[ whether 'it' is his incompatibility with discipline or the percentage-jump in mister hunter's frustration, she won't plainly say. both are valid enough. truth is, peggy hasn't been coping so well with authority these last two years. during the war, it had been different. dreadful as it was, circumstances had offered her every chance and opportunity to prove herself. again, and again, and again.
afterwards? well -- coffee carafes and lunch orders. filing and answering phones. all necessary bits and bobs of any organization's continues existence, yes, but so far from her wheelhouse. she'd been selfish in trying to shoulder her way back into danger, perhaps. desperate to recapture old conviction, if not old glory. ]
It was either enlist or stay home. At the time, the choice was -- well. I won't say it was easy. But neither was it difficult.
[ and the thing about discipline is that it's rather easy to stomach when you're the one drilling recruits. or delving behind enemy lines under low-supervision and high-disguise. discipline never chafed her, really, until after the war. she'd had a fine role model in her defiance. ]
And it certainly wasn't the sort of thing I envisioned for myself, either. [ a bob of her head, alluding to some common ground. by all rights, she shouldn't have lasted very long either. ] Wasn't really the done thing, you realize.
I guess I should have. [ realized. ] I felt the same about Rip's offer.
[ he knows a little about making a hard choice because the alternative is unacceptable. when he'd started it all, after anna, he'd envisioned himself looking after starling city. offering free clean energy sources, and putting his money where his mouth was.
the best laid plans, huh? ]
Do you miss it? The-- service, I mean. Not the war, obviously.
[ an easy-ish conclusion to come to, given all the little details she's shared now. ]
[ now, there's a tricky question. and one she certainly doesn't care to answer with anything but a bland attempt. peggy is tempted to lie and tell him what's probably easiest to hear -- that she doesn't miss a moment of it, that the top brass were bastards and the enlisted men were worse and what a fine thing life is in the wake of active service. but it's not true, is it?
she misses parts. she misses many. and, of late, she can't help but look back on those years with a guilty fondness. peggy misses the difference made and the way colonel phillips never minded when she punched out any wanker who opened his gob a bit too wide. ]
Truth is, I still serve. In a manner of speaking. [ ... ] My branch was never disbanded after the war. The only difference is that these days I get to wear something other than olive green.
[ ray thinks he can feel her hesitation. he wants to reassure peggy that it's ok to just say she'd rather not talk about it. but she's only just pointed out her discomfort with how he attempted to make her comfortable before. instead, he nods and prompts her a little more gently. ]
It's the little things?
[ bad jokes. he's here all night! tip your wait staff... ]
[ really, raymond. hard to say whether her nose scrunches up in dismay due to the joke itself or else the notion that he should try for humour in the middle of this dreadfully awkward conversation.
but in another version of this moment it might have been funny. what settles poorly in her gut is that peg, his assistant never minded silly jokes. she would have laughed and she would have meant it. ]
But as we're on the subject, [ she swings things lock-step into order, ] you must have a hell of a time keeping your -- your suit -- out of the hands of the military. Those scavengers will go after just about anything.
[ she would know. one of her earliest substantial missions with the ssr had been to secure erskine from the red skull's fortress. quite apart from it being the right thing to do, she'd known how the allied forces had hungered for any drop of the serum he was rumoured to have developed. ]
[ he manages to look very pleased with himself, but it's not long before it's his turn to scrunch his face up in displeasure. ]
Not military, no. But police, maybe. Eventually. [ he sighs. stupid future. ] Since it's technically proprietary technology of my company's, and I'm technically dead...
[ yeah. he doesn't think about it often-- or, rather, there are usually more pressing issues for him to distract himself with. ]
My brother apparently sells them out as drones at some point in the time line. The vulture.
[ once more, she's met with an onslaught of things that just about barely toe the line of logic. the idea of police maybe eventually comes across as wishy-washy and ridiculous until she remembers the pertinent detail of time travel.
and the rest? well -- peggy delves straight to the heart of it. ]
'Technically' dead?
[ how is she meant to interpret a description like that one? good lord. ]
Oh. Uhh yeah. [ he drags that out while he thinks, and then decides the hell with it. ] When I was developing the suit, I blew myself down.
