4376/A Stitch in Time

A Stitch in Time
Date of Scene:	11 December 2020
Location:	Peggy's Apartment, N.Y.C. 1948
Synopsis:	Peggy brings May back to her apartment, where they can tend their wounds and very briefly debrief.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Melinda May
Tinyplot:	Times That Bind

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Peggy Carter has posed:
The large penthouse apartment that Howard Stark gave Peggy and Angie to live in back in '46 is a bit more empty these days, Angie off with her work on Broadway more often than not, but Peggy's still never certain when she'll decide to come back for a night. "...Angie, I've got company if you're here..." Peggy calls into the room, but nothing answers her. Just a big, empty, entirely too posh apartment with cherry wood structures, Oriental silk rugs, velvet lined furniture, and a whole bar car that still has Howard Stark written all over it. Peggy has made a few areas for herself -- a messy desk of work materials in the far corner, her books and newspapers on the coffee table, a pile of high heels near the door, but it's still a strange contrast to her style right now.

She slips out of her heels almost immediately, leaving them near the pile of other T-straps and wedges near the door. Hilariously, Peggy absolutely wears the same kind of shoes nowadays, even if they are somewhat out of style. She's walking a little unevenly, that arm wound desperately needing properly seen to, but instead of going for the bathroom immediately, she moves to put a kettle on in the kitchen. "Home sweet home. There's two guest bedrooms to the left, have your choice. Angie sometimes comes for the nights, but she's the second room on the right. I'm the first. Don't look too deep in any drawers, Howard has been known to... leave things lying about."

Melinda May has posed:
May follows Peggy into the apartment. She has nothing but the clothes on her back, but takes a moment to remove her boots and set them neatly alongside the pile at the door. Then, she shoves off her coat and glances around for a safe place to lay it down. "This is... quite the place," she says finally, following Peggy into the kitchen and folding the coat over the back of a chair. "Angie," she echoes. She nods and smiles. "Yeah, you told me about her once. She used to waitress at the Automat, didn't she?"

This Peggy may not be the friend she knows... but there are commonalities, still.

"That arm needs stitches," she says, once Peggy has the kettle setup. "I can help you with that. I'm assuming going to a clinic or emergency room isn't on the table."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It wasn't really in the plans, no. I'd normally call Jarvis, but... I'd hate to wake him or Ana. If you are good with a needle, I'll trust your hand." After all, she very probably saved Peggy's life tonight. Or, at least, saved Peggy from a miserably long night being interrogated and probably captured by Dottie. Peg owes May a few inches of trust.

She looks up in surprise as the other woman mentions Angie. She definitely hadn't spoken of the woman before, protecting the few friendships she has with ferocity. "Yes. She... did. Hopefully won't need to again, she's made it on the stage for some nominal fame, at least." Peggy stares at May from the archway of the kitchen, the kettle now on and working it's way to a slow boil. "You really do know me in the future, don't you? It seems...rather impossible I'd make it that long. Lifestyle choices aside."

Melinda May has posed:
"It won't be the first time I've stitched someone up," May assures Peggy. "Including myself." Don't all agents eventually learn that trick? She tilts her head at mention of the Jarvises. And then she nods, a small smile on her face. Peggy spoke more about Jarvis himself than his wife as she recalls, but the names have come up in conversation fleetingly.

"I do," she says presently, answering her question about the future. It's a safe question to answer. "Like I said: Medical technology." She taps her chest, where her armour is still visible beneath her dark blouse. "It keeps pace with this stuff. You... are going to lead a very remarkable life, Agent Carter. I wish I could tell you about it."

Peggy Carter has posed:
As May taps her chest, Peggy's face pinches with a bit more concern, "And how are *you* feeling? You took a bullet point blank. Even with your technology... I've got asprin, if you want. Maybe something harder. Or a lot of booze. Howard left plenty of booze in this place." Peg steps over to her quickly, looking up and down Melinda's body to see if there's any other injuries she missed, even though she's the one still bleeding.

"And no. No... more about my life. It will be what it is. We have most likely already changed things. As curious as I am..." Peggy exhales slowly, that sharp mind of her's desperate to save as many lives as possible by asking the right questions. But she's logiced this out before. She risks killing so many others. "...the risk is not worth it. I'll get the first aid kit." And then she's disappearing into the bathroom, coming back with the neat green leather, WWII first aid kit, stocked with a few fancier things ala Jarvis. But she's kept most of the old packaging. It works.

Melinda May has posed:
"Asprin would be good," May agrees, rolling her shoulders. "I feel like I was hit by--" The Hulk. "A delivery truck." There's some bruising on her face where Dottie got in a couple of lucky (skilled) strikes. And her lower lip has a small split in it that can likely be disguised by makeup later -- or attributed to winter chapping. But nothing that will last longer than a few days at worst. Still, her body is stiff and she knows she's going to feel every one of those body hits come morning. The armour reduces some of the impact and is very good at absorbing ballistic energy and minimizing the likelihood of piercing damage. But that doesn't mean she doesn't still get bruises and feel pain.

