directed | IC Inbox - Entranceway

Entry tags:

!entranceway

IC Inbox - Entranceway

Obviously I'm not here right now, but leave a message and I'll--listen to it. Eventually.

[ here they are at last -- circled 'round to the things they should have discussed last night, before she kissed him. before, peggy realizes, she'd simply walked out on their partnership and left him to stew alone. maybe it's something that should have been discussed that first wednesday after ray and sarah's wedding, but they'd both managed to distract each other rather soundly with work and...

work. that's a decent avenue with which to begin. ]

It'll make for a far quicker conversation if I tell you what I don't want.

[ and peggy takes another (rough) gulp of tea before reaching forward. she snags her notes off the coffee table, where they'd been sitting since last night. her mug is exchanged for the book. it only takes her a moment to flip through and see what sort of progress he's made through her codes and ciphers. ]

For one, I rather enjoy working alongside you. [ it's not easy for her to say it, but his perspectives and his strengths settle well alongside hers. professionally speaking, they're compatible. and peggy finds him far more palatable to work with than many of her colleagues at the ssr back home. ] And what I don't want to do, Mister Hunter, is jeopardize that work. Or distract from it.

[ priorities and precedence. last night, with him and whiskey as her witnesses, she'd admitted his importance to her. but that doesn't change the fact that they're both stuck somewhere they shouldn't be -- and making this place more palatable won't do either of them any favours. ]

Edited 2017-11-30 20:54 (UTC)

[Perhaps they have done things entirely out of their proper order, yet it's hardly a concept Rip's unfamiliar with. His entire profession rests on the fact that for 99.9% of all the people to ever exist, time would be experienced in a linear fashion—and for the rest, it must be navigated carefully, lest their disruptions shatter the flow of what has happened and what should be.

Fitting, then, that Peggy latches on to work first. A matter of priorities, as she had said, and Rip shows little reaction when she picks up her notebook. He's taken care to not write on the pages themselves; rather there's all manner of inserts and adhesive notes, a key written out where he's solved her cypher and made a quick reference for himself tucked between the pages. All that's left is to finish going through it, but—point to what Peggy has said—Rip has been taken his time with the thing, picking it up and putting it down as one might expect a person to do with a hobby rather than a matter of work.

But they do have all manner of time to fill here. After nearly a year, Rip understands the value of having a project; he's been less keen on ending this one so quickly. Maybe moreso now, if Peggy decides she'd take the work and dump off everything else.

She isn't wrong, however. Regardless of anything more to come (or to be avoided), the effort to return to their respective worlds should come first.] I enjoy working with you as well, Miss Carter. [Echoed because even this much of an admission causes Peggy to falter in her expression, and certainly she deserves to know that their thoughts run mutual in this regard.]

And I agree with your sentiment. We both must keep our eyes on the prize, as they say. [The pleasures that might be found in Wonderland are at best momentary indulgences, distractions from the dangers and the hardships those trapped within this world are forced to suffer.

However pleasant those diversions truly are.

He almost continues on, to point out that diversions can take on many forms—but he's put the onus on Peggy, and she's shouldered it admirably thus far. It would be unfair of Rip to let some manner of impatience show just then, so he swallows his words with a touch of tea, waits for her to be ready for whatever part she deems suitable to come next.]

[ the very intersection of his notes with hers is already a damnably intimate thing. peggy pulls aside a stuck note, absorbs the short-hand commentary he'd left on something she'd wrote, and realizes that in effect he's been having conversations with her all week -- with her scribbles at any rate.

the understanding shows in her face when she looks at him -- chin low but eyes flicked upward to steal only a glance, to catch him as he takes another swallow of lemon-ginger-honey. it's easy to believe his rejoinder -- that he enjoys working with her as well -- when she can see that enjoyment in every annotation.

it's tragic, yes, but the truth is that peggy's rarely known collaboration like this. she's only ever been a unique asset to a unit (as it had been with the howlies) or she's been an ill-fitting one in an agency of mostly-buffoons who refused her her acknowledgement. is it no wonder she cherishes this partnership, now? no wonder that she hesitates to see it evolve? ]

It's a fine platitude -- [ eyes on the prize! ] -- except it doesn't account for when those eyes start to wander.

