[ until late morphs into gone, she'd thought. and there, just there, she very nearly betrays a fissure in all her carefully constructed righteousness. because he'd been worried, worried for her, and she's gone and spat all over that worry -- the same breed that had brought her to his hallway when their worst memories were playing on loops.
(god above, is tony right? peggy's eyes dart off rip, only briefly, while she considers whether all this running around isn't somehow juvenile. beneath them both. but then she remembers her 'dark side' and how deeply every claim cut...)
look at his disappointment, she tells herself. she invited it upon him when she underestimated his friendship. she saw it as something not serious enough to rate a check-in, nothing so much as a simple not tonight, mister hunter, when he'd rung her up. all because she turns coward when it comes to pursuing the authentic, the real, the whole. the good. ever since steve...
god! and it's not even about romance. not really, although the first spark of fear found itself lit somewhere near that tender, still-stinging place left behind in her heart. she'd started back-peddling before the event. after they'd danced. what her shadow said only encouraged her.
and maybe he realized it then, but he's only taking her to task for it now. drunk and angry and sitting in the rubble of his routine to which she'd laid waste. ]
You're right. [ too easy, too generous, wait for the other shoe to drop. ] You never did ask me here, not once, not ever. That's on me. I'm the one who showed up at your door. Exactly.
[ she breathes in, offering a small shake of her head while she echoes his words back at him. ]
Let's add it to my very long list of poor choices and bad calls, shall we? [ ah, there it is. there's a sort of look in her eye, as though she's daring him to be anything but livid. anything but hopping mad. challenging him to do anything but throw her out and tell her she may as well never come back. she'd rather see him angry than worried.
less concerned; more cross. it would do wonders for her guilty conscience. ]
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(god above, is tony right? peggy's eyes dart off rip, only briefly, while she considers whether all this running around isn't somehow juvenile. beneath them both. but then she remembers her 'dark side' and how deeply every claim cut...)
look at his disappointment, she tells herself. she invited it upon him when she underestimated his friendship. she saw it as something not serious enough to rate a check-in, nothing so much as a simple not tonight, mister hunter, when he'd rung her up. all because she turns coward when it comes to pursuing the authentic, the real, the whole. the good. ever since steve...
god! and it's not even about romance. not really, although the first spark of fear found itself lit somewhere near that tender, still-stinging place left behind in her heart. she'd started back-peddling before the event. after they'd danced. what her shadow said only encouraged her.
and maybe he realized it then, but he's only taking her to task for it now. drunk and angry and sitting in the rubble of his routine to which she'd laid waste. ]
You're right. [ too easy, too generous, wait for the other shoe to drop. ] You never did ask me here, not once, not ever. That's on me. I'm the one who showed up at your door. Exactly.
[ she breathes in, offering a small shake of her head while she echoes his words back at him. ]
Let's add it to my very long list of poor choices and bad calls, shall we? [ ah, there it is. there's a sort of look in her eye, as though she's daring him to be anything but livid. anything but hopping mad. challenging him to do anything but throw her out and tell her she may as well never come back. she'd rather see him angry than worried.
less concerned; more cross. it would do wonders for her guilty conscience. ]