1897/A Quiet Moment on the Buoyant

A Quiet Moment on the Buoyant
Date of Scene:	29 May 2020
Location:	The Bouyant, Stark Yacht
Synopsis:	Steve and Peggy have a heartfelt talk in a quiet corner of Stark's party yacht, the Bouyant.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers

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Peggy Carter has posed:
It's hard to escape on a place like this, people seeming to fill every edge of the main deck and the dance floor, but Peggy certainly wasn't up to dancing and she did not understand the strange mix of music that was on, so she's taken the chance to go to some of the lower decks. There are still rows and rows of balconies on the lower desk, looking over the still, dark sea beyond, the echo of the music above like some distant music box. In nicer days, this deck is laid out with rows of sunning chairs for when the port side is well in the sun.

She's gone down to the furthest one, so she's the farthest possible from the party above, but has yet to give up to exhaustion and plop down in the chair. Instead, she leans heavily against the rail, her deep emerald dress lightly waving in the wind, exposing the long seams that stretch up the backs of her stockings. Her hair plays lightly off her face as well and, this far from the more modern trappings, this could be some strange scene from VE day far too many years ago. A scene they never got.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The sheer amount of hobnobbing to be done at an event such as this is exhausting even to the strongest of hearts. To field a nearly endless stream of chatter, both benign and testing, interesting and vapid alike, is a task requiring a breather at one point. It's in a lull of conversation that Steve is able to slip away from a small group of officers, the lead speaker going on and on and on about his own yacht, and stepping outside of the brightly-lit section of this level of the boat is a relief. The night air off the sea is cool where the ambient edge of the thermal shielding allows heat to escape and the Captain inhales deeply, eyes closed, and sighs out. Another button at his white shirt needs be undone: the curse of a nice evening suit is how //warm// they are.

He's at height to spot the lone person in the distance. His eyes narrow and with a pang, he recognizes the silhouette. How not to. A glance over his shoulder at the golden-lit gathering of folks and then back to the corner of the boat...and he moves to descend down a side staircase, pausing to let a few other people pass, good enough at social nuances to fake a smile and laugh at some smart comment.

Steve isn't quiet about his approach. He lets his footfalls announce himself before he stops short. "'s'nice...to have a little quiet, isn't it? I can leave you to it if you want." A greeting and offering all in one.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The footfalls alone gives him away. Somehow, after decades, Peggy still knows that tread of his step. Especially in dress shoes, there'd been so many galas like this in those early days after the project was successful. Galas with Steve next to Howard instead of Tony, but the weight of history is in the air tonight. Peggy smiles quietly to herself as she hears his voice a heartbeat later and dares turn her head, to take in his suited frame and those few undone buttons against the late spring heat. She looks infinitely better than she has, even a bit of softness to her cheeks or a very well done make up job before she went into her first public gathering since SHIELD was alerted of her presence.

"Very nice. But you aren't exactly a traveling party, Steve. I think we can manage to enjoy the quiet as a pair. I... forgot... how much the Starks do love their parties. It'd been a long while since Howard threw one of these. They are... a lot." Peggy admits with a husky bit of a laugh, the emotions behind her words both overwhelmed by the party and happily drowning in the nostalgia of it all. Enjoying the fact that some things don't change.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Meeting those dark eyes brings Steve to smile faintly in that way of his, knowing and quiet. His chin drops for a second before he looks up at the woman from beneath his eyebrows, as if a touch bashful at her notation of his presence being a quiet one. Still, it's an invite in itself, and he then walks over to join her at the railing of the boat. Comfortable space is left between them as he leans his crossed forearms on the railing, gaze aimed out across the waters.

Her comment about Howard, it brings him to laugh once. "Every year, 's'a lot," he agrees, voice pitched conversationally. "Always reminds me of Howard too, though I never bring it up with Tony. Figure it's his party, not his dad's party -- no need to shift the spotlight or make him feel like I did. Learned how to do it from Howard, I sometimes think. Host with the most," he then says, in a deliberate echo of the elder Stark, and with a glance over at Peggy. His own smile is a touch melancholy.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Whatever they put in her, it really left her nearly unchanged. Perhaps a few years older looking than the fresh faced SSR operative he knew in the 40s, but not by much, especially now that health returns to fill out her cheeks and not leave her consistently bent (though the cane she took with her tonight still remains quite close.) She's replaced her perfectly red velvet lipstick since dinner and other than a touch of exhaustion pinching around the edges of her eyes, she's very much her old self. A heartbeat later, she dares to more fully look to the side, dark eyes drinking him in beneath what light reflects from the water and the party above. She dares take the chance to look, *really* look, for the first time since she properly woke up.

