Open/Mingle - Roll Call.

[collegedropout]

Who: Sam, and you, and anyone; tis a mingle of sorts.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: SS Bloodsport, if you wanna find him.
When: After the planet is struck - Sept 22nd.

Note: Feel free to tag each other and inform everyone of whatever you need to, post-planetary explosion! I'll tag here and there, but consider it more of a mingle for people to touch bases about casualities and making sure people know they're okay (or if someone's injured.)

[Sam sits, triumphant in their mission but also defeated in spirit. Because yeah, they got the ship off the planet, and there's a whole civilization of people who get out of there... but he also is already too aware there is at least one fatality on their end already. Looma's last broadcast had been expected, especially after she'd sent him a warning beacon as the meteor pressed down into the planet's atmosphere, speeding, ready to smash the thing to pieces without effort.

Looma at least faced her death as one would expect, for her people. He imagines they would be proud.

Still, he sounds deflated at the thought, as he speaks a more leveled and straightforward response:]


... We've lost Captain Looma, of the SS Bishop. Umm... for what it's worth, she did it on her terms. I'm sorry.


[He's carried out the task of divvying up the blood from the blood drive, in case anyone from any particular ship needs it; there've been some injuries from shrapnel and citizen unrest, he's pretty sure. That's about all he can do, now, other than check in on the gardens... make sure Fie's work is continued alongside her, because it's important to keep those plants alive and thriving.

He slumps a little in weariness, sighing at his desk where he sits on the SS Bloodsport.]


... Role call?


Who's, um. Who's missing?

Comments

[mucked]

Sleep. Read. Eat, if you like. I don't bloody care as long as you do it off your feet.

[ -- or she does care. she cares a great deal. and she's hiding it underneath that gruff bit of captaincy. ]

[uprightness]

Right.

[ how very rare it is that he offers no argument at all. Maybe he's just that tired or perhaps he knows Peggy has enough to deal with even without his stubbornness.

So he's being very good about it all. He reaches for her hand and holds it tightly for a moment. It's mostly worry and relief, she's okay, he's okay. They've seen this one through. ]

An hour.

[mucked]

[ it's enough to make her suspicious, although she does her best to quiet that thought. she knows better than to meet every blip and alteration with doubt. still, her eyes widen a moment when she takes his hand.

she offers a squeeze. ]

You might need a bit of supervising, I suppose. Someone to make certain you're taking the full hour. As directed.

[uprightness]

[ heaven help him, he manages to smile. ]

I hope you're talking about yourself because I feel very uncomfortable thinking of someone else staring at me while I'm trying to rest.

[ imagine the horror. ]

[mucked]

I was considering deputizing Jarvis. [ she teases -- reaching up to give his jawline an affectionate pat. ] He makes for a very attentive nursemaid. I can assure you.

[uprightness]

I'll have to pass on that. I don't need nursing.

[ though for a moment he looks pleasantly distracted, his smile becomes a bit far-off. he does think about nursing though jarvis has little to do with it. ]

You said supervising.

[ he reminds her, tugging on her hand, leading her away. ]

I don't know a better supervisor.

[mucked]

[ steve rogers! she's come to know that look -- reading between his smile and his eyes. a flush of daydream, and one she jolts out of him with a scoff. ]

You're right. For once. I said supervising. [ she lingers a moment -- but first extricates her hand from his so she can collect up max's jacket from where it's draped on the chair. she folds it over her arm -- reverent. ]

-- Give us a moment.

[uprightness]

For once?

[ honestly, now. but he nods, he doesn't say much of it. perhaps there's no need to say anything. this isn't like the war but in so many ways, it is. it's those experiences that make understanding easy. ]

I'm going to find some ice.

[ for the annoying bruise at the side of his head. he might not really need it but it's a good excuse for something to do. ]

[mucked]

[ she twists her fingers in the jacket's sleeves. how funny it is to be possessive of something that was never hers -- something she'd rarely so much as touched, really, because it's always always always been so guarded by its owner. ]

-- I'll meet you back at ours?

[ our room. ]

[uprightness]

Sounds good.

