IC Inbox - Entranceway

[directed]

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

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[directed]

[She must have her own reasons for offering up the name, he thinks, ones that don't fall under the realm of dignity. Melodramatic though it may have been, Rip had no intention of asking Peggy to name the man love couldn't quite conquer, not in time for her to have him, at any rate. Still, she does, and unprompted at that. It's a name with which Rip's familiar, in the end.]

I met him once. Seemed a decent fellow. [Certainly he'd been willing enough to give up precious food to monsters, all for the sake of a stranger. Decent indeed, but Rip doesn't mean to give him compliment beyond that. Not when Peggy tries to leash not her temper now, but her ache.

He knows that agony. Not in the exact terms, perhaps, but similar ones. For love to die, then hope to plant it's seed--only for the ground to be poisoned.

It's his turn then to drain the drink. His turn, then, to decide how far to open the wound.

His, along with hers.]

I am sorry, for whatever that's worth. [For what she's been through, shouldering the blame of seeing death where there had been something far different at play. For having that second chance come just that bit too late. He remembers asking Gideon to check on the reports of his family.

She'd hesitated. Over and over. At the end, she had been the one to say she was sorry.]

I'm also quite willing to fetch another bottle, since it looks like we'll be needing it.

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[mucked]

[ seemed a decent fellow.

and had rip left it at that, peggy might even have felt compelled to endorse the verdict. to her (even now) steve stood like a pinnacle of decency. perhaps he never quite learned how to talk to her, how to make the words as smooth and as painless as he might have liked, but even on the day he broke her heart she was left with the vexing impression that steve never wanted to see her hurt. even as she'd banished him from her room, he'd hopped to with that old earnest nature.

it's how she knows she would go to bat for him again and again and again, even though she couldn't make her peace with what's transpired. the ground is poisoned, yes, but her professional regard for captain rogers is as intact as the day she saw him dive on that grenade.

god, it'd be so much simpler if she could hate him. ]

So am I. [ sorry. although it's up to interpretation whether she's still talking about steve or has expanded her sympathies to that wider circle -- after all, it had been something of a two-way street of shared information out by the firing range. but peggy draws a line before outright mentioning rip's dead family.

she eyes the bottle. any worries peggy might have harboured that she'd been wearing out her welcome soon dissipate with rip's offer to fetch another. ] What can you bring to memory in the way of a good bourbon?

[ -- she's not picky about her blends. far from it. but the question seems like an ideal springboard to move them abruptly away from the topic. although the geography, it seems, remains distinctly american. ]