3122/Old Fangs, Older Claws

Old Fangs, Older Claws
Date of Scene:	27 August 2020
Location:	McSorley's Pub, Manhattan
Synopsis:	More old friends reunite over pints. Of beer, not blood. Though the latter will probably happen down the line, both spilled and drank.
Cast of Characters:	Logan Howlett, Peggy Carter, Ariah Olivie

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Logan Howlett has posed:
McSorely's pub is not one of the of the fanicest places in New York City. In fact, it smells like the 80 years of beer it's been crusted in. Some of the walls are still stained from when you were allowed to smoke indoors. Pints have gone from 10 cents to 7 bucks, but there's still a few original menus on the wall. The booths are all small, close together, made for older times and private conversations.

A couple of years ago, they also added honest to true Coney dogs. A delicious hot dog topped with savory meat sauce, onions, mustard, and some cheese. A short Canadian with somewhat wild hair and five o-clock shadow angrily dabs some of that aforementioned mustard off a red and black flannel shirt.

He frowns, rolls up his sleeves, revealing forearms both strong and hairy, and then resumes eating his late lunch. A pint glass and pitcher of ale are nearby, he appears to have consumed half the volume already. There were worse ways to wait for someone. Not that Peggy was late. Logan just decided to come early.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Sure, telling someone over a phone there was another ghost alive from the past was fun. But getting to see the looks on their faces? That was even better. Besides, Peg would take the excuse for a pint at McSorley's any day. It's been a messy week and change so, after giving herself two days to *actually* rest, Peg invited them both for a drink. At worst, it'd be a pint on an afternoon. At best? They'd have more for the hunting team.

"I know I drug you here at least once or twice in the 60s. Just because YOU can't remember it means nothing. Maybe you had a bit too much time with that flower child. Remember her? The one in the crochet dress and most certainly *not* a bra?" Peg mutters to the woman behind her as they step into the room, winding through old, low tables and along dark booths. She's still moving a touch slow and her right arm is in that stolen sling, but the worst multiple injuries from too-many fights in one week has past. She's in work wear today, a high waisted, wide legged set of charcoal slacks that match the double breasted and wide lapel suit jacket. One arm down, her hair is twisted back down the side of her head instead of her normal soft waves that come from pincurls. "Ah...there we go." She nods towards Logan in their usual booth.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah isn't idignant about the accusations, in fact, she seems to be agreeing. "Marigold was a sweetheart," she says quietly, that tone of hers cold and thickly accented, but there's a hint of mirth in her voice as well. "...she was delicious... but ran off to start a band in Southern California... she is probably dead by now..." A joyful memory with a bitter reality, it's not the 60's anymore. It's been sixty years, in fact. "...and you know alcohol has not done anything to me since the Embrace," she explains further.

    The girl would look the same to Logan as she had back in the forties. Four foot ten. Stark white hair done up in a short pixie. She's dressed up as much as she does usually, something casual for summer with a lilac sun dress and some strappy flat sandals. With her looks and stature she probably doesn't look old enough to be in a bar, and she's been passing as a college student since her first days in NYC as it is. Then she gets the nod, and looks towards the booth. There we go indeed.

    "...it is really him. In his natural habitat."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Peggy gets a low growl, the scruffy Canadian obviously pissed about something. He closes his eyes, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and then slowly drains his pint. After a deep breath, he peeks one eye open and looks at Peggy's sling. Yea, someone is in trouble.

His blue gaze shifts from Miss Carter to Ariah, his brow knitting somewhat in confusion. As they both approach he grunts, "Either Ariah Olivie has a grand-daughter who is her spitting image, or you are another of my old comrades that just refuses to die." He chuckles lowly and gazes toward Peggy. "I'm gonna assume its the old comrade thing. How's life, Ariah? Lookin' to pick up our old past-time of makin' fascists regret bein' alive?"

He waves them over and gestures to get his pitcher refilled. "Pardon me for gettin' an early start. I had a hankerin' for coney dogs." Speaking of which, he lifts one and takes another bite from it.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Oh, come now, you know his natural habitat is hunting down someone who has made a bad decision, preferably in six feet of snow and up hill both ways. It's the Canadianin him." Peggy deadpans as they approach Logan's table, most certainly not bothering to be politely quietly about it. In fact, the grin that paints her red lips a moment later is all mischief and teasing. "Least you could have done was order us a round." She jests, sinking down into the booth across from him and scooting in, so her off arm is against the wall and she can rather ignore that it's there.