[ and when it comes to eyes, she speaks of hers as much as she does his. it would be easy to blame him, to castigate him, to do what she did last night and accuse rip of being somehow inappropriate in the face this change on the horizon. but the truth is that she's met him here like an equal partner.

last night, she kissed him first. ]

I don't want to be sweethearts.

[ peggy sticks to these guns: the shorter list, the don't wants above the wants. in the end, this point rings similar to rip's earlier protest over not being some schoolboy head-over-heels. the assumption might not be there, but she feels it's important to dash it all the same. ]

Edited 2017-11-30 21:47 (UTC)

[In so many ways, Peggy offering that notebook for Rip's perusal speaks of her expectations of him: to be able to see beyond the codes and the cyphers, to study the meat of her observations, and in the end, to build upon them, add his own thoughts to hers until they come up with something viable in this silent war against Wonderland. Except now, as she judges his jottings, the collaboration becomes far more personal. In a sense they are speaking terms, and Rip realizes then that she's not just settling out a list for him to agree and disagree with.

She called it the shorter variant, but now Rip suspects it's likely the easier one too. Her form of avoidance, to partner with his earlier ducking of the question by asking it.]

That's a fair way to wander, you realize. [Sweethearts, a word that sounds every bit as saccharine as she accuses his tea of being. For Rip, Ray and Sarah could qualify as sweethearts. A pair who are consumed with each other, who have decided to live and breathe and build a life together, however long it might last.

He'd had similar desires once. But when viewed through such a lens now, Rip finds it a touch easier to nod in agreement—not because he's adverse to the idea.

Rather, he simply understands the manner of person he is.]

Likely it's for the best; I've never been much good when it comes to playing the romantic anyway. [Oh, he's had his moments along the way; little surprises cooked up for Miranda, things he knew would make her smile. But far more often it had been her leaving him the reminders of home and family and love, her the one to steal his breath away. There's already so much pain to come with their inevitable parting; better to not add disappointment to that list too.]

[ ...she closes the notebook over her thumb, holding the book at a random page, and bouncing it thoughtlessly against her knee. the soft tap tap tap punctuating silence, biding time while peggy thinks her way through his reply. rip understands her list for what it is: terms, given with a whisper's space for haggling.

it would have been easier if he'd overlooked that fact. there was always the possibility that he would have argued, laughed, or reacted with indignation. had any of those happened, peggy knows, she would have stood up and walked out.

but he entertains the negotiation. so she stays, despite how her head swims. maybe peggy should drink some of tea, get some more fluid into her system, hold her verdict hostage for a bit of toast. but no, they're in the mud of it now, and she intends to see the discussion through to its end. ]

-- I also don't want you consulting Tony Stark on my whereabouts. Or my well-being. Or my...anything, for that matter. [ the two are free to talk, of course, but she'd rather not be the subject of that talking. ] It's twice now I've argued with him because of you. I won't suffer it a third time.

[ this might seem like a non-sequitur. except for peggy, it's anything but. she'd made a fuss over 'sweethearts', but last night tony had sent her a message that rather annoyingly referred to rip as her 'boyfriend,' and it's that same temperamental refusal to embrace those labels that makes her raise this new point. ]

Edited 2017-11-30 22:33 (UTC)

[Oh, now that will get the indignation that Peggy thought might be provoked earlier. The tea has helped, but mention of Tony Stark inspired an entirely new throb of pain, paired with a sharp frown as Peggy couches her terms in ways that would implicate Rip stands culpable for whatever she and her nephew had bickered over.]

