[ oh! he's got that scramble to him -- the one howard gets when, she realizes, she inadvertently picks up one of his 'bad babies.' the inventions more liable to explode in her hands rather than do anything useful. surely, fitz can't be that reckless...
but she decides (ha!) to humour him. gently, she lets the tablet settle back in place. he's right enough: although she recognizes binary as binary, she doesn't recognize what it means or how it could be used or much of anything else. just as well. she's not actually here to snoop at his science. ]
I thought we should have a talk. [ and still! she hasn't said hello, or asked how he was, or even what he's working on. her dogged pursuit of the topic says a lot about her own nervousness around it. ] Concerning yesterday.
[ ugh, she hates this. she hates talking. it would be different if he were indeed just a fellow agent, and this were an office, and the mission had been something official and sanctioned. but what's professional about this situation has become braided into the personal. ]
[He gingerly sets the tablet back down, eyes still warily locked onto her hands as he half-expects them to shoot out and touch something else. Is she going to become a friend like Hunter, who comes round to "help" when she's bored?
...Though, truth be told, he misses Hunter quite terribly. Though mostly he misses the Hunter who'll come round with proper beers and yell at football on a Saturday afternoon with him. How many World Cups might have gone by while he's been trapped here?]
Yesterday? Is -- has something happened with Rip? [Does he need to strap a hidden arsenal to her?]
I'm afraid a a lot has happened with Mister Hunter.
[ -- but it's an idle statement, not one intended to call fitz to arms. peggy worries her bottom lip for a moment before she battens down her hatches and bottles up her discomfort. ]
Nothing that warrants any worry. [ not from him, at least, although peggy realizes she doesn't even know where to begin in consoling a man whose spiraling down what must be his third lost cause. ]
Before you left, I told you there would be a follow-up. [ she perches her restless hands on her hips instead. ] This is me, following up.
[It doesn't sound like an idle statement. A flash of adrenaline surges into him, just barely cut short when she assures him that it isn't worth worry. It leaves him with energy that has no focus, and he sits back heavily, fingers returning to his mouth.]
Ah -- right, of course. Is there -- are there other things you'd like me to know?
[ there are things she believes he should know. loops into which he should be invited -- and in inviting him, she almost believes two birds could be knocked out with the same stone. perhaps explaining the finer details of mister hunter's situation might play some small part in the pair of them working together, a possibility she now seriously entertains because it doesn't take 24 hours for her to realize the man who'd returned to wonderland is in desperate need of purpose.
but those loops aren't her loops to widen. she begins to wonder how much she can give away -- just what crumbs she can drop -- that might allow fitz to figure it out on his own. is that betrayal?
[If it was betrayal, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary. Betrayals are part of the routine. Maybe one day, he'll find a place of stability where he won't even cry about it.
But it isn't something he considers, especially not consciously. She's given him no reason to be suspicious that anything is out of the ordinary.]
Oh, is it that late already...?
[He blinks, looking down at the clock display.]
Afternoon already? [That's unexpected.]
Oh, but before we go, I should give you...
[He pushes his seat back from his desk and bends down to rummage through a drawer. His attention is split between tasks; it would be so easy for her to postpone the painful admission as long as she'd like.]
[ it's wrong of her, probably, but she bears witness to his workaholism with a subdued sense of pride. after all -- she hasn't ever seen it as a bad thing to be married to one's job. although a rather darling friend once told her there's meant to be a difference between being an independent woman and being a spinster.
and little over 48 hours later, that friend was cold dead with a bullet between her eyes. ]
Yes?
[ she waits -- patient, biting back a quip along the lines of it isn't even my birthday because, of course, her birthday was rather soon. best not to bring it up. ]
[ she reaches for the lipstick first, uncapping it and twisting the bullet out of its casing. peggy leans in, sniffs the formula, and finds the drug better masked than in the shade she keeps back home. ]
Just as well. Our little interrogation wasn't much of a kissing occasion. Even so, tell Simmons I'm grateful.
[ bright and wry and utterly guileless, it seems, without a hint further. honestly, the colour is perfect. ]
This'll be something else for the 'jewellery box,' I think. Last time someone got their hands on my tactical lipstick, I found myself rather on the wrong end of it.
I've taken that much into consideration, actually. [He shuts the drawer and rises to his feet, up to his tiptoes as he stretches.] Since I've gotten your data on file, I've taken the liberty of keeping it locked to your biological signature. The cap will be stuck for anyone else.