"You said I shouldn't do this alone, so... Well, I'd love to say I hunted down a crack team, but it's more like Ariah found me. Just as capable as ever." Peggy murmurs in approval, looking over the tiny, white haired woman at her side. She lets Ariah speak for herself on if she's up to rejoining the cause, but the self satisfied expression on Peg's face probably tells most the story.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "We are in New York. Six feet of snow could be arranged," she states in that soft, deadpan tone of hers. She listens to the exchange, and the greeting, nodding to Logan in acknowledgement. Her own black-painted lips are held in a straight expression, and she silently slides in next to Peggy when room is made for her. Finally, she responds to the old battle axe's suggestion that she just refuses to die.

    "I made a deal with a devil after the war ended," she says, as if it's the gods-honest truth. She even lets her fangs slip down and into place, so Logan can see them. "A very beautiful devil," she ends her statement with. It isn't likely her 'preferences' are exactly a secret. Then she looks between the two and nods. "So long as monsters driven by fascism exist, I will be ever eager to send them to a shallow grave in pieces..." she says with that cold intensity.

    Then she looks up at Peggy, "They still do not serve wine here, do they."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Clearly, you need to find yourself a small army and power armor." Logan mumbles in Peggy's direction. "Someone doesn't know how to stop gettin' herself hurt." He extends a finger from his pint glass, "I swear, Peggy. You keep this up, and I'll chain your ankle to the desk myself."

Hollow threats, but seeing Peggy roughed up clearly made him grumpy. He sips glass then chuckles lowly at Ariah. "Well, if I'd trust anyone to make that deal, it'd be you. You seemed to have your head wrapped around the spooky. Not sure how'd we have dealt with Karl Maria Wiligut and his goons without someone like you on our side."

His eyes narrow at the thought of Wewelsburg Castle, the SS, and all the occult tricks the Third Reich tried to dig up with the help of Hydra. The thoughts trigger another low growl that he buries in another bite of coney dog.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slight tsk of dismissal comes from Peggy's throat as Logan threatens to chain her ankle to a desk. She levels dark eyes at him. "You wouldn't dare and you know I'd pick myself free in an hour anyway. This is nothing except for Steve being a touch over protective and some complications in the clean up of it all. But we've got another asset on the ground in the Bronx now and it was little more than a misunderstanding." Peggy would have been content to just ignore it entirely, but that's the response his waggling finger gets, along with the pointed 'You wouldn't dare' look. He knows the one.

Ariah's reunion is a far more enjoyable diversion. Peggy wrinkles her nose just a touch, "I...suspect they have that awful table wine in jugs nowadays. I don't know that it's much better than the ale." She admits with an almost apologetic smile. She motions to the waiter for two more glasses to share in Logan's pitcher. They'll probably end up ordering a third.

The memory of Wiligut draws a slow exhale from Peggy. She hadn't considered it in ages. "...that was those Thule devotees, wasn't it? That old castle?" Even Peggy doesn't have perfect recall, but it's hard to forget a place like that.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "The Lady has taken very good care of me," Ariah states. Clearly her 'devil' is still around and haunting New York. She gives a playful sort of smile to Logan while she enjoys the banter between her two old friends. The mention of the quality of wine here utterly kills any hint of a smile on her lips, though, and she shakes her head. "I have to rely on other places for a sweet glass of ice wine, then... the beer will have to do. Especially if we are going to talk about that gods damned castle..."

     She looks between the pair again but settles on Logan. "We should all be glad the experimental surgery took properly. I would not have survived that place, or the rest of the war if not for that.... augmentation. They were still trying to figure out what to do with me. The tiny French girl who was also a witch..." She allows herself a soft laugh, "Not a bad title now anymore though, non? Little witch."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan eyes Peggy once more then mumbles, "Not if melted the padlock" before he drains the remainder of his pint and begins pouring himself a refresh.

He listens to Ariah, nodding along. "Well, these days witch is an easier moniker to live with then 'mutant'. So yea, good title. Glad to have you around again, so I can feel tall."