Oi, now; I can't be held responsible for whatever fit that man sees fit to throw. [What he'd mentioned last night remains true today; Rip's got no idea what he's done that's apparently offended Tony so greatly, that a call of concern now apparently warrants an argument--a second one, at that.]

I've spoken to the man all of three times sum total, and two of those saw him throwing vitriol when I'd just barely said hello. [He places the cup on the table, forgoing more of the tea in favor of leaning back against the sofa. He rolls his head back against the cushion, though an inconveniently placed seam digs uncomfortably at the back of his skull.] While I will readily admit I can be a "dick" at times, I've done nothing to warrant it with him.

[No, that is entirely Tony's irrational behavior, and should sit on his shoulders. But a moment later Rip sighs; he can at least abide some of what she has thrown out.]

Give me your room number and I shouldn't have reason to call him again. [Even if Peggy seeks to avoid Rip, he can at least ensure her possessions remain in tact, and by extension, that she remains tethered to Wonderland.] You do realize I only contacted him last night because I was concerned, don't you? That hardly puts me in the wrong here.

[ peggy knows damn well that she's the linchpin around which those arguments turn, and not rip at all. her stipulation hadn't even intended to implicate him as the root cause so much as their conversations -- his and tony's -- catalyzed immediate headaches for her once tony started lashing out. it's a tenderness of ego she never had to account for with the man's father, and one she's handled rather poorly so far. the easiest thing, the thing she tries to accomplish right now, is to just sever the trigger.

...only it comes with a price, doesn't it? peggy rolls her eyes, yes, and shakes her head throughout the initial indignant tirade. but it's always indicative of something when she a particular argument not worth the rising. just as it's not her responsibility to defend rip to tony, it's equally not hers to defend tony to rip. she's no wealthow; she's no peace-weaver. ]

I'd buy it, perhaps, if you'd waited a day before you let your concern get the better of you. [ oh, yes, they'd found a rather equitable compromise last night in a twist and tangle on the sofa -- but that doesn't mean she's absolved him for his overeager concern. ] But a handful of hours, Good god, man. Be honest. Were you motivated by concern alone?

[ he'd asked for her wants, and she'd offered him the opposite. now it's her turn to stick him with a question intended to shed a little more light on this knot of threads between them. perhaps it's not as forthright as asking him what he wants, but she suspects it'll have much the same effect.

and after getting his hackles up. oh, peggy looks almost smug as she sits back and awaits his answer. ]

[He breathes out a sharp bark of laughter, even if it sends a corresponding spike of pain through his skull. Waited a day she says, as if there's some acceptable time frame that should pace before Rip is allowed to let his manifest worry. He rolls his head to look at her, while at the same time counting off his reasoning on upraised fingers, one ticked after another to explain why his concerns were both valid and appropriately timed.]

We were less than 48 hours out from an event with an element that might have seen someone killed, we reside in a universe which brings people to and from their home dimensions with hardly any measure of predictability, and the last time I saw you, it was when your shadow laid bare your vulnerabilities to such a degree that you wished me to leave you alone so I wouldn't hear whatever you decided to confess to it.

[Three reasons; three possibilities.] I've no idea if or how many times you might have died here already, and I got no answer when I attempted to contact you directly myself. And you are as stubborn as you are strong, Miss Carter. Without fail, you have shown up on my doorstep every Wednesday, no matter what each of us has been through.

[No matter what he has been through. Rip draws in a breath, lets it out as a sigh. Though it seems so obvious now what the difference had been, in those hours last night?
Rip's thoughts ran another way.]

So either you couldn't come, or you chose not to. I needed to ascertain which it was so I would know how to proceed.