[ it should bother her more than it does, she thinks: her data on file. it isn't the sort of thing she should condone. nor stomach, really, to be discussed so casually. but nor can she argue with results.
peggy caps the lipstick. eyes it, eyes him, and thinks about how many eggs she's put in this basket. ]
Show me. [ she tosses the tube back in his direction. ]
[ oh, come on! it wasn't all that tough of a lob, surely. it's hard to imagine him now as the same stern-faced fellow who'd kept her six just yesterday. but rather than dwell on it, she takes the moment to scrutinize the action. she lets her thoughts play out aloud: ]
One has to wonder whether it isn't somehow more suspicious to own what would appear to be a faulty tube. [ a shake of her head; she's not really complaining, however. ] Although it's not discretion you designed it for so much as safety. It'll do.
[ she rounds the corner of the desk and plucks the lipstick back into her own possession before reaching, instead, for the icer. ] Do you happen to have a spare holster? Mine's occupied.
[ of course, it doesn't look like she's currently wearing a holster. logic dictates that it's under her skirt. ]
[He is absolutely not going to check under her skirt. Or under her anywhere, thanks. Instead, it only compounds how flustered he feels. Doesn't she normally find his work acceptable? Isn't that how he came to be her favorite?? Has she changed her mind somehow?]
-- If the lipstick isn't suitable for your purposes, I can reformat the casing...
[But he's ducking back down to fetch a holster for her. He ought to have gotten her one in the first place, shouldn't he? He must've been letting the favorite comment go to his head and make him sloppy. A stupid mistake. If he falls out of her favor, he deserves to.]
[ did he not hear her? she'd said it'll do. perhaps she needed to reassert herself as someone who doesn't hand out compliments like popcorn at a circus.
for now, she tucks the lipstick into the holster -- snug next to the icer -- and decides she might as well drop the whole thing off at her place before they continue on up to the diner. because that is, of course, where she intends to take him. over the last few months, she's developed a fondness for their aesthetic over the stiff and ornate dining hall. ]
Is there anything about the gun I should be worried about?
[It suits. It's suitable only. After her previous shows of awe, this is probably a polite way to vocalize her disappointment. She hates it. He hasn't been good enough.]
The ICER is calibrated toward a human target. They generally aren't effective against enhanced individuals. Cyborgs aren't stunned for very long. Inhumans are too variable to guarantee a success rate.
[Which might just be another way to disappoint her. She's come to trust him, and this is all he can deliver her?]
[ she flicks her attention to the door -- announcing, in some small way, her intention to leave with him seconds before her feet start moving. peggy runs her thumb along the gun's grip and trusts it's not too presumptive a question. after all, it's fitz who'd shown such amazement over the other pistol's longevity. ]
[ as if carrying nothing more than a fashionable clutch, she tucks both the case and the holster underneath her arm. to try and don the thing, she decides, might ruin the line of her outfit. she's allowed a modicum of vanity, isn't she?
the chatter stays relatively innocuous as they head up one floor and peggy detours, with an almost-apology, to drop her 'gifts' off in her room. it's empty now (thankfully, she thinks) but she leaves fitz outside all the same because she knows rip's abandoned slippers are still stashed somewhere in sight.
but once they're properly on their way to the diner, she veers back into the planned conversation. ]
I hope you didn't feel too...prop-like. Yesterday. It wasn't my intention. The strategy sort of sewed itself together on the fly and there wasn't much time to explain it.
[The walk is pleasant enough to be manageable, though it makes Fitz curious about what sort of debriefing might come from this. He waits patiently when instructed, holding back his questions until it seems like they'd be more welcome.]
Sometimes it's the nature of the occupation to perform as a prop. I trusted that your way would work effectively.
