12630/Jet Lag, Time Lag

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Jet Lag, Time Lag
Date of Scene: 09 January 2021
Location: Recreation Room, The Triskelion
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Peggy Carter, Captain America




Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peg isn't certain just what time it is right now, she knows she gave up trying to sleep around 2 am and wondered out into the recreational area just for simply a different point of sleepless view. That was a while ago and she's now currently curled into the corner of one of the big couches, a proper, paperback book in her hand. She's got a mostly neglected mug of tea in front of her and is wearing a long, black satin night robe with splashes of flamingos all over it. It's an old fashioned piece, maybe even properly vintage, but it's comfortable and very much her.

With her hair up in pin curls for the night, Peggy Carter is barely recognizable as the once-director of SHIELD. She's even without make up, making her look somehow more raw and younger than the 30-something years her face seems frozen within. Closer to her looks when they first met.

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers had spent an evening helping to fight a fire in Brooklyn, pulling civilians out of harm's way. He had a few minor burns on his shoulders and neck, enough that he had to check in with the medic when he came in. He caught sight of a suspected Hydra agent at the site of the fire and came to the Triskelion to confirm his suspicions and check any other faces associated to see if there might've been more on the scene.

Eventually, though, his eyes burned from looking at the screen too long and he came down to get a bit of a snack for himself, only to find a familiar face - albeit perhaps a bit more casual than he'd seen her almost ever. He himself is wearing a pair of khakis and a white t-shirt stretched over his formidable musculature. "Glad to see I'm not the only one going late tonight."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The sound of someone else coming into the room immediately gets her notice. Even in this highly secured base, old habits die hard and paranoia is a way of life for a spy as old as her. Dark eyes jerk up from her book warily towards the door as she times those footfalls. Almost before he even makes it across the threshold, does she realize who it is. She'd know those steps almost anywhere. A slightly strange, almost embarrassed smile crosses her features as she debates between hiding back into the couch so he might not see her like this, or catching up with the man she still cannot figure out how to converse with. Emotions are not in her stiff upper lip, British perview. There were a lot of emotions still in the air here.

Fortunately, he makes the decision for her, even as she's watched him across the room for several silent heartbeats. Her smile goes from a little embarrassed to quietly warm. While he's never really seen her sleepless in proper night ware, they've certainly spent sleepless nights together before. "...not exactly sneaking the last smoke on the back of the convoy late night but... yes. Couldn't quite sleep. Decided my ceiling was getting boring to stare at. You still on clean up from that Brooklyn mess?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers allows a brief frown to cross his features, "Unfortunately, yes. I think I've identified a couple of accomplices. Not just sure what they were after. Don't get me wrong, Hydra's certainly not above random mayhem, but it's more likely they had a specific purpose or target for the fire. I just can't figure out what yet. All the residents seem to be ordinary folks just living their lives. Of course, appearances can be deceiving," he says. He retrieves a couple of donuts leftover from morning meetings, a little stale but he's not one to let food go to waste. He lived through the Depression, after all.

He takes a seat across from Peggy and allows himself to stare for a moment. "Still kind of hard to believe you're here, I have to be honest. Might not have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. How're you holding up?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
As he mentions the struggle with identifying things, something changes on Peggy's features. There's not surprise, but a certain level of wariness that wasn't there before. She sits up a little straighter and puts her book aside, asking quietly, "You were using the computers here to do all the research, right?" She has a level of casualness to that question that, to anyone else, might seem like she's just making small talk. But, if Steve remembers anything about her, that's purposefully blaise`. She's hit on something that's bringing her eyes far too alive and awake for this time of the night.

Then he's moving on to settling across fro her. Asking about old things, staring like that. She can't really help but stare a bit herself. Some nights he didn't seem real. "Mm. I could say the same to you, you know? I thought for *certain* I'd...died, or been hallucinating, when I saw you there. You're right, that it doesn't seem... Real. And I'm fine. I'm alive and well... What is there to complain about?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers drinks a glass of milk with his donut. That's right, milk. Caffeine doesn't do much for him anyway. "Yes, although the sophistication of the computers here actually makes it easier for me. I can use voice commands. The menus are dumbed down to touchscreens for me. I still needed a tech to at least set me up and log me in," he sighs. "I'm getting better at that stuff, but it's an uphill climb. I still have an analog watch."

"The only complaint I have is pipe dreams. The world will never be entirely safe. I think we tried to fool ourselves into that back in the war, the idea that we could defeat evil once and for all. But evil lingers. It doesn't get stamped out with a single boot. And it's always able to burrow its way underground."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A bittersweet smile cuts across her pale features as he mentions the pipe dreams. Dark eyes abruptly fall away from him, so he can't see the flare of anger and self blame that immediately comes behind it all. She scoops up her cold tea, something easier to look at than his handsome face.

A slight shake comes to her head. "I keep wondering...how I missed so much. You... You did everything you could. You nearly gave everything. I thought you *had*. I had another thirty years of cleaning and hunting to do. I still... didn't manage it. There's no excuse. But no, you are right...here we are."

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers purses his lips and looks stern for a moment, "Don't you go blaming yourself for anything. You gave as much as I did. More, because you had more time. It isn't hard to choose to die when the cause is right. I didn't have any doubts or any regrets when I went down with that bomb. Well. Maybe one," he says, looking into her eyes for a moment and then allowing himself to look away.