"You're right. Reasons I didn't introduce myself tonight. I doubt Tony would even remember me... He was five when I went under. He doesn't need the past rushing up to meet him on a night like this. But still... it was nice to just get... Out. That building's begun to feel like a prison." Peggy's clipped accent admits quietly, a touch of shame lining the base of her words as well, "Or maybe it's just this... body... not cooperating near as quickly as I'd like." There's the actual shame. She never had patience for her own humanity.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Peggy will get a look at his profile for part of her perusal. Nothing on the man has changed but for perhaps how he wears his hair, a more modern style longer than his military cut those decades back, this tamed with a touch of gel. Otherwise, the same firm jawline, high cheekbones, proud nose and pale lashes as he looks out onto the waters.

Steve does glance over at another point and, noticing the more complete focus on her part, straightens from his casual lean on the railing. Instead, his palms rest there now as he looks into her face. "Never were good about taking it slow for a little," he says, reminiscent. "You're in good company." A sliver of his smile appears again, seen about the corners of his eyes. "Know what it's like to think you're never gonna get back up to snuff, but...I can tell you honestly, Peggy, you're healing in leaps 'nd bounds. Makes a lot of us look like slouches in comparison." He looks back over his shoulder, towards the party, and then back to her, expression gone more solemn.

"Tony was only five," he echoes, as if just coming to believe it. "Young then. Probably gonna have to greet'im at some point." Understanding brings a specific shadow to his true-blues.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I hope so. But... not tonight. And I... read what happened to Howard. I can't imagine Tony... took it all that well either. No worth bringing up old feelings on a night like this. It's good to see him celebrate. And.. some of our people. See them relax. Not that they are really *my* people any more. But, you know... SHIELD. You." Peggy gives him a half smile, not saying a word about her own healing or leaps and bounds, which is probably her best British attempt to be polite about the fact she disagrees but isn't going to call him out about being nice over it. So, she simply pretends it didn't happen. She's gotten through a lot of her career quietly pretending things didn't happen.

She exhales slowly, forcing herself to turn away, back out to the sea instead of staring too hard at him through all those moments. Instead of losing herself in the sight of the fact he is very much alive and very much himself. It's been a long time since she simply stared at these waters, the same ones that she dumped his blood in decades previously. For a heartbeat, her eyes are a million miles away, just below the Brooklyn Bridge only a little down the Hudson.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve watches her break the intense connection between them, continues to watch her own profile now. He traces the familiar lines of her face and his sigh is equally long if more silent. In an unconscious stance of solidarity, the man follows her attention out to the far horizon, where the sky bleeds into the distant sea and continues on more yet despite the blending.

"Can't really take the agent out of folks, 've noticed," he says softly. "They're still your people, Peggy, even if time's passed more'n a a few years. What you helped build, the roots're still there, at heart. 's'why I stay. Why 'm not working elsewhere or on another continent entirely. Things...things've changed, but...they always do. World spins on 'nd...things change."

His chin tucks again as he inhales, sighing again as he looks up and out at the waters. "Think you'll like Tony. Turned out a lot like his father, in good ways," Steve's sure to add. "Got that same spark, same drive to get whatever's rattling around in his head out." There's a faint smile; the Captain probably means in manner of both words AND inventions.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Perhaps by instinct, or perhaps quite purposeful, Peggy sinks just slightly to the side as they both are now watching the horizon, so her shoulder leans against the solid, too strong meat of his. She's not fully using him as a support, but the pressure of her frame is definitely there and she takes a bit more comfort in the warmth that is coming off of him. He always felt like some sort of steam engine since they changed things around. With her shoulderless dress, the sleeves staring just below her collarbones in a very off-the-shoulders 1950s cut, her skin's a touch too-cool in the evening air.

"I'm sure I'll like him then. And... that was the sense I was getting when reading the news. But tonight proved it more than ever." She laughs a bit more, "...Do you remember that time Howard tried to show his flying car at the world's fair? I... don't know if you were there that night, or not. I was in a box with the SSR and he was VERY determined to have ALL of us there for the whole thing vaguely blowing up before it ever made the stage." Her grin widens a bit more, white teeth flashing in the night, the amusement flickering all the way to her eyes. "So, I'll give Tony more than that. He actually gets his flying toys to work. And quite well."

Steve Rogers has posed:
No doubt the woman will feel how the Captain subtly settles himself into place at the shift in her weight. At first, he seems to assume she requires the crutch of his person and remains there, steadfast as he always was, warm too as the super-serum tends to run within his veins.

