4517/Old Friends

Old Friends
Date of Scene:	28 December 2020
Location:	McSorley's Pub
Synopsis:	Expecting a quite night at a local pub, two old friends are surprised to discover the other very much alive and in the bloom of youth, some 70+ years after they first met.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Jacqueline Falsworth

---

Peggy Carter has posed:
Any proper Brit knows that the best cure for a bit too much booze is the hair of the dog that bit ya, so Peggy's settled into McSorley's the evening after a bit too much whiskey and other pursuits. She's a bit bruised up and her short, curly bob of hair could probably do with a wash, but she seems content to just hover over a pint of Smithwicks and tune out the rest of the world.

Not that she's all that good at tuning out, too paranoid for it, but she's put herself in the farthest corner booth in attempts to at least avoid the worst of the noise in the place.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
That old style brass bell that so many old world style pubs have rings out as the painted door pushes open and a gust of late December air shivers inside. The woman who steps in is petite, athletic, and bundled up against the damp chill. She wears an old style bomber jacket more commonly seen on Aces during the War, the hood of a red hoodie beneath it drawn up over her blonde hair, a pair of worn jeans and heavy soled boots that lace up to about midway between ankle and knee. Weather appropriate, in other words, and very down-to-earth casual.

It's actually a far cry from the upscale designer wear and business attire that is her normal wardrobe these days. But that's because... Damn it, it's the holiday season, all her friends are overseas or dead, and she's tired of sitting alone in her office or her apartment, staring at the lights over this city she's recently decided to call home. This means finding a proper Pub is in order. One with decent beer on tap and regulars who don't feel the need to pry into a person's history any more than a pint demands.

In other words, it's not modern Lady Jacqueline Falsworth that walks through that door. Nor even her aristocratic grandmother come back as a ghost. It's just Jac, a thirty-something girl from about town in search of a drink and a place to warm up out of the cold between shift and sleep. She steps into the warmth and away from the door, kicking a bit of slush from her soles and pulling gloves from her hands. She pushes back the hood, letting her blond hair fall free, and glances around to let her eyes adjust to the light inside.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peg has had a lot of weirdness in her life, including last night's encounter with a certain demonologist, but it's been a while since things were *this* weird. Dark eyes flicker up from her half drank pint as she hears the bell of the door announcing someone else. She's about to look away, expecting it to be a rather unfamiliar figure, but that expectation is wrong. In fact, the figure is TOO familiar. A familiar impossiblity.

Peggy's staring in open shock for several heartbeats, her eyes not able to really process what they are seeing. Jacqueline Falsworth died in 1995. She read the file. And even then, the last time she saw the woman, she was properly aged and seeing the last of her golden years. But there is an excellent replica of her right there, so Peggy cannot help but gawk a bit.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
Jac moves into the pub, pushing her gloves into her pockets. She weaves her way to the counter and pulls up a stool to await the bartender's attention. It doesn't take long. Her eyes are scanning the menu board. A brow arches. "I'm feeling nostalgic," she tells the man, giving him a smile Peggy may recognize from days gone by -- usually when the woman she remembers was intending to play her way through the evening, away from her parents' proper manners and watchful eyes. "I'll take the Smithwick's."

As he retreats to retrieve a bottle for her, she turns around on the stool to survey her options for the evening. When the man returns with the beer, she smiles to him in thanks, fully intending to use a credit card to settle her tab at the end of the night.

Her eyes take in the regulars, but are eventually drawn to the woman in the corner booth who's staring at her -- mainly because she's staring at her and staring people make the old spy nervous. Then, of course, she registers the woman's features. And... clear surprise flits across her own expression, before she blinks it away, eyes narrowing almost warily in return.

Slowly, she pushes to her feet, collecting her bottle, and approaches the table. "Hate to intrude," she says, her voice even, accent and intonation entirely familiar. "But you look so familiar to me..." She meets Peggy's eyes, not quite challenging. But definitely searching.

Peggy Carter has posed:
As the younger woman starts her way across the old plank floor in Peggy's direction, the brunette doesn't bother looking away or hiding her staring. The look is too close to Spitfire for her to not be connected somehow. As she gets closer, things come into even more detail, making Peggy doubt that this is even some sort of costume, which she initially thought.