He offers an amused chuckle then shrugs, "Not that I knew you were comin', but with that French palette, I gave up a long time ago tryin' to pick out acceptable wine. So next time, you pick the place, and I can bitch about the beer." He grins clearly just being his playful self.

"You know.. I'm startin' to marvel about how many of us are still around from those days. Almost like this new generation just can't cut it, so fate or whatever decided to keep us around." He waggles his eyebrows.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Beneath the table, Logan's ankle gets a little swat with the toe of Peggy's high heeled shoe. It's mostly teasing, and her foot stays in place resting against the side of his pant cuff, but that's a clear note on how she feels about padlocks and chained desks. She thankfully accepts the extra glasses and fresh pitcher, pouring for Ariah first, as the guest, then Logan's refill, and finally for herself. She makes a casual gesture for the waiter to simply keep the pitchers coming. It was that kind of meeting.

"...Augmentation. You know they didn't let me see your medical records until well after we secured you as a contractor for SHIELD? Those files were sealed...so damn tightly." There's a mix of both protectiveness in Peggy's dark eyes and a bit of worry, even if it's about surgeries that happened a lifetime ago. Peggy always was a bit over protective for the 'special ops' in her care. And she's chiding Logan for being over protective.

"...The new generation is... More than capable, in their own ways. Fighting their own people. I would probably fail horribly at some war half on the internet and half using technology like Howard's son has. But... we still have messes left. People that fight and live like we did. And until those are handled... well, I'm just glad we have a second chance." She knocks back a gulp of her beer with a motion that is only a touch bitter. She's still angry about this all. In fact, she might be *more* angry about it now than she was last week when Logan saw her.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Witch works best. Vampire witch is more accurate," Ariah says, extra quietly, fixing a look at Logan. "...let us please keep the first part a secret. It is even less well received than 'mutant', oui?" she asks, suggesting softly. She manages to get it out before the fresh drinks arrive, however. She's silent, too, while the exchange is handled, and the delivery is made. The drink is taken in hand, after it's filled, and she gives a slow drain of it, exhaling after with a sigh.

    "I would invite you to where I play music sometimes, but I do not think they would let you in at the door," she suggests a more elegant venue. She also seems to have taken up an instrument in the last intervening years. "One of the bars I sing at has a mix of everything, at the least," she offers the pair of them. She does, then, frown a little more at Peggy's words, looking at her while she talkis about the current generation.

    "...so you know how much of a mess it was, if you were able to see those records, non? What they did to me? To turn me into a better weapon before sending us off?" she asks, voice soft, icy. "...my capabilities since being turned have not diminished, but I am only a fraction of the strength of my elder in that side of things..."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan barely seems to recognize the swat. He just grins a bit at Peggy and drinks from his refilled glass. He tilts his head at the term 'contractor' eyeing Ariah as he considers the ramifications. He nods to himself as it all seems to make sense.

"It ain't all that bad if you got someone who can work the tech angle for you. I'm lucky to have friends like Kitty Pryde and Hank McCoy. My friends find plenty of uses for my 'old school' methods. Short of gettin' yourself a drone, someone usually has to get their hands dirty with violence in the end." He shrugs.

He frowns long and hard at Ariah. "I uh.. get it. I didn't get it back then, but I get it now. I've been through my own ordeal involvin' augmentation. I'm a lot more than just the 'lucky man' I was before."

Both his eyebrows raise, "Now hold on, just one second... Don't confuse preference with ability. I've been in my share of fancy and refined places. I learned a -lot- about fittin' in with 'elegant folks' from my time in Madripoor. That den of scum loved it's high-life. You make a pretty rotten mercenary and assassin if a dress code is enough to bar you from entry."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The silence that comes from Peggy as Ariah asks about the mess speaks volumes. She doesn't even pick up her beer again but gives a slight dip of her head. "Yes. I know. And I am... sorry." Oh, there's a disagreement there, probably something that was a screaming match at the time.