Peggy laughs, and he glances over at her, brows lifted. Amusement trickles slowly into his features, through the way his lips pull to one side as if he weren't sure it was polite to laugh as well, but finally, he can't help it. "Tony got //all// his flying toys to work," chuckles Steve, then shaking his head. "Those 'nd more. Ask 'im about PAULA, he'll tell you all about her." The manner of inflection give the name its state of acronym. "But I was there at the World Fair for the flying car, yeah. God, that was..." Fading out, he squints up at the sky, his smile twisting. "Remember it rising off the stage 'nd sparking 'nd then hitting it like a shot duck. Howard handled it well like he always did, something about 'still in the works'."

Of course the man could continue that he'd argued with Barnes on the steps outside the Recruiting Center, managed to catch the eye of Doctor Erskine, but those are still things too near to his heart, old scars of memories of personalities lost.

"Had a box though, did you?" He glances over at Peggy, his smile still quiet. "Had a bag of peanuts myself."

Peggy Carter has posed:
To her memory, it was forty years ago. Yet, somehow, things still come up sharp as if it had been a handful of weeks. Perhaps because so much of that week played in her mind time and again, how their lives got to the point they were. She exhales slowly, leaning a bit more against him as she stares into the night. "...I wondered if you were. Somewhere in the massive crowd. I remember Dr. Erskine said he found you at that fair. I knew you were... somewhere near. He didn't make the best notes in your file. I think he was scared of them tossing you out." With his presence it's too hard to get lost in memories she hasn't thought about in decades. She's silent for a heartbeat or two before slightly shaking her head, making herself stiffen again. Stand exhaustedly upright.

"I'm sorry. You don't need to go over all of this. We've got futures and... other things to handle. That was a very long time ago and things I thought I'd put far, far behind me... " When he wasn't standing right there. When she thought he was decades lost in the ice. But she's straightening again, the stern, emotionless director she's been for so long.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Doctor Erskine had a point," murmurs the SSR's premier lab gerbil, now so much more than five foot and some of pale, anemic, stubbornly idealistic young man. He'd looked back up at the night sky, strewn with stars even this close to the glow of New York in the evening hours, and he feels her poise shift.

Again, so subtly, his presence remains steady against her shoulder for as long as she needs to gain her feet properly -- both physically and emotionally. Steve's true-blues go properly sober now as he watches the armor come back up and it stings. It stings enough for him to force himself to acknowledge it. Still, the man knows better than to pry at the armor; not only is it strong, but it will gain him nothing, not with the steely spine inside it.

"Still nice to know some things don't change, like having a future to look forward to, familiar faces at the Triskelion. Peggy..." He pauses, the thought hanging, looking between her dark eyes. "'m glad you're back."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The moment that his shoulder actually ceases to make contact with her own, though she was the one that pulled away, Peggy's eyes close against a flood of emotions she really didn't need. It wasn't proper back then and it certainly isn't now. She takes a deep breath in through her nose, keeping that armor tight in place, weaving in the few hints of threads that dare fray out in her moments of weakness. It's all been a lot and she's still not really letting herself acknowledge that.

She keeps that game smile in place, turning to more fully face him the way she would when they were staring down a map overwhelmed with enemy forces. Exhausted, uncertain, but smiling. Not willing to give an inch to the uncertainty in her heart. "I'll be glad of it when I can properly get back in the field. Fighting. Doing... *something*... other than jogging tracks and catching up on news. But... you're here. And James is here. And... if I ever was losing hope for the world... knowing you both are back... It... It's not gone. That's hope. If nothing else."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve's smile he too tries is less certain than hers, but oh how he tries nonetheless. He's turned fully to face her now, one hand left on the railing and the other left to hang at his side.

"James 'nd I...we're waitin' on you to get up to snuff, Agent Carter. You do this 'nd we'll keep the light on for you until you show up 'cause...mean, the world's not gonna know what hit it." She speaks of hope and it gleams in his gaze upon her. Then, the hand at his side moves, a lift up with palm outstretched, not to shake like this was all business, but to hold and squeeze, just in case the contact takes some of the tension from around her darkly-lashed eyes. "See you back at headquarters?" the Captain asks quietly.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The fact his smile isn't up to snuff isn't lost on her. Peggy frowns, concern softening her features almost immediately, a few of those walls tumbling as quickly as they were built. She slips her hand into his but she doesn't quite let him go yet, pulling him a bit closer as her brown eyes tilt up, searching his blues somewhat deeper than before. "...That's not your smile. Not your full one. Just... talk to me. Steve. Be... honest. God, I don't know how to bloody well get through this but I know we can't just... stand and hide from each other. Pretend that nothing's... changed and everything is fine as it was. I know... that." Even though that is exactly what she was trying to do.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Of course the man's attempt at a social mask, such an easy veneer to keep up before the social media affairs and strangers of the world, fractures. It's the step-in and the direct eye contact, things both an advance on his own defenses and testing to them both.