"...The feeling is...quite mutual. I don't suppose you are... one of those, I guess they call them 'Cosplayers', nowadays? You've picked a bit of a strange woman to imitate nowadays, but she was quite the lady, so I cannot... entirely disagree." Peggy's voice is the same clipped, smooth accent of her younger days. She really hasn't aged a bit, but then she hadn't in 1985 either. Not until those last few weeks of violent deterioration before they shoved her on ice.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
"I'm no cosplayer," Jacqueline says, gesturing to the empty bench across from Peggy. "May I?" She does wait for permission before she sits -- one last nod to manners. "I'm told I much resemble my grandmother. But I doubt anyone but me remembers her, so..."

She shrugs mildly, and puts an easy smile on her lips before taking a pull of her beer. "Still I could much say the same thing about you. Your manner of dress is... nostalgic." Not vintage. Not retro. Nostalgic. "I had a friend who preferred that style, even when it fell out of fashion. But, as far as I know, she died some years ago."

If the woman's apparent age is anything to go by... Peggy Carter 'died' when this young woman was an infant. Nevertheless, her blue eyes search brown. "I've not had the courage to pull off the style, myself. But you wear it well."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Much as Peggy has been trying her best to figure out where to piece Jacqueline's far too familiar face into things, as the woman gets closer, Peggy will also look far too alike the woman who went into cryo storage in 1985. Even her hair is still in those soft vintage waves and she's wearing the same matte red lipstick she has since the 40s. She's still having a hard time pulling eyes away from those achingly familiar features across the table.

"...Your grandmother wouldn't happen to be Jacqueline Falsworth, hmm? I...did know her very well, once. But she was getting on in years the last time I saw her. I read she died in 1995..." Peggy's voice has an earnest ache behind it as she says that. Jacqueline was on the list of friends she learned died not too long after she returned herself. It's only been six months in her mind, since she started processing the woman's loss.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
"Peggy Carter..." Jacqueline's voice drops to nearly a whisper. It's the manner of speech, the ache in the other woman's voice. That's not something that can be faked. "They told me you died in '85."

She can't maintain the careful subterfuge she's created for the world these past twenty-five years. She has so few friends left. Thus, she reflects Peggy's own emotions right back at her.

She glances down at herself. "I had bit of an adventure." Her tone is at once rueful, warm, and a bit self-deprecating. "Do you remember how fast I used to heal back in the War? Like when we took the airfield at Vaernes?" An air station in Norway the Luftwaffe captured in 1940. "I heal a lot faster, now. It's... had some interesting effects."

Peggy Carter has posed:
As she hears that change of tone in Jacqueline's voice, the drop into the whisper, a familiar lilt that wasn't necessarily there before, shock crosses Peggy's features. "...Jac?" She breathes out, both hopeful and quite confused. A certain wariness crosses her pale face, not willing to dive in to immediately believing at first, but there's definite hope there.

"...And they said you died in 1995. I didn't...die, technically. Was on the way to doing so when they decided to put me on ice instead, incase they could figure out a fix for the cellular degradation I was going through. Which they did... Mostly." Apparently, since she is sitting here, very much her old self, looking healthy and hearty as ever. Her eyes narrow as she tries to piece together anything wrong with what the other woman presents her, but there's nothing. This very much seems her old friend. "And...yes. You often were low on the triage list for that reason alone..."

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
Jacqueline's smile pulls wryly to one side. "I didn't die, either. Oh, I was shot. I was doing a favour for MI-13. Consulting on a case to do with that damnedable cult tha sprang up around my uncle." John Falsworth -- known in World War 2 as Baron Blood, a rather close associate of Himmler and Heydrich, rather than Schmidt. But the man was also indirectly responsible for Jacqueline's abilities, since his attempt to drain her of her blood and turn her into a vampire is what prompted the original Human Torch to give her a blood transfusion that first triggered her mutant abilities.

"They gave me a second transfusion -- just like the first." She snirks audibly, now. "Jumpstarted my mutant genes again. Turned me into an bleeding adolescent. I've spent the last 25 years having to reestablish myself. So, I didn't have a choice. I had to reinvent myself. I presented a fiction to the world, that Lady Jacqueline Falsworth-Critchon had died and presented myself to the world as her granddaughter."