She eases slightly as Logan moves noto insisting that he can be elegant. One brow arches at him, "I would quite enjoy seeing you in a suit. Might even try one of these modern gowns myself..."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I have trouble using a smartphone still..." Ariah says quietly, weighing in on the chat about technology. Another slow, drawn-out drink, even if the alcohol doesn't actually do anything to her now. She sees that look she's given, and gives him an apologetic half-smile. "I would have liked to say I had a choice in the matter. That I did it for the best of reasons. But they would not have let me keep fighting without it. I was a small girl and I still am. My raw talent was not enough. It was after Dunkirk and I had missed my chance to join the revolutionaries. So I accepted. You saw as well as I how effective it was. I would still have the scars if not for my Lady..."

    The joys of regeneration. Her bones bear the scars of the operations but her skin is eerily flawless. The more playful shift on subject, though, earns a return of that smile, even if it's just ghosts of one. "...I look good in white... even if it makes me look like a ghost."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan grumbles and mutters under his breath, "Ah crap. What did I get myself talked into? Well, a suit is goin' take some doin'. I may be short but.. I'm also thick. Sounds like we'll need to make a trip out to a tailor."

He sighs and frowns, "Well, maybe I got some karmic payback for punchin' someone's lights out for what happened to your bones. A few decades ago, I got strapped to a table and had mine coated in molten metal. I've.. ugh... blanked out on a lot of that experience, but I remember some of the pain."

He sips from his glass, "The war... was desperate times. We all did things we ain't proud of. Let things happen we shouldn't of. A lot of evils felt lesser compared to what we were fightin' at the time. Because well, they were. We are fightin' for the soul of the world."

Peggy Carter has posed:
There are many reasons Peggy wanted to sit the two of them down at a table together, but it seems they've stumbled over one of them. Lucky enough to have never been put on an experimental medical table in her life, she says dead quiet now, listening in silent, protective support but not cutting in as they're both actually willing to share. As her foot remains against Logan's ankle, her fingertips reach over and give a gentle bit of a squeeze to the back of Ariah's hand. Just silent, little motions which give some extra support without cutting in on traumas she cannot pretend to understand.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "It made me strong enough, at least in their eyes, to fight for my home... whatever occult Scandinavian or Asgardian book they dug up, they used it on me... and I have no regrets..." Ariah says quietly, though she's staring at the table between herself and Logan now. "My Lady took away the rest of the pain. I chose to accept her Embrace, in the hopes of living beyond the terrors that were wrought. To see if we did make a better world. But the more time goes by, the more it stays the same. The more people like us serve a purpose and continue to be soldiers..." she parts her lips as if exhaling, but she doesn't have the heartbeat, she isn't forcing the organs to work.

    The touch on her hand earns a slight glance, a tilt of the head and she turns her hand over, lacing her fingers with the other woman's and holding on, giving a return squeeze that feels like it might've been tighter than she'd intended to. There's still old scars in spite of her words. They'll never go away. "...would that we could have done more back then. Traded our souls for the world and here we still end up, facing down the same evils..." she shakes her head, then looks up to Logan, and Peggy.

    "It's why we're still here. Colère éternelle... our undying wrath."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan solemnly polishes off his remaining coney dog which is already getting lukewarm as the conversation continues on. He chews and thinks for a moment, jaw worrying over the morsel as he considers his next works.

He swallows and chases with a mouthful of beer. "Now hold up. Just because new evils emerged and old evils have a legacy... doesn't mean we didn't make a difference. Yea, the battle isn't over. Probably never will be, but we fought the good fight. Put a lot of bad people in their graves before they more good people in theirs."

He points a finger at the table and taps. "France is free." Tap. "Britain is free." Tap. "Canada is free." Tap. "The US is free. Ain't none of them perfect, but they are a whole lot better then they'd be if Hitler and Hydra got their way back then. For the sake of all who died, we can't forget that victory and the prices we paid for it."

Crossing his arms, he nods sternly. "But yea, there are new battles to fight. So then..." He raises his pint glass, "To new battles with old allies."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The tight squeeze of Ariah's hand isn't missed. Peggy returns it just as tightly, her warm, quite alive hand happy to be a bedrock when emotions are just a bit too close, even after all these years. Injured or not, it's quietly clear why Peggy always ran such an effective team -- whether it was the howling commandos, early SHIELD, or the crew she's putting together now. She's still got her heart in the game, even 80 years later. She makes certain the waiter is no where near before she murmurs to Ariah, "You might not be breathing, but I think you more than once have proven you still have a soul. Devil lady or not." Dark eyes flicker back to Logan. "Same for you, old man."