"We're not done yet, you and I. We may not be able to get all of them. But we'll get a lot. And if we do our job well, we'll put the fear of God in the rest," He grins.

Peggy Carter has posed:
When she feels his eyes about that one regret, her dark gaze flickers back up, daring to meet his gaze for just a heartbeat. Oh. Then he's looking away and she straightens up a bit more, clearing her throat. Hopefully he misses the faint heat that's rising on her cheeks, but it's most certainly there. Not many people in the world could make Peggy blush, but the one that can is sitting right here, alive and well.

She takes one last sip of her too-cold tea and then, slightly abruptly, sets it down. She then pulls her legs down, sitting up straighter. "Let's get out of here. Go to one of those diners. I'm certain something is still open. I'd drag you back across the bridge to one in Brooklyn, but I suspect you've had enough of your hometown for tonight. We're both awake. let's just...Go."

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers smiles, "You mean ignore the security protocols, shed our tracking devices and just go out in the world as Steve and Peggy? Just so happens I do know a good diner that's open all night. Pretty fond of their biscuits and gravy, too. I'll always be a Yankee at heart, but I do envy Southern cooking," he says. He hops up and offers his hand to help her out of her seat.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I mean, I might bring a gun because old habits die hard. But yes. If we're going to be up at this unholy hour, we might as well break a few rules." Peggy accepts his hand, smoothly slipping up out of the couch. She's certainly in fighting condition for a woman near 100 years old. Her hand lingers in his probably a moment too long before she lets her fingertips drop away and she dares a smile. "Let me change and I'll meet you outside in 5 minutes? We can even take that bike of yours, if this place is a bit of a jaunt. I'll dress warm."

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers nods, "Seems to me you and I ought to have the seniority to break any rule they please. Worst case scenario, we'll get a few demerits and end up in detention. I never got put in detention as a kid. Too much of a goody two shoes. I guess you've corrupted me a little bit," he says with a wink.

Five minutes later, he's downstairs, the only real change being the USA hooded jacket he wears, zipped up tight, a pair of gloves to keep the chill at bay and his blonde hair tucked up under a took. He has his bike warmed up already, exhaust steamig from the back.

Peggy Carter has posed:
About 7 minutes later, after all, she did have to totally change, Peggy's double timing it out of the Triskelion into the chill of the crisp winter air. She's in an old fashioned, 1940s style jump suit. Wide palazzo pants legs, fitted well to her hour glass waist, and a button up two toned front that compliments the dark rust color with a deep teal. She's got her own leather bomber jacket over it, very possibly the one Steve knew her in all those years ago.

Seeing him there against that bike, her brows arch and she cannot help but smile a little wider. "You're a kid from Brooklyn who rides a motorcycle. I don't think I am *exactly* the corrupting influence in your life. in face, I have some good memories of you telling upper command to sod off more than once." She grins as she swings onto the bike behind him.

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers shrugs, "Sometimes the view from up high makes it hard to see the things that are important. They get caught up in the big picture and forget that it's made up of a lot of smaller ones," he says.

He takes his place on the bike and feels her settle in behind him, "Hold on tight now," he says, "I'll try not to let you get hit by too many bugs. Hate to tarnish your outfit," he grins.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I suspect I needed that reminder some days too..." After all, she was director for over twenty years. Peggy had turned into the brass they all argued with, after so long. But she doesn't fret over it too much now. Instead, she settles down to tuck in against his back. "Rogers, we managed bullets for how many years? I think I can handle a few bugs." She mutters into the side of his neck, but still remains tucked there. She's more enjoying the shield of warmth he is than worrying about the cold night or seeing the city. She trusts where he's taking them. She also breathes in deep against him. It's hard to convince her mind he's not real. He's *there*. His smell hasn't really changed. It's absolutely *Him*.

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers doesn't talk on the ride, because there's no real need. The motor is roaring and the wind is flying past them and it's almost like the old days, hitting the backroads of France in the wake of D-Day, pushing deeper into enemy territory and rooting out obstacles and traps laid for them by the Nazi menace. Except New York City swallowed them up quickly and he finds himself going around until he's heading towards that same small diner, this one on the edge of Queens. A place called SLAPPY'S.

"They mean it, too. You sass that waitress and she'll make your cheek red," he grins.

Peggy Carter has posed:
When they finally get to the place, Peggy pulls back enough to see the name and arches a single brow. "...you Americans really have no sense of decorum, do you?" Peg mutters dryly, but he might sense the warm edge of tease beneath her voice. She kicks off of the bike and scrambles inside with him, rubbing her hands together in efforts to return sensation. She might have something in her that makes her a little different than average, but she's definitely not a super human.

She follows him towards a back booth, nodding to the waitress, "Might we take that one, miss?" She asks with full respect in her voice for the woman. It's also the booth in the farthest corner, secured on three sides. Somewhere she can keep an eye on the whole place. "And I'd never sass her. I know respect, unlike some of you.'

Captain America has posed:
Steve Rogers shakes his head, "We got rid of decorum when we kicked you redcoats out. Since then, it's been all beer and sausage gravy and feet on the table," he jokes. He receives a bright greeting from the waitress, who does look a little askance at Peggy if only because Steve usually makes his late night jaunts here alone, with nothing but a sketchbook to keep him company.

"No one would ever disrespect you, I'm sure, Peggy. Not if they want to keep their joints in their sockets."