[Now this, this leads them down a curious path. She seems confident of herself, her decision, and that's all well and good. Yet Peggy doesn't stop there; she assumes that in the end Rip would have opted for the same, to end whatever nebulous thing that has somehow taken root between them before it has a chance to see the light of day. And perhaps he would. Perhaps, if he were to think it through, he would realize all the ways that such a pursuit might be a terrible idea. The nature of Wonderland, constantly in flux, the constant threat of either of them being sent home.
Steve returning, untethered to anyone. Miranda, showing up alive and well and eager to see her husband.
But he has not been forced to think it through, nor to decide for himself just what he might do with the knowledge that she's developed feelings for him--and likewise, he must admit, he for her. Instead Rip is given an odd position on the high ground when Peggy so cavalierly spells out her expectations. And suddenly it doesn't matter so much if she's right.
Not when Rip is feeling far more contrary than charitable.
Besides, with the decision made, what harm is there in hypotheticals?]
And why exactly would you expect me to reject you? [Oh, but this sparks a memory for him. A voice sounding out from a broken porcelain face, marred with lipstick too deep a shade of red. They use her, they die--
Or they reject her.]
Bloody hell! [Rip rises to his feet, hand lifted in the air as this revelation crashes in his mind. Perhaps it's not the brightest move, but placing his other palm on the couch ensures his balance is kept.] This is about the bloody shadow, isn't it?
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Steve returning, untethered to anyone. Miranda, showing up alive and well and eager to see her husband.
But he has not been forced to think it through, nor to decide for himself just what he might do with the knowledge that she's developed feelings for him--and likewise, he must admit, he for her. Instead Rip is given an odd position on the high ground when Peggy so cavalierly spells out her expectations. And suddenly it doesn't matter so much if she's right.
Not when Rip is feeling far more contrary than charitable.
Besides, with the decision made, what harm is there in hypotheticals?]
And why exactly would you expect me to reject you? [Oh, but this sparks a memory for him. A voice sounding out from a broken porcelain face, marred with lipstick too deep a shade of red. They use her, they die--
Or they reject her.]
Bloody hell! [Rip rises to his feet, hand lifted in the air as this revelation crashes in his mind. Perhaps it's not the brightest move, but placing his other palm on the couch ensures his balance is kept.] This is about the bloody shadow, isn't it?