[ flippant, and matter of fact. for once, ray isn't as forthcoming as he usually is with his own personal details. it had been a hard several months. but he says it like it was simply a few months off the grid, as if he went on vacation and was simply forgotten about for awhile. ]
There was an explosion, but I didn't die. I was just ... small. But, I mean-- got the suit working!
[ aha. so 'technically' dead actually meant 'presumed' dead -- that, at least, she could stomach with a bit more familiarity. not least of all because of a few other stories she's heard, lately, that follow a similar line. but just as he's disinclined to share personal details, she's in no rush to share steve's. ]
And yet you're not small now. [ she observes, flippant in her own way. ] So what happened? Did you not see fit to correct the record?
[ it's a guess -- a good one, she thinks, but one that's made with a tilt of curiosity. there's a fly in this ointment; she needs his clarification, first. ]
[ and if that sounds like something he'd stitch on a pillow, that's because it is. he's not ready to accept that his hero's journey is more self-serving than he wants. because that might mean that someone like thawne, someone ray despises, might be right.
he could've given the city free clean energy. instead, he shrinks down like an idiot and tries to get himself killed every week. ]
I got rescued, and then I got recruited. And we had a megalomaniacal psychopath to save the universe from...
[ -- she wants very badly to ask about it. to ask about everything. from whether he'd like to correct that record now, to any sort of further details about this psychopath. it's a miracle she stops herself, and even then only under the steam of recognizing she's already asked many more questions than she's answered.
ask more, she realizes, and she might as well invite that criticism. and it's a criticism she truly doesn't want to invite.
peggy clears her throat. instead of running headlong into whatever it is he's not quite saying, she tries to route herself a gentler path. ]
Look, [ she begins, ] I don't mean to be pushy -- [ lies ] -- but I can't help but mention you'd said something about there being brownies.
[ peg, dear. you bruised his actual chest with tools.
but he lets her off that particular hook with a head bob over toward the couch. there on the coffee table is a plastic container full of fugdy goodness. ]
Help selfy! There are wheat-free ones wrapped in wax-paper. They're a little fudgier than the ones made with flour.
[ a pump of her eyebrows is all that comment merits. he's not wrong -- she's got a great capacity to be pushier. and maybe (just maybe) she can smooth that instinct over with a bit of chocolate. the full flour ones, of course. peg had enough of that gluten-whatever-free crud during the event.
so she leans over the table, pops the container's lid, and avoids the ever living daylights out of anything wrapped in greaseproof. and maybe just maybe she eats the first one (a narrow corner piece) in one bite.
yes. lovely. cheers.
she'd say something but she's too busy chewing. carry on, raymond -- there's a reprieve from her interrogation while she savours the treat. ]
[ he watches for a moment, until it's clear peggy is going to savor her bribe to the fullest. ray then extricates himself from the interior of his machine and moves to slide the large metal panel back into place with delicate care he doesn't exercise almost anywhere else.
after that, he heads to the corner behind the couch, to a mini fridge. it's probably telling, that he'd rather keep a fridge stocked than simply pull it from the closet, but he makes his way to plop onto the couch with a milk carton in each hand.
once he pulls the corners open and slides one in front of peggy, he reaches for those gluten-free selections and goes to town. ]
[ milk. not that she's anti-dairy by any stretch but -- well, it's simply not the beverage her thoughts leap to when she thinks of what pairing might work best with a bit of sweet.
but she selects a second brownie. and, all at once, this is beginning to feel remarkably similar to their afternoon by the fountain. peggy hesitates on her feet for a moment longer before deigning to take a seat.
-- and not yet a sip of milk. there are some lines of barbarism even she won't cross with a stranger in the room, and drinking out of the carton might be one of them. might be. she hasn't yet decided. it's still up in the air. ]
[ ray takes a bite, and takes a sip. a bite, and a sip. bite. sip. ]
Ooh. More for me.
[ and he reaches right over to steal what miss-too-adult-for-a-classic doesn't want. he's weathered the ribbing and hazing of leonard snart, mick rory, and sara lance. it's only strengthened his resolve to be weird. to be an outsider.
[ hey! now! only a thin sense of decorum stops her from swatting at his hand and informing him she hadn't yet decided whether the offer had passed muster or not. seems it doesn't much matter because, bloody hell, there he goes. peggy watches him with an incredible mix of awe and disgust. ]
The polite thing would have been an offer to put the kettle on.
