Peggy's in slightly better spirits. Max is mature enough, despite appearances, to put aside the chitter-chattering hurt or betrayal from days past. Even if it lingers and whispers.

He leans his head and allows her to work.

You know. Usual business.]

[mucked]

[ she plies the thread in silence. although there are parts of her work that are gentle -- and she doesn't go out of her way to be cruel -- peggy nevertheless relies upon the knowledge that max can handle a bit of pain. she prioritizes efficiency over comfort, knowing that the long-run comfort is a better goal to chase than stitching clumsily now for fear of hurting him.

and if the opposite ever came to pass, she prays he'd do the same for her.

near the end, she speaks up. ]

The tea was a gift. [ her feet shift uneasily on the floor. ] The stuff you drank. Before we -- before I made an ass of myself. It was a gift and I couldn't bear to see it drunk by someone else. It was childish of me.

[ there. nearly another apology. ]