Steve's mouth works a few time before he tucks his chin for a second, reaching with his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. "'m...not good at this either, Peggy," he nearly mumbles, thrown right back into those instances where getting beaten up in alleyways vastly outweighed his ability to speak to women. Where did the ease of speech go? "Everything's changed, that's right, 'nd...I feel like I need to apologize for everything. The whole world's different now 'nd things're sometimes like trying to fit a square peg into a triangular hole. I dunno how to help you." That's not exactly all of it, but things are jumbling up behind his now-pinched lips.

If he could kick a rock, he would, but there are no rocks to kick on the Bouyant. "'m sorry," he breathes, hangdog in every line of his body. His grip at her hand still hasn't released and, somehow, not gotten unconsciously tighter, the better to avoid hurting.

Peggy Carter has posed:
His hand isn't dropped, though Peggy's fingertips do get a little bit tigther. Just a bit. She listens to that spill of awkward, honest words, it making things a bit harder to keep swallowed down in her own chest, but then she was the one to ask and break the dam. She exhales a slightly shaking, deeper breath, a hint of glassiness coming to her dark eyes, but she does quite let herself cry yet. A weak, bittersweet crack of a laugh escapes her throat.

"... That's it. That's how we felt when... When you were gone. How you felt when James was lost, then... you went. And that's how Howard and I were. For... for a long time. Trying to fit a square peg into a triangle life. None of it made sense. And I don't... I don't know if we finally just got used to it or things actually, finally... Healed. Probably a bit of both. Howard got older. I didn't. Not after that... experiment. And we never talked about it. Life was just... life. Howard had a family. I married myself to the job. I thought I knew what life... was." Something in her crumbles a touch more. One, single bit of saline finally escapes her lashes. "And now... it's all upside down again. You're here... everything I dreamt about so long, but I'm not director and SHIELD doesn't need me and... there... There isn't a war on. Not a proper one... and god, outside of all that... I have no bloody clue who I... am."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve listens, and his heart continues to turn more into a gigantic bruise behind his ribs. His own lips begin to scrunch. At this point, he can't tell if he punctured her own damn of feelings or he's stomped all over them and this is the reaction from on from it.

And then comes that single tear, enough to rattle him to his core. Peggy never cries.

"Oh...no, Peggy, c'mon, 's'not..." he tries, his own voice very quiet now. "C'mon, hope. You just talked about hope. Things're different now, but that doesn't mean SHIELD doesn't need you -- 's'the opposite. They need you more'n ever, you've got experience nobody's gonna have, nobody there. Wisdom too, wisdom I don't have, 'nd neither does James. World's still at war, just quieter now, something I had to get used to. Peggy, I promise -- I promise things'll be okay. Not always gonna be feeling like a sore thumb, things get better," he insists in that heartfelt manner of his, still holding her hand.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Chocolate eyes press tightly shut against the threat of another tear. She won't. Peggy *won't* dare let herself cry again. It's a handful of moments that she's pulling herself back together but she does manage to stop the worst of it, her slightly shaken breath the only thing that echoes the fact she fell apart at all. Peggy gives him a faint nod, reopening her gaze and forcing a bit of a smile back to her perfectly red lips. "...I know. I... do know this. And I'll... catch up. And find things to do. It's just been a long... time... Since... there wasn't anyone relying on me. And now there isn't. It's..." She takes in another breath and squares her bare shoulders. "Life. And a life I'll... learn."

She squeezes his hand one more time before trying to gently let go. "I've kept you too long tonight, though. It's a party... You should be enjoying yourself. Go. We... we will have time to catch up in the future. I'm not going anywhere." But she wasn't willing to go back to the glittering throng. Not tonight.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Never wishing a moment of discomfort in the woman around himself, Steve gently releases her fingers to their freedom. He nods and swallows, as if his own throat had gone tight and there were a lump to work around.

"See you at headquarters, Peggy," he then bids her, his words as even as he can manage them and look: a smile, a sad one, but he tries so hard to make it happen. "Get back safely. We can talk over coffee." He doesn't argue that there's a party to be had, one to attend and continue attending until long after the zenith of the midnight hour. Nope: social obligations call.

It'll just be after she leaves, and he's certain that she's gone, that he'll pull up his own armor again and go back to the golden glow of bodies and chatter.