She debates the booze. Ultimately, though, unless Peggy pulls it out for herself, she decides it's already nearly 3am and she needs steady hands to sew the stitches. A strange look passes over her face as she realizes she's probably seen the scar this is going to leave on her friend's skin before... but just never really paid it any mind.

When Peggy finally presents her with the first aid kit, she spends a few moments familiarizing herself with the unfamiliar packaging before she sets to work disinfecting the wound before she can stitch it up.

"I suspect we really need to get that site locked down," she notes as she works -- partly to distract Peggy from the pain. "If there are any other agents out there as good as Underwood, it's open season."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Things aren't in the single use, pre-sterilized packages of modern day. There's a case of needles and a bottle of iodine to disinfect everything, but that's about it. Peggy's already carefully unwrapping her arm and starting to sluice on that ugly brown liquid to get the wound as clean as possible. Yes, it hurts. Her features pinch a bit as she works over her arm, but she can handle the pain. She's had far wors before.

Once her arm is clean enough, she pulls out the bottle of asprin and slides it in May's direction, laying her elbow on the table and unfolding arm so the woman can have a steady, solid surface to work on. She doesn't bother looking at the stitches, that will only make it hurt worst, but keeps up the casual conversation as they go. "Ironically... and I hate to say it, there is no one else as good as Underwood. If we visibly lock down the site more, it will draw far more attention than it's getting right now. But I'm going to put a few more of my boys on concealed patrol around the clock starting tomorrow morning. We can, at least, keep eyes on it better without flagging to the whole world something is going on."

She considers that a few heartbeats, dark eyes flickering to the clock, before she adds, "Actually. I'll call in the orders tonight. I suspect we both deserve a bit of a lay in tomorrow."

Melinda May has posed:
May won't argue with Peggy on that. "Yeah. Those Red Room girls don't mess around." Which probably inadvertently suggests that Dottie's not the first May's met in her life, even if Peggy's not had the pleasure of encountering another *adult* operative. She keeps her stitches small and precise, which is characteristic of her in general, being careful not to dig any more deeply into the flesh with her needle than she has to.

"I should probably collect my things from the room I rented," she says after a moment or two of thought. "I really don't want to change any more history than I already have." She glances up to her nascent friend briefly between stitches. "I've left a car out at the plant, too. Your boys may find it, if they do a closer patrol."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Description of car? I'll tell them to keep eyes on it, but let it be. We'll go back for it once we're up in the morning and you can get things from your rooms. I'll settle on a better observation schedule and see if I can chase Howard down about the sensor readings." Peggy's eyes turn back towards May, studying the older woman quietly for several heartbeats of silence, while she lets the woman focus on stitching up her arm.

"Handwriting analysis came back, though... Even the experts say that yes, I wrote that note. I suspect whatever Howard finds will just... confirm this all. Then we need to get minds on how to reverse it all. I'm hoping he'll focus enough to actually help us brain storm through this, but I am almost reluctant to put you both in a room together. He will both hit on you and try to get information about the future out of that head of yours. I know him. He's incorrigable." Peggy says this in a way which is trying to sound incredibly annoyed but can't hide how fond of him she is either.

Melinda May has posed:
May actually laughs at that. "He's a Stark," she says. "He can't help himself." Either with women or technology. She doesn't bother saying that she knows he'll settle down eventually. Peggy has already seen nominal proof Howard will have a son. So, theoretically, he *must* settle down sometime. May shakes her head. "Don't worry. I can handle myself. I'm very good at keeping my mouth shut." The comment amuses her somehow, though that amusement is only hinted at by a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

In any case, Howard Stark holds no alure for her, anyway. No more than his son does -- not that she's well acquainted with him, either.

"The car's a green chevvy." She rattles off the plate number and sets about neatly tying off the stitches she's made before she picks up a cloth to gently clean the stained skin around the outside of the wound.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The comment about him being a Stark definitely draws a curious look. Is his heir just as notorious? Peggy studies her curious for a moment, but lets May finish stitching up that wound, before Peggy smoothly stands from the table, only slightly catching herself on the edge as the room swims a moment. "We... can plan more in the morning. Go, find yourself a bed and a bit more asprin. I'm going to wash up and make that phonecall to the night desk. Green chevy. It won't be touched."

She then steps back to the kitchen, killing the tea before they've had the time to drink it. Sleep seems more important right now. Once that is off, she steps back and gives the woman one last look. "And...Agent May? Thank you... for your service. I can see how valuable you'd be to any time. We'll get you back to yours soon. I promise." With that little hint of reassurance, Peggy disappears down to the right hand hallway.