4390/New Day, New Challenges

New Day, New Challenges
Date of Scene:	13 December 2020
Location:	Peggy's Appartment, N.Y.C. 1948
Synopsis:	Peggy and May make plans on how to proceed, now that they've finally decided to trust each other.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Melinda May

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Peggy Carter has posed:
It's still fairly early, despite the pair having been up incredibly late. A little before 9 am and Peggy's up, puttering around the kitchen. Tea is on, a few crumpets on the griddle, the morning news paper and her reports from the first wave of information of the SSR. She has them spread out on the too-elegant kitchen dining table, is hovering over the kitchen to flip the crumpets when they are bubbled enough, and has her ear over a phone...

A wired phone. A fairly heavy, french handle styled phone with the base sitting on the counter next to the stove. "No. Howard... I need you... I have all the readings. No. Our machines can't read it, it's your sensor... She said... Tachyons... No, I don't... I just.. You need to be here, Howard. I don't care how pretty she... Yes, I'm sure..." Peggy sighs and flips two crumpets.

Melinda May has posed:
May doesn't emerge from her chosen bedroom until after she's showered and dressed -- mainly out of respect for her hostess. She doesn't really know what the morning ettiquette rules are for the 40's, but she does know that most upper class English object to breakfast in pyjamas, even in 2020. Peggy might not qualify, but it seems best to err on the side of caution in that regard.

Besides, they've got a lot of work ahead of them, today, she knows.

When she does enter the kitchen, she's dressed again in her dark, wide legged trousers, and red, high-collared blouse. It might not be the most common blouse to wear with those trousers, being more Mandarin in style, but she can get away with it, given her heritage. And it covers her tacsuit. She's left the jacket in the bedroom.

She catches the tail end of that conversation and rolls her eyes faintly. Most of the world doesn't know, in 2020, that Tony Stark has finally set aside his roving ways for the woman who was once his PA -- May included. As far she knows? Howard is the prototype upon which the son is modeled.

And neither man is her type.

She waits just inside the doorway until Peggy is off the phone. She hasn't seen a wired model like that in decades, outside of the movies. It actually makes her smile -- albeit a small one.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The moment May comes into the room, Peggy is aware. She's just that sharp, even doing three other things. She looks up from her work and gives May a bit of a smile and a brief nod, before looking back to the stove and continuing on the phone. "Well, we'll figure it out without you, but then you don't get the readings. And she's really quite attractive.. But that's no matter. Goodbye, Howard." Peggy isn't above a little bit of manipulation to her best friend.

She hangs the phone into the cradle a little harder than is probably polite, but then settles it back up onto the counter before turning back to May with a little bit of a huff. "There is food. Water is on for tea. If you prefer coffee, I can..." She looks up to the array of cabinets, only half of which she's used yet but there are more supplies, "Can probably put that together. I know the boys at the office prefer coffee. How did you sleep?" Peggy is chipper and completely put together in her three piece suit already, high waisted pants tucked beneath a tailored vest and oxford shoes carrying her smoothly across the kitchen tile floor.

Melinda May has posed:
"I prefer tea," May assures Peggy. "I'll drink coffee, if there's nothing else, but..." She ends the sentence with a mild shrug. She's Asian. Of course, she prefers tea.

"I slept well enough, all things considered." All things being the fact she's 7 decades away from home and took a bullet to the chest bearly 7 hours ago. "Thank you." She manages to look perplexed for a moment. "Is it just me, though, or is there a picture of Howard Stark in every room of this house?" Her expression suggests she finds it rather creepy.

She moves into the kitchen proper, now. There's a hint of stiffness in the set of her shoulders and the way she holds herself upright. Not the stiffness of reserve, but the stiffness of the morning after the fight before.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Tea it is. Generally gunpowder black in this house, though there is green somewhere..." Peggy doesn't try to assume May will like the other, but just moves to pour another cup of the gunpowder black across a second strainer ball and sets it aside to steep. She pauses in her food preparation to turn and study May, considering how she's feeling. Peggy's favoring her arm just a touch, but is the sort to work through the pain with a careless determination.

"You found the asprin, right? Take more this morning, it will be a long day. And, for god's sake, eat something. We're out of the war, no one's on rations any more." It's like Peggy has given that lecture a dozen times before, or, maybe, is still convincing herself of the fact. She sets a plate of two crumpets in front of the corner of the table nearest May. There's jam and a butter dish on the table.

Melinda May has posed:
"I did, yes, thank you," May says as to the aspirin. She offers Peggy a smile at that to reassure her. "I suggest you do, too. I'm fairly used to working through pain. So, don't worry about me, Agent Carter. It comes with the job." They both know that.

She makes no objection to the black tea. Yes, she prefers green. She's not about to make Peggy to hunting for the other, however. "Black is fine. I don't take anything in it."

She collects the plate of food and takes it over to the table, sitting down to spread both butter and jam on the hot crumpets. The comment about rations makes her pause only slightly. She knows about rationing. She's read about it. But it's hard to remember that's actually a thing these people lived through for so many years. "I don't think I've ever had fresh crumpets before," she admits. "Though, to be fair, my breakfast is usually a muffin and cup of tea from the commissary, so..." Again, that dismissive shrug.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Commissary tea. Horrid." Peggy's nose wrinkles in a way that May has literally watched her nose wrinkle over the TV in the food court at the Triskelion. She has not changed her opinions on SHIELD's (or the SSR's) communal tea in 80 years, that much is clear. Some things are timeless. "This is better. It is not the best, but it's far better than what you get at a commissary. And loads better than the barley shite that pretended to be tea for ages." It's only 3 years since the war. Three years since she lived with rations for five. It's distant history for May but, for Peggy, life is still 'getting back to normal.' Especially being in the US.