[ except no. the polite thing would have been her graciously accepting his offer of milk and possibly also not bruising his sternum with his own damn tool box but peggy carter never met a line she didn't want to push.
and she damn well knows it when she takes a bite out of her second brownie. ]
[ he finishes his rudeness and only offers peggy a smile and a shrug that might tap into those 'memories' she's struggling with. ]
The workshop is a do it yourself zone. I mean, anywhere the Legends congregate tends to turn into one anyway. We threw a party at Rip's once. I don't think he knew we were going to...
[ and she's pretty certain that 'helpy selfy' isn't a thing. or a word. or a pair of words. and to think some might claim the british have the gall to make things up. ]
I was at that party. [ which might actually be the most shocking reveal of this entire conversation, because it certainly hadn't been her sort of party. she'd attended by accident. mostly. ] But I don't recall seeing you there.
[ she would have remembered, she thinks. ]
is this too much goof for you lmao i feel like i'm hardcore testing your limits lol
[ to her credit it doesn't take her long to puzzle out his meaning. even without the accompanying stress on the telling word, peggy could have found her way around the implication. one doesn't consider oneself an aficionado of the cryptic crossword without appreciating a phrasal twist or three.
so she nods, puffing out a breath as the realization hits, and fills in the blank: ] You were wearing your suit. Fair enough.
[ she can even imagine how being minuscule and easily missed might improve a social function. lord knows she wasn't there having fun in her own right. ]
It didn't strike me as particularly appropriate leisure wear, however.
[ he tries to keep pushing away from how vulnerable he'd felt that party made them with a shrug. ]
Oh, uhh. You'd be surprised. [ time to start stuffing more food in his face. a bite at least gives him a moment to think about how not to get too serious about his personal post-chronos paranoia. ] Besides, I don't sing or drink, and I didn't want to leave our friend Kara all the chaperone duties.
[ super or not, she deserved a buddy to help her keep on lookout. ]
[ with no milk (and no tea!) peggy's brownie consumption slows. she enjoys what she's eating, yes, but she digs in with a measure or two less of enthusiasm. not least of all because she's back to picking apart the tones and falls in his answers.
not singing? well, that's also fair enough. peggy doesn't carry a tune. but not drinking? well! she doesn't ask. ]
You were on picket duty. [ something also easily deduced; peggy drives straight for it. the suit wasn't for leisure at all and she can remember rip's injury when she'd first met him. ]
[ he nods loosely, working against feeling like his paranoia is suddenly on display. paranoia that he's fought with since arriving, and that one of his closest wonderland friends has advised him to tread carefully. ]
Yeah, I mean. Loud music, lots of drunk people. They all needed to blow off steam, but accidents happen, so.
[ time mom was on duty. totally chill. way normal. nbd. ]
Accidents happen, yes. [ peggy polishes off the end corner of her second brownie before sitting back on the sofa -- thoughtful, and just that little bit calmer than she'd been before. ]
But the mansion itself isn't always the safest location. I arrived in the middle of all that mirror mess -- and I can appreciate a desire to 'man the perimeter' so to speak.
[ she stops just short of expressing gratitude as one of the attendees blowing off steam and therefore under time mom's purview. mostly because she's quite certain such gratitude would stick in her throat -- milk or none. ]
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[ whether 'it' is his incompatibility with discipline or the percentage-jump in mister hunter's frustration, she won't plainly say. both are valid enough. truth is, peggy hasn't been coping so well with authority these last two years. during the war, it had been different. dreadful as it was, circumstances had offered her every chance and opportunity to prove herself. again, and again, and again.
afterwards? well -- coffee carafes and lunch orders. filing and answering phones. all necessary bits and bobs of any organization's continues existence, yes, but so far from her wheelhouse. she'd been selfish in trying to shoulder her way back into danger, perhaps. desperate to recapture old conviction, if not old glory. ]
It was either enlist or stay home. At the time, the choice was -- well. I won't say it was easy. But neither was it difficult.