[ it's not the trust she doubts -- he's proven that well enough. it's his acceptance of what it might have entailed. ]
Had I been in your position, I'm not convinced I would be so understanding. [ because she'd been projecting some of her own hang-ups onto him -- blindly, maybe, only to just now learn that they're not quite so galling in his eyes. ]
[ it did go smoothly. and perhaps that's what bothers her most -- that she'd gotten away with it, that she had her lover back, that the shield agent whose shoulder she'd tapped to help her untangle the problem remained such a font of sympathy.
her tongue clucks while the round the corner, start down the hall that will eventually bring them to the diner. ]
I find I'm not proud for having made use of Captain Rogers's fate in that fashion. [ and maybe that's the real problem. she and fitz had first found their feet with one another discussing steve -- sitting across from one another in that cursed little ski lodge. peggy doesn't often care about someone else's perception, but she does care about how this particular strategy might reflect on her.
and then there's the part of her scrambling -- hungry -- to ask whether or not he'd lied like she'd wanted him to. when in reality she knows she's better off if she doesn't know. ]
No. [ well, maybe, yes, a bit. there's an uncomfortable and greedy squirm in her gut at the thought of holding onto a bit of real intel. peggy's cheeks puff. her voice drops to a near-whisper while they walk through the door. ] What upsets me is doing the very thing I can't stomach everyone else doing: capitalizing on him.
[ and in such a vicious way, although the real depth of it hasn't yet been revealed to fitz. to do so, she'd have to explain the whole time travel malarkey. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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but she decides (ha!) to humour him. gently, she lets the tablet settle back in place. he's right enough: although she recognizes binary as binary, she doesn't recognize what it means or how it could be used or much of anything else. just as well. she's not actually here to snoop at his science. ]
I thought we should have a talk. [ and still! she hasn't said hello, or asked how he was, or even what he's working on. her dogged pursuit of the topic says a lot about her own nervousness around it. ] Concerning yesterday.
[ ugh, she hates this. she hates talking. it would be different if he were indeed just a fellow agent, and this were an office, and the mission had been something official and sanctioned. but what's professional about this situation has become braided into the personal. ]
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...Though, truth be told, he misses Hunter quite terribly. Though mostly he misses the Hunter who'll come round with proper beers and yell at football on a Saturday afternoon with him. How many World Cups might have gone by while he's been trapped here?]
Yesterday? Is -- has something happened with Rip? [Does he need to strap a hidden arsenal to her?]
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[ -- but it's an idle statement, not one intended to call fitz to arms. peggy worries her bottom lip for a moment before she battens down her hatches and bottles up her discomfort. ]
Nothing that warrants any worry. [ not from him, at least, although peggy realizes she doesn't even know where to begin in consoling a man whose spiraling down what must be his third lost cause. ]
Before you left, I told you there would be a follow-up. [ she perches her restless hands on her hips instead. ] This is me, following up.
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Ah -- right, of course. Is there -- are there other things you'd like me to know?
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but those loops aren't her loops to widen. she begins to wonder how much she can give away -- just what crumbs she can drop -- that might allow fitz to figure it out on his own. is that betrayal?
for now, peggy takes the coward's detour: ]
Possibly. First, have you had lunch yet?
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But it isn't something he considers, especially not consciously. She's given him no reason to be suspicious that anything is out of the ordinary.]
Oh, is it that late already...?
[He blinks, looking down at the clock display.]
Afternoon already? [That's unexpected.]
Oh, but before we go, I should give you...
[He pushes his seat back from his desk and bends down to rummage through a drawer. His attention is split between tasks; it would be so easy for her to postpone the painful admission as long as she'd like.]
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and little over 48 hours later, that friend was cold dead with a bullet between her eyes. ]
Yes?
[ she waits -- patient, biting back a quip along the lines of it isn't even my birthday because, of course, her birthday was rather soon. best not to bring it up. ]
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[He slides a tube of dark red lipstick onto the table, and follows it up with a spare ICER from the same place.]
We'd finished it on Sunday. It just needed time to set.
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Just as well. Our little interrogation wasn't much of a kissing occasion. Even so, tell Simmons I'm grateful.
[ bright and wry and utterly guileless, it seems, without a hint further. honestly, the colour is perfect. ]
This'll be something else for the 'jewellery box,' I think. Last time someone got their hands on my tactical lipstick, I found myself rather on the wrong end of it.
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[It's for Peggy. Why would anyone else need it?]
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peggy caps the lipstick. eyes it, eyes him, and thinks about how many eggs she's put in this basket. ]
Show me. [ she tosses the tube back in his direction. ]
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He tries to catch it. It hits his fingers mostly, which he tries to transition into a reasonable grasp.] Oh -- I...
[He fumbles and stammers a bit more, and nearly loses it entirely, but keeps it from hitting the floor at least.
Flawless.]