[ he cracks his actions apart with all the specificity of an operative performing an autopsy on a less-than-successful mission. right down to his numbered justifications. peggy's focus shifts between his fingers and his eyes, and she finds herself both respecting and resenting the tactic. peggy had tried to bait him into spilling forth some sort of sentiment, but he'd staunchly refused. perhaps she should be relieved, in the end.

even so, she disagrees. there's too much of a contradiction in the position -- they can't proceed like this, behaving as though being sent home could ever be a cause for serious concern. because here's what she thinks happened: upon realizing that peggy wasn't coming, rip had wanted to explain her absence away by unforeseen circumstances. her assumption, however cold, is that he'd proceeded hastily because he didn't want to entertain the possibility that she might have stood him up. that she might have willfully ignored his messages.

she slides to the edge of her seat. he'd named his price for this list-item, and peggy hadn't paid it yet. but by now she decides she'd drawn adequate blood to offset the cost. riled him up a little, let him suffer his headache a little more, prompt him to explain himself in detail and then respond to the whole lot with only two words: ]

Five fifteen.

[ there. next-bloody-time he can some and knock on her door himself. spare the both of them a great deal of confusion. ]

Edited 2017-12-01 00:31 (UTC)

[He's got little idea of the sentiment she's after from him, that in this case, Peggy means to dig past the surface and find some deeper meaning to his motivations. And perhaps they are there, waiting to be spelled out past neat summations like "concerns" and "worries"--but just the same, haven't they already been made obvious by Rip's confession of Peggy's importance? Or his eagerness to return her kiss, to lose himself in her the night prior--

The fact that he'd still had whiskey out when she stopped by, so many hours after she'd been expected?

Yet in the end Peggy gives; deceptively, perhaps, relenting in one direction so Rip might not notice her retreating in the other. If so, job well done for her. He commits the number to memory, and though he already suspects he won't be welcome as a surprise visitor, it's comforting to know he can at least put any future concerns to ease without summoning the aid of others.]

Five fifteen. [Repeated and then laid to rest, at least in Rip's mind. He raises his head again; the seam's gotten the better of him, and while he rubs at the errant spot, he glances back towards her.]

Anything more on your list of undesirables? [He won't jinx it by speaking the thought aloud, but so far it's been easy enough to accommodate.

Mentions of Tony Stark aside.]

Edited 2017-12-01 00:42 (UTC)

[ she's not proud of the way she baits and hunts those feelings. but the truth is that none of the previous indicators can be trusted as gospel. not really -- whether given in a moment of crisis or of drunkenness, none of them are stamped with the kind of quiet certainty she craves just now. a good solid lead, one that she can follow from today into next week. and, more importantly, next wednesday.

peggy picks back up her mug. the contents are lukewarm, now, but she makes a go of drinking them all the same. somehow it's worse for a lack of heat, and she doesn't hide her distaste after she swallows.

there's more, yet, to talk about. she still needs to approach the question of what items, if any, sit waiting on his list. but for now she crinkles her nose in acknowledgement of his question. ]

I don't suppose you'd be willing to consider a clean shave?

[ because rip hunter is the first man she's ever kissed with such a beard on his chin. and while she might have enjoyed kissing him rather a lot, she finds herself still undecided about the whiskers. ]

[He says nothing when she takes her drink, though perhaps she can find a level of certainty in the smug satisfaction showing in Rip's eyes when she once more puts on a face of disgust at the flavor. Of course the kettle is there should she wish to use it herself--but far be it from Rip to point that out, even now.

Besides, considering the time that Peggy's from? He doubts she could leave anything in that cup without feeling some twinge of wrongness about it. Never mind that Wonderland would seem to be the land of plenty; mend and make do, always.

It's part of her stubbornness that Rip rather appreciates, even beyond moments such as this which see him take advantage of it.

Oh, but her question--and it is a question, rather than a non-negotiable demand--brings quite a different brand of mischievous thought into his head. There's really only one reason why she'd be asking after his beard now, and Rip puts on a show of considering it, despite knowing his answer immediately.

It affords him a few seconds to pick up his mug once more.]

...I dare say you'll get used to it, Miss Carter.

[Cheers; Rip drains the final bit of his tea.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

IC Inbox - Entranceway

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject