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]

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. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Max hums, one of those low, soft ones to let her know he heard, that he's thinking. He lets her get those last two stitches in; it's not a terribly deep or long wound. Just a pain in the ass, really. Glancing at the collection of things in the room, mostly old things, vintage things -- the train in a box, reminding him of youth, or the corded phone that by all means probably won't ever work with this technology.

There's an easiness when he speaks again.]

M'sorry.

[mucked]

-- There's no need for that.

[ she clears her throat with an awkward cough, setting the needle aside after she snips the knotted thread. ]

It's no worse than me mucking about with your record player. Except -- except I know I've got a hair trigger when it comes to Steve. [ she sighs, as though the gift-giver hadn't already been obvious. ] Not my best quality, I'm well aware.

[theroadwarrior]

... True. Real bad trigger.

[Far be it for Max not to kick her after she kicks herself.

It's done with care, though. He glances up at her.]

Still sorry though.

[People say a lot that things aren't important. And that's true -- compared to human lives.

But things are most definitely important, when there's a story behind them.]

[mucked]

[ she smooths her thumb over the fresh stitches -- heedless of the ache. ]

I could have told you. [ peggy admits. ] I could have said it then and there: this is important to me, I might have said. But I didn't. Anyone else, perhaps, and it wouldn't have much mattered -- but I feel like I ought to have told you.

[ she steps back, as though suddenly aware of the affectionate touch. ]

You can go back to drinking my cups when I'm not looking. The other stuff doesn't matter half so much.

[theroadwarrior]

[He twitches his head with a huff, before slowly adjusting his brace.

Stupid leg. Stupid, miserable schlanger of a leg.]

... We all have things we don't -- [He grunts, pulling on a strap.] -- want to say. S'fine. You told me now, anyway.

[When he moves to stand again, he slowly takes off his jacket; always such a strange sight, Max without his jacket, but it at the very least means he's not leaving immediately. And that he's comfortable, in the moment. It's funny, but his hair is darker now than when he'd first arrived. No longer bleached by the sun. When his whiskers grow in, they're far more apparent, and the strong tan he'd had has paled considerably.]

... Not as rewarding when you give me permission, though.

[mucked]

[ max settles in for the long haul, it seems, and peggy takes it as a sign that she too might be staying put for a little bit longer. she gives him space -- watches him do his best stand, to be upright, to do what he needs to do to take a baby-step towards settling.

and when he talks about permission, she does laugh. ]

Shall I rescind it, then? I swear. You and Steve both will be the death of me. Incorrigible rebels.

[theroadwarrior]

Mm, that's me. Rebellious tea drinker.

[We all know the tea is the least of Max's troublemaking, but... we'll just ignore that.]

... Been thinking of... getting the knee looked at.

[mucked]

I know. [ she owns the knowledge with ease and confidence. ] Aizawa told me. He also said you named me as someone you'd allow to give the leg a once-over. I'd be willing -- so long as I remain in your good graces?

[ 'good' graces. ]

[theroadwarrior]

Mmm... Don't know. This could all be a ploy. Revenge for your tea.

[He shrugs, though, more seriously. He's checking a spot on his sleeve where he'd gotten a little blood from his earlier fight, but really, he doesn't want to look her in the eyes when he says all of this truthful and, between the lines, sentimental shit.]

... People get into it, sometimes. Doesn't change that they're good company.

Besides -- you're not the only person who falls out of my good graces from time to time.

[mucked]

Oh, I'm not. Am I? [ she nearly laughs. it's so inappropriate, but she can't help herself. peggy's smile bursts suddenly into quick and earnest existence. she's nearly grinning. ] I doubt that would come as a surprise to anyone. Max.

[ this time, she says his name with such warmth. peggy's relieved. ]

I would like to help out, however. With the leg. And with Aizawa.

[theroadwarrior]

Mhm, I know. Shocking.

[So dry, so self-aware. He gives a nod.]

Um... Appreciate it, though.

Even if Aizawa n' the leg are both a pain to deal with.

[mucked]

He's abrupt. But he means well.

[ which is to say that peggy approves of him, even if she can't always see eye-to-eye with him. he's not inner sanctum -- not exactly. but she trusts him enough to be herself around him. even the colder, harder bits. and that's adequate. ]

[theroadwarrior]

Must be why he annoys me sometimes. Two abrupt people, bound to be trouble.

[Haaa. His hand flutters toward his stitched head.

As always, Peggy comes through. Even with the rough edges.]

... Aahm.

Thanks.

[mucked]

[ -- she gives his shoulder an affectionate and easy squeeze. these touches have become second nature to her. it's good (it's comforting!) to reach out and feel the familiar line of him beneath her palm. he's one of hers; she's one of his. there's no use making a fuss about it. ]

Anytime. [ then, after an odd pause. ] Every time. No matter bloody what.