She pulls herself two other crumpets off the stove and kills the burner, coming over to the table and helping herself to the butter with motions that can only be called a zest for life. She is not ashamed to warn or love food, especially when they are getting ready to dive into a long day. "Oh, also... the boys brought your Chevy back. Someone wanted to show off and hot wired the thing but...it's out front. They thought they were being polite."

Melinda May has posed:
May actually laughs, partly because of the familiarity of the expression and partly because she agrees. "Well, yes. Commissaries, by definition, are horrid, no matter what they serve. They'd sour the water, if it wasn't bottled. But, trust me, the tea is far superior to the coffee."

She snirks upon hearing the news about her car. "Of course, they did," she says, bearly resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It's in her tone, nonetheless. Whatever. It puts the car more easily within her reach. That's not a bad thing. It may come in handy.

"So..." she eyes her future-friend over her tea cup. "What is the plan for today? Or going forward? You were speaking with Howard Stark, yes?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Yes. Back to the SSR. You need to give a report to myself and Chief Sousa. We're keeping details from most of the crew because we really don't need them to get nosy, but the more information for us the better. Howard..." Peggy sighs, stuffing a big bite of crumpet into her lips instead of saying exactly what is on her tongue, because it wouldn't be polite. But May can probably read it on her face. "Is waist deep in his current... Project." There, that was a slightly more polite way to say that.

"I think he might make it back to the city by this evening, but we are not going to count on him. Which means... figuring it out ourselves. Or, at least, getting your people coordinates and times for the exact future, where we promise you will be in exacting circumstances. Therefore, if they have an idea to fix it, they know they can intercept you."

Melinda May has posed:
May nods slowly to Peggy's overview, giving a brief, wry smile of acknowledgement of just what 'project' may actually mean. "I'm pretty sure, given the letter you intercepted the other night, that they'll get messages from me if I send them through a law firm I recognized here."

She takes a bite of her crumpet and pauses to simply enjoy it for a moment before she adds, "There are a pair of scientists in my time who can complete with the best of them. If anyone can figure this out, they can. The bigger problem is how we get messages from them. Notes tied to rocks aren't the most reliable means of communication."

Then, its a sip of the dark, hot tea, and she lets out a soft breath through her nose that suggests there's some small comfort in it, despite the fact she's still stressed by the entire situation.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"And each time something is thrown through, I feel like it has a risk of... either activating it, making the thing grow, or collapsing it. I do not trust the anomaly in its current state to be stable at all. So, let us try to keep messages from them as sparse as possible." Peggy affirms with a gentle bit of stern worry to her voice. She's not exactly overwhelmed by this all, but she is worried. She's doing her very best to keep control of the situation when she doesn't understand enough of it to truly control anything at all. The worst place for Peggy to be in.

"...Do you need anything else? Some extra money... clothing? Weapons?" Peggy asks between bites of her own breakfast and sips of her tea. She's clearly a woman accustomed to eating and working at the same time.

Melinda May has posed:
May nods to Peggy's comments about the portal. It's been weighing on her mind, too. "I'll send them another message. Tell them to keep communication down to a bare minimum, unless they come up with a way to stabilze the thing. Reserve communication to instructions for their best plan and then see what we can do from this end." It's the only thing she can think of. Her eyes are troubled, but her expression is neutral. All business, really.

She glances up at Peggy as the other woman asks after what more she may need. Her brows rise and a hint of a smile touches her lips. "Mm. No. Unless things cost a lot more here than they appear, I suspect I'm good for a little while. I just need to go back to the rooming house and collect what I've acquired." Her gives a subtle shrug, more a twist of her head and shift of her shoulders. "There's a woman I know in the future. Her grandmother once told me a story about some gangsters who were taken out of business by a ninja sometime in the late 40's... I just... took a chance." Her slight smile twists wryly. "I wasn't sure you were going to help, after all."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"...and I take it that you're the ninja?" Peggy asks with an arched brow. "Did that training come before or after SHIELD? Or is it a part of the academy?" She deadpans those words, but there is a lightness to her eyes that says she's teasing. Probably. A bit of a smile cracks a heartbeat later and she shoves the last piece of crumpet past her still mostly perfect red lips. A bit of the matte has smudged but, over all, Besame is as good these days as it will be 70 years in the future.

She grabs a cloth napkin, quickly dabbing at lips, red nails flashing with the motion. All of her is as put together and prim as any show off Manhattan secretary would be, just in preparation to go off and do spy work. She then stands, "Well, you should still have your keys. You know where the SSR offices are. You don't need a babysitter. Go, collect your things and meet me back." It's a show of remarkable trust, but then Peggy doesn't coddle people either.

Melinda May has posed:
May actually chuckles softly, a dry sound. "A little of both," she says. "I started independent training to fight when I was 12." A beat. "It hurt less than training to be a figure skater." Yeah. That's not a joke, even though she does offer that small smile again. "But the academy's training is very thorough. I, however, am considered to be an advanced specialist, so..." She lets that trail off and shrugs. She'll just let that stand on its own.

She rises as Peggy does, only half a beat after, really. She nods. "It shouldn't take long. Maybe... an hour?" She wrinkles her nose. "Depending on traffic, I guess." She doesn't even know the traffic patterns any more. Except that they're probably lighter.

She gives the contemporary agent another hint of a smile. "Just, eh... tell them not to shoot me when I turn up, hmm?"

Because that would be awkward.

Breakfast done, a loose plan in place, and an immediate task to keep her occupied. It's a start.

"I'll see you soon, Carter."