Then Logan is getting fired up. Properly passionate about it all and Peggy can't hide the smile that cuts across her lips. Or the bit of heat behind her eyes. This was the Logan she missed, fought with for years, well after the war. Perhaps she's a bit more affectionate for this man than she'd ever admit out loud, but it's in her gaze, for this moment. "...Wisest thing you've said in weeks, Logan. Gained a few brains in your old age." She gives him a bit of a wink and slightly shrugs her arm out of that sling so she can use that hand to grasp her pint glass, raising it to him in a small toast.

"To new battles. We knew we'd never really be done. We wouldn't know what to do with ourselves if we were."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    There's a lot of weight being slung around, the words and the memories. She blinks owlishly at Logan, listening to his impassioned speech, holding on to every word and finally nodding, her free hand taking up her glass as well. She keeps her other in Peggy's grasp, not quite wanting to let go, not just yet. She'd found her again, after all, Logan too. "We yet remain because our work is yet unfinished. To our enemies, old and new, we are just that much harder to kill, oui?" she offers softly.

    Then the toast, a drink, and a quiet sigh. "To new battles... old allies... those we have saved, those we have lost, and those we may yet save..." she nods, then tilts her head, following on Peggy's remark about what they'd be doing with themselves. "...I read and play music..." she muses. When not getting into occult apocalypse scenarios.

Logan Howlett has posed:
The old soldiers seem mollified by the response he got to his impromptu speech. He nurses at his beer then wipes his hands and the glass with a napkin, realizing he was getting coney dog grease everywhere.

"I'll claim the soul, but not the brain cells. Fortunately, ever since my skull became nearly indestructible, I've been holding onto the few I have more." He hums, "Eh, I like to think I've got some morsels of wisdom. Try to impart those on the kids when I can."

"So then fearless leader, you gonna start havin' us meet up more regularly? You finally gonna use some of us 'assets' instead of getting your 'ass' kicked?" He raises an eyebrow, cocking a half-grin at Peggy.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy gives Ariah a sideways glance. "You'd be bored of music in two months." She deadpans to the woman, almost certain she's accurate about that. But Logan is doing that annoying thing of actually having a good point. She levels eyes at him across the rim of her beer glass, still smirking.

"In my defense, this is all from mostly the same mess, just different...aspects of it. And the situation is settled now. Ariah actually helped me clean up the last few threads just two nights ago." She turns her gaze back to Ariah, some wight behind it that almost begs the woman not to elaborate further. No need to describe how in over her head she was when the vampiress got there.

But the little exchange doesn't last long. Peggy's then looking around the room, her expression a touch more paranoid as she mentally notes every single person who is anywhere near them. No one evasdropping, no one that looks out of place. It's like she's weighing whether or not to even speak. Finally, she leans a bit closer to the table, her voice dropping to sotto voce. "Soon. I started going through old SHIELD files. Of the over a dozen ex-HYDRA agents that Operation Paperclip...reintroduced into the scientific community... 3 of their records ended up being saved digitally. The other 11 are missing from all digital record. They'd never see the light of day again if I hadn't actually pulled out old file folders."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I play violin and sing," Ariah states in response to Peggy's words about boredom. She does get around the city and takes her toys with her, after all. She listens to the account of the previous incident, and nods, glancing back to the Agent and only adds a simple few words to describe it. "...nazis taste terrible..." she mutters. Then business talk begins. She goes quiet, and listens, eyes on Peggy as all of her focus is on what's coming.

    When all is done, however, she just gives another simple nod. "...there is work to be done."

Peggy Carter has posed:
As both of them seem to easily catch onto Peggy's implications there, the older woman sighs. "Now, are any of these men still alive? Almost certainly not. Did they all go on to form new cells here? Probably not also. We could be chasing a lot of dead ghosts with no real threat behind them. But..." Peggy takes another, longer drink of her pint. She needs it and another after this week. "I'd put money that a few of them are just like Richter's cell, which we just finished cleaning up. And the fact they are missing from SHIELD's archives..." She grimaces a bit more.