[ he reaches out, covers her palm for a moment longer before retreating to form himself a kind of a make-do ice pack. some of those last minute efforts have taken their toll. he wraps ice cubes in a towel and presses it to his cheekbone.

he takes his time. thank heaven, they have time yet again. ]

[mucked]

[ she attempts to leave the coat in max's room. funnily enough, it's never felt like max's room. and with his shuttle just as mia as he is, she can't leave it there instead. but nothing about the room feels right. she leaves it on his bed, the back of a chair, folded in a foot-locker. and despite all her efforts she winds up keeping the thing -- dragging it back to the captain's room.

when steve arrives, it's hanging off the closet door. a dreadful little memento mori. she herself is inside one of the walk-in closets. fussing. ]

[uprightness]

[ he sees the jacket first.

steve looks at it and frowns. he fears the worst, he knows by now peggy's worries are worse than his. they might have already turned into simply knowing something went horribly, horribly wrong.

he hopes to god they're both wrong.

he leans against the closet door, watching her. he doesn't say much. there's not a lot to say. ]

[mucked]

[ it's not much, really. hanging up a flamingo-print blouse (mmhm) and nudging a few other items aside. trying to keep busy when there's not much left to accomplish outside of leaving the ship -- something she's not yet prepared to do.

but then there's steve. the creak of the door gives him away. she turns -- nodding. ]

There's no better place for it. [ she speaks of the jacket without introducing it. ] You don't mind, do you?

[uprightness]

Not one bit.

[ quietly, honestly. she keeps busy. he can appreciate it. hell, it's all he's been doing since the ice. keeping busy - bigger things, smaller things, it didn't matter. he removes his own jacket and reaches for a hanger.

it's hard to know who's watching over whom. ]

[mucked]

[ she eyes him -- the ice, the care, the whole scene of it. and her lips press together with a suppressed frown. ]

He doesn't let other people have it. It's -- he wouldn't hand it off to just anyone. [ which is an odd thought, maybe, until peggy finally explains what's been vexing her: ] I found it on a child. One of the refugees, evacuated from the planet.

[uprightness]

[ he nods. he sees the implication, understands what isn't being said. steve places the folded shirt back in place and leans back against the door. ]

I'm sure he'll tell us how that happened. Maybe there's a story there.

[ once he's back. steve damn well hopes he'll be back.

he doesn't actually knows much about the procedure. ]

[mucked]

...We'll be lucky if he gives us more than a grunt.

[ peggy closes the gap of space between them -- reaching up to take over the ice pack. ]

[uprightness]

He usually gives you more than that.

[ he hands over the ice pack without too much of a fuss, leaning down so she could have an easier time reaching his brow. he and max get along in fewer words. steve never had any sway over the man.

peggy, on the other hand. ]

that's pretty much well-known.

[mucked]

We fought. [ she tells him, easing steve backward so he can take a seat on the bed's edge and she can apply the compress with a beguilingly ginger touch. ] While you were out of it for those three weeks. He and I fought and I said some dreadful things.

[ she's apologized, since. a real and sincere apology. but things still haven't felt right -- she carries the guilt, now. ]

I've never seen his parallel for survival, you know. If something happened to him, it must have been -- [ she doesn't want to say intentional but... ] It must have been something damn worthwhile.

[uprightness]

People fight.

[ steve says, angling his head towards the ice pack and taking a seat. he's exhausted, yes, aching, sure but also worried for her sake. ]

People forgive, too.

[ his palm covers hers over the ice pack. ]

We're going to get him back and I know you're not going to let him grunt at you.

[mucked]

[ it's good to have a focal point. somewhere to steady her attention and her nervous energy -- and just now that focal point is the place where their hands both prop up the ice pack. step by step, she's grown strangely accustomed to little moments like these wherein she's permitted to tend to his well-being in a way she'd never anticipated.

not during the war. certainly not after it. but now, it's beginning to feel natural. so much so that she leans in and touches a kiss to his brow. ]

Did you know he was the dog? Earlier this month. The stray who wouldn't leave the room...

[uprightness]

Was he?

[ it's not a huge surprise. atroma had pulled odder things and in retrospect, steve thinks he might have known. only he was too focused in his own worry and grief to see what was right there before him. ]

Bummer. we could have used our own pet.

[ he comments, only to make her smile, really. ]

[mucked]

He was in our bed, Steve. Our bed! [ horrified, actually. ] I scratched his belly. There are some interactions you simply can't live down.

[ but it works. she smiles -- slow and with a dash of teeth. she's quick to shake it away and clear her throat. ]

[uprightness]

The first bit's gotta be weirder to him.

[ he comments and not without a shade of a grin. this might be the first time that he's even referred to their intimate life with an aroma of humor. ]

besides, it'll give you something to discuss when he gets back. I think it's a good thing, really.

[mucked]

'Something to discuss,' really? [ peggy shakes her head. ] I'm afraid that's a terrible optimistic take on our friendship. We don't discuss things. Him and me. We sort of...stay and grumble within the same vicinity.

[ she brushes hair back from his temple, curling the longer bits around her fingertips. ]

...But he did make for a very sweet mutt.

[ and don't you dare tell anyone she said so, steve rogers. ]