It's. You want me to...?
[He'll give the cap a tentative twist, but it remains locked in place. Doesn't she take his word for things like this??]
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One has to wonder whether it isn't somehow more suspicious to own what would appear to be a faulty tube. [ a shake of her head; she's not really complaining, however. ] Although it's not discretion you designed it for so much as safety. It'll do.
[ she rounds the corner of the desk and plucks the lipstick back into her own possession before reaching, instead, for the icer. ] Do you happen to have a spare holster? Mine's occupied.
[ of course, it doesn't look like she's currently wearing a holster. logic dictates that it's under her skirt. ]
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-- If the lipstick isn't suitable for your purposes, I can reformat the casing...
[But he's ducking back down to fetch a holster for her. He ought to have gotten her one in the first place, shouldn't he? He must've been letting the favorite comment go to his head and make him sloppy. A stupid mistake. If he falls out of her favor, he deserves to.]
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[ did he not hear her? she'd said it'll do. perhaps she needed to reassert herself as someone who doesn't hand out compliments like popcorn at a circus.
for now, she tucks the lipstick into the holster -- snug next to the icer -- and decides she might as well drop the whole thing off at her place before they continue on up to the diner. because that is, of course, where she intends to take him. over the last few months, she's developed a fondness for their aesthetic over the stiff and ornate dining hall. ]
Is there anything about the gun I should be worried about?
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The ICER is calibrated toward a human target. They generally aren't effective against enhanced individuals. Cyborgs aren't stunned for very long. Inhumans are too variable to guarantee a success rate.
[Which might just be another way to disappoint her. She's come to trust him, and this is all he can deliver her?]
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[ she flicks her attention to the door -- announcing, in some small way, her intention to leave with him seconds before her feet start moving. peggy runs her thumb along the gun's grip and trusts it's not too presumptive a question. after all, it's fitz who'd shown such amazement over the other pistol's longevity. ]
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[He'll provide a small case, about the size of a cigar box, and fall into step behind Peggy. He's perfectly content to let her lead.]
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the chatter stays relatively innocuous as they head up one floor and peggy detours, with an almost-apology, to drop her 'gifts' off in her room. it's empty now (thankfully, she thinks) but she leaves fitz outside all the same because she knows rip's abandoned slippers are still stashed somewhere in sight.
but once they're properly on their way to the diner, she veers back into the planned conversation. ]
I hope you didn't feel too...prop-like. Yesterday. It wasn't my intention. The strategy sort of sewed itself together on the fly and there wasn't much time to explain it.
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Sometimes it's the nature of the occupation to perform as a prop. I trusted that your way would work effectively.
[And it did. So what's the problem?]
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[ it's not the trust she doubts -- he's proven that well enough. it's his acceptance of what it might have entailed. ]
Had I been in your position, I'm not convinced I would be so understanding. [ because she'd been projecting some of her own hang-ups onto him -- blindly, maybe, only to just now learn that they're not quite so galling in his eyes. ]
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[ his brows knit together at that. ]
Ma'am, is there an implication to which I'm not aware? I was under the impression that yesterday went quite smoothly.
[ nobody got hurt. Nobody died. There was just the one kidnapping, and even that didn't last long. ]
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her tongue clucks while the round the corner, start down the hall that will eventually bring them to the diner. ]
I find I'm not proud for having made use of Captain Rogers's fate in that fashion. [ and maybe that's the real problem. she and fitz had first found their feet with one another discussing steve -- sitting across from one another in that cursed little ski lodge. peggy doesn't often care about someone else's perception, but she does care about how this particular strategy might reflect on her.
and then there's the part of her scrambling -- hungry -- to ask whether or not he'd lied like she'd wanted him to. when in reality she knows she's better off if she doesn't know. ]
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You're... Upset about receiving a false set of coordinates?
[He's so lost. What's the problem? Is this code for a problem? Should he be interpreting the nouns differently?]
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No. [ well, maybe, yes, a bit. there's an uncomfortable and greedy squirm in her gut at the thought of holding onto a bit of real intel. peggy's cheeks puff. her voice drops to a near-whisper while they walk through the door. ] What upsets me is doing the very thing I can't stomach everyone else doing: capitalizing on him.
[ and in such a vicious way, although the real depth of it hasn't yet been revealed to fitz. to do so, she'd have to explain the whole time travel malarkey. ]
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