"Steve and Bucky are on board too. They want to do this above board. Report into SHIELD. Cross all our Ts. I...don't know if I trust that right now. So, I've told them about 5 of the missing files. I've kept the other six behind. Just for us. A little...experiment, if you will."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I am on retainer, and I am in the files. But I am on no official roster," Ariah states, nodding understanding. "I am used to being a deniable asset," she adds quietly, though it's hard to tell if the chill in her tone is a hint of bitterness or just how she is normally. "Define experiment, Mademoiselle Carter?" she inquires, taking her time with her drink. It's not the worst thing she's ever put in her mouth, at the very least. Still, this probably isn't the best place to get a good cocktail, either.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Another look is given around the room. Peggy is on edge about all of this, even though they are well out of even regular SHIELD agent, bar go-er territory. She knows how many ears the organization she started has. She waits for the waitress to change out pitchers again and pours them all one last refill, biding her time until she's certain there is no one else in listening distance.

"We try it above board. I got permission from the field director to pick my team and assets, to keep everything else out of SHIELD files other than the barest sketch of plans. If it all goes smoothly, then we know the lack of digital record is probably just someone... someone trying to hide our sins. But if the files I gave to them end up missing again, or...suspects tipped off, or worse. Then..." She looks down to her beer, really not liking the next words she says, "...then there's someone on the inside not exactly sympathetic to our cause."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah glances at Logan, then back to Peggy. "I would assume that Lucky and I are 'assets', as we are not on official rosters, non?" she offers quietly. "Unless you wish to sign one of us on..." she muses. But the further words earn a frown from that otherwise straight face. "That is not an eventuality I wish to consider, but if it is, then there will be further evil to root out at some juncture." She takes the refilled glass and grimaces after downing a good third of it.

    "You may rely on me until I am no longer able to maintain a corporeal form. We have done much together, all of us, and my life I pledge to our cause."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A dry smirk comes in response to Ariah's commentary about them both being assets and Peggy dips her head in affirmation. "I know it doesn't sound pretty, but it's better that way. They don't have strings on you and you don't have to answer a lot of questions about clean up. I'll remain the official contact as I have been...well... For most of both of your careers. Just works out easier this way. Captain America and Lieutenant Barnes are still on SHIELD roster and will be official SHIELD agents for the initial missions."

Ariah's reassurance about being able to rely on her gets one more squeeze of her hand before Peggy gently lets go, to focus on finishing up her beer and perhaps even wave down a tab. Now that she's dropped some heavy information, she's wary about staying her too much longer

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "May I inform my Lady where I will be lest she worry about any extended absences?" Ariah asks, simply, gentle. Blake is in the same state she is with SHIELD, really. Paperwork and wetwork as needed. Beyond that she appears to have no issue being an unlisted asset, as she'd mentioned having been used to it.

    As for the squeeze, she returns it once more and draws her hand back to her lap. Touch is important, a special bond for a vampire in some ways. The little witch is no seductress and she always was distant, especially in combat. Catching the wind-down and maybe a little of the tension, though, she finishes her drink and starts to slip off of the seat. "You have my number. Feel free to share with our mutual acquaintances. I am glad to be on call, as needed, by the old guard."

    She lingers long enough, though, to help with the bill if it comes up, and also to be sure her friends are okay. "I can walk. My other place is not a long trip," she says, implying she has more than one home, and a subtle nod to splitting up and heading out separately in case of any potential follows.

Peggy Carter has posed:
There is a moment of hesitation from Peggy when Ariah asks about Blake. She didn't know the other as well, but still had worked with her over many years. It's the paranoia talking, probably not honest concern. "..Yes. Not the details of any mission, but if you are going to be gone an extended period, you can tell her you're with myself. I suspect your Lady will understand." Peg can swallow back her paranoia long enough to be a decent human being, it seems.

As Ariah picks up on the tension of leaving, Peggy gives her a small smile. She appreciates the shared care taken around all this. She waves them both off the check, happy to cover it herself, even with Logan's coney dogs on there. "No... no. I wanted us all to meet. It's mine." Her dark eyes dare either of them to disagree.

But, once it's settled she echoes that subtle nod of Ariah's, letting them peel off at separate times and in different directions. Probably unnecessary, but none of them were still alive by not being careful.