[ and the thing about discipline is that it's rather easy to stomach when you're the one drilling recruits. or delving behind enemy lines under low-supervision and high-disguise. discipline never chafed her, really, until after the war. she'd had a fine role model in her defiance. ]
And it certainly wasn't the sort of thing I envisioned for myself, either. [ a bob of her head, alluding to some common ground. by all rights, she shouldn't have lasted very long either. ] Wasn't really the done thing, you realize.
[ women in the field. ]
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[ he knows a little about making a hard choice because the alternative is unacceptable. when he'd started it all, after anna, he'd envisioned himself looking after starling city. offering free clean energy sources, and putting his money where his mouth was.
the best laid plans, huh? ]
Do you miss it? The-- service, I mean. Not the war, obviously.
[ an easy-ish conclusion to come to, given all the little details she's shared now. ]
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she misses parts. she misses many. and, of late, she can't help but look back on those years with a guilty fondness. peggy misses the difference made and the way colonel phillips never minded when she punched out any wanker who opened his gob a bit too wide. ]
Truth is, I still serve. In a manner of speaking. [ ... ] My branch was never disbanded after the war. The only difference is that these days I get to wear something other than olive green.
[ so, not an answer at all. ]
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It's the little things?
[ bad jokes. he's here all night! tip your wait staff... ]
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[ really, raymond. hard to say whether her nose scrunches up in dismay due to the joke itself or else the notion that he should try for humour in the middle of this dreadfully awkward conversation.
but in another version of this moment it might have been funny. what settles poorly in her gut is that peg, his assistant never minded silly jokes. she would have laughed and she would have meant it. ]
But as we're on the subject, [ she swings things lock-step into order, ] you must have a hell of a time keeping your -- your suit -- out of the hands of the military. Those scavengers will go after just about anything.
[ she would know. one of her earliest substantial missions with the ssr had been to secure erskine from the red skull's fortress. quite apart from it being the right thing to do, she'd known how the allied forces had hungered for any drop of the serum he was rumoured to have developed. ]
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Not military, no. But police, maybe. Eventually. [ he sighs. stupid future. ] Since it's technically proprietary technology of my company's, and I'm technically dead...
[ yeah. he doesn't think about it often-- or, rather, there are usually more pressing issues for him to distract himself with. ]
My brother apparently sells them out as drones at some point in the time line. The vulture.
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and the rest? well -- peggy delves straight to the heart of it. ]
'Technically' dead?
[ how is she meant to interpret a description like that one? good lord. ]
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Oh. Uhh yeah. [ he drags that out while he thinks, and then decides the hell with it. ] When I was developing the suit, I blew myself down.
[ flippant, and matter of fact. for once, ray isn't as forthcoming as he usually is with his own personal details. it had been a hard several months. but he says it like it was simply a few months off the grid, as if he went on vacation and was simply forgotten about for awhile. ]
There was an explosion, but I didn't die. I was just ... small. But, I mean-- got the suit working!
[ always look on the bright side of life, ok. ]
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And yet you're not small now. [ she observes, flippant in her own way. ] So what happened? Did you not see fit to correct the record?
[ it's a guess -- a good one, she thinks, but one that's made with a tilt of curiosity. there's a fly in this ointment; she needs his clarification, first. ]
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[ and if that sounds like something he'd stitch on a pillow, that's because it is. he's not ready to accept that his hero's journey is more self-serving than he wants. because that might mean that someone like thawne, someone ray despises, might be right.
he could've given the city free clean energy. instead, he shrinks down like an idiot and tries to get himself killed every week. ]
I got rescued, and then I got recruited. And we had a megalomaniacal psychopath to save the universe from...
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[ -- she wants very badly to ask about it. to ask about everything. from whether he'd like to correct that record now, to any sort of further details about this psychopath. it's a miracle she stops herself, and even then only under the steam of recognizing she's already asked many more questions than she's answered.
ask more, she realizes, and she might as well invite that criticism. and it's a criticism she truly doesn't want to invite.
peggy clears her throat. instead of running headlong into whatever it is he's not quite saying, she tries to route herself a gentler path. ]
Look, [ she begins, ] I don't mean to be pushy -- [ lies ] -- but I can't help but mention you'd said something about there being brownies.
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[ peg, dear. you bruised his actual chest with tools.
but he lets her off that particular hook with a head bob over toward the couch. there on the coffee table is a plastic container full of fugdy goodness. ]
Help selfy! There are wheat-free ones wrapped in wax-paper. They're a little fudgier than the ones made with flour.
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so she leans over the table, pops the container's lid, and avoids the ever living daylights out of anything wrapped in greaseproof. and maybe just maybe she eats the first one (a narrow corner piece) in one bite.
yes. lovely. cheers.
she'd say something but she's too busy chewing. carry on, raymond -- there's a reprieve from her interrogation while she savours the treat. ]
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after that, he heads to the corner behind the couch, to a mini fridge. it's probably telling, that he'd rather keep a fridge stocked than simply pull it from the closet, but he makes his way to plop onto the couch with a milk carton in each hand.
once he pulls the corners open and slides one in front of peggy, he reaches for those gluten-free selections and goes to town. ]
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[ milk. not that she's anti-dairy by any stretch but -- well, it's simply not the beverage her thoughts leap to when she thinks of what pairing might work best with a bit of sweet.
but she selects a second brownie. and, all at once, this is beginning to feel remarkably similar to their afternoon by the fountain. peggy hesitates on her feet for a moment longer before deigning to take a seat.
-- and not yet a sip of milk. there are some lines of barbarism even she won't cross with a stranger in the room, and drinking out of the carton might be one of them. might be. she hasn't yet decided. it's still up in the air. ]
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Ooh. More for me.
[ and he reaches right over to steal what miss-too-adult-for-a-classic doesn't want. he's weathered the ribbing and hazing of leonard snart, mick rory, and sara lance. it's only strengthened his resolve to be weird. to be an outsider.
and so he grins and chugs her carton dry. ]
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The polite thing would have been an offer to put the kettle on.
[ except no. the polite thing would have been her graciously accepting his offer of milk and possibly also not bruising his sternum with his own damn tool box but peggy carter never met a line she didn't want to push.
and she damn well knows it when she takes a bite out of her second brownie. ]
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[ he finishes his rudeness and only offers peggy a smile and a shrug that might tap into those 'memories' she's struggling with. ]
The workshop is a do it yourself zone. I mean, anywhere the Legends congregate tends to turn into one anyway. We threw a party at Rip's once. I don't think he knew we were going to...
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I was at that party. [ which might actually be the most shocking reveal of this entire conversation, because it certainly hadn't been her sort of party. she'd attended by accident. mostly. ] But I don't recall seeing you there.
[ she would have remembered, she thinks. ]
is this too much goof for you lmao i feel like i'm hardcore testing your limits lol
like why would he even do that peggy why would he that would be super ridiculous next you're going to say that synergize isn't a word wow ]
I was there, I was just having a little less fun than everyone else.
[ hey did you know that ray palmer doesn't usually get to sport a shit eating grin ]
it's lovely.
so she nods, puffing out a breath as the realization hits, and fills in the blank: ] You were wearing your suit. Fair enough.
[ she can even imagine how being minuscule and easily missed might improve a social function. lord knows she wasn't there having fun in her own right. ]
It didn't strike me as particularly appropriate leisure wear, however.
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Oh, uhh. You'd be surprised. [ time to start stuffing more food in his face. a bite at least gives him a moment to think about how not to get too serious about his personal post-chronos paranoia. ] Besides, I don't sing or drink, and I didn't want to leave our friend Kara all the chaperone duties.
[ super or not, she deserved a buddy to help her keep on lookout. ]
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not singing? well, that's also fair enough. peggy doesn't carry a tune. but not drinking? well! she doesn't ask. ]
You were on picket duty. [ something also easily deduced; peggy drives straight for it. the suit wasn't for leisure at all and she can remember rip's injury when she'd first met him. ]
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Yeah, I mean. Loud music, lots of drunk people. They all needed to blow off steam, but accidents happen, so.
[ time mom was on duty. totally chill. way normal. nbd. ]
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But the mansion itself isn't always the safest location. I arrived in the middle of all that mirror mess -- and I can appreciate a desire to 'man the perimeter' so to speak.
[ she stops just short of expressing gratitude as one of the attendees blowing off steam and therefore under time mom's purview. mostly because she's quite certain such gratitude would stick in her throat -- milk or none. ]
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