She gives a dry chuckle, and takes a pull from her bottle. "It's been a very long recovery process."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That news gets a still wary look from Peggy, but she's quickly being convinced that yes, this is the woman she knew and cared for over so many years. She's silent for several heartbeats, trying to weigh the likelyhood that someone is trying to trick her with this very elaborate ploy verses the chances that it's actually the woman. Eventually, she settles on it being Jacqueline herself.

Once she makes that conclusion, she abruptly leans across the table and, unless Jac pulls away, she grabs her into a firmly tight hug. Never one previously for great shows of emotion, this occasion seems to call for it in her mind. She holds tight and close, heart thundering against her breastbone for a few moments as she drags in a deep breath of the woman's scent. "It really is you, isn't it?"

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
Jacqueline stiffens at first, surprised in exactly the same way Peggy would have been, were it her instead. But it's hardly half a second before she returns the hug as fiercely. "It is. And I've never been so glad to see a familiar face in all my life."

She holds the hug for a long moment, her own heart strong and glad. But it can't last forever, given each of their natures. Still, when she finally straightens, her body language is far more relaxed than it was when she first came in. It's like she's found a little piece of home so far away from home.

She lets out a long sigh and regards her fried warmly. "Good Lord, aren't we just a complete pair?" There's warmth in her chuckle. "What are you doing now, Peg? Are you still with SHIELD?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The hug doesn't last overly long and Peggy's careful to put herself back together, short hair carefully tucked behind her ears (exposing that line of burn scars down the left side of her face. She hasn't bothered covering them with make up today), and the sweater she wears over her old fashioned wrap dress adjusted. But she's still smiling and warm. Some deeper heat has entered her cheeks as she settles into her seat and motions to the bartender for another set of pints. Even if they haven't quite finished the first.

The question about SHIELD gets a slightly strange look from Peggy. There is more going on there, something that makes her tense and wary, but she dips her head in affirmation. "Yes. Part time, at least. I'm not back to being director and I don't think I'd want it if they offered me. But... I'm back with field work when they need me. I couldn't just sit around and do nothing. What of you?"

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
"Mm," Jacqueline acknowledges what's said and unsaid in those words. Though she does note the odd expression that flits over her friend's face. "Falsworth Industries has opened a new headquarters for the Americas here in New York. So, I've relocated. However, I'm still working closely enough with MI-13 that I've spoken the brass over the Triskellion a couple of times in the past month. I've only been in town since the beginning of the month. Holidays are a hell of a time to move, let me tell you."

MI-13, of course, is the British Military Intelligence Service's answer to SHIELD's WAND division. And, given Jacqueline's unique abilities, it's probably not a surprise that, in her more youthful state, she's still all wrapped up in that.

Her head cants some. "Are you doing alright, Peggy? You rather look like you've been through the ringer a bit yourself." That's the sort of thing old friends can get away with.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Ahh, MI-13. That's no surprise and they're damned lucky to have you. SHIELD is... mostly it's old self. There's some good people in WAND. If they ask you to duck in on something, just... Let me know. I can make certain that everything's in order." That comment definitely has some undertones that there are a few people in SHIELD Peggy doesn't trust working with, much less one of her oldest friends working beside. But she doesn't elaborate further.

The next question gets a look of slight confusion from Peggy, as she's not been in a proper fight herself for quite some time. But then her mind catches up and, suddenly, a rather noticable blush is beginning to creep up her cheeks. "Oh, I... I'm fine. Little hung over from last night but... Nothing out of sorts, you know." She's blushing an awful lot for someone who is simply hung over.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
Jacqueline has seen that sort of blush before. "Ah," she says, a somewhat knowing smirk on her lips. "That's good, then." Her head cants. "So, how'd you get the beauty marks?" Those scars hidden in her hairline. She's noticed them. And she can tell they're not that old. Still a little too pink to have been around for years.

"I'll let you know, the next time I drop in to the Triskelion." She rolls her eyes lightly. "The last time was to help Supergirl against some alternate dimensional Lovecraftian horror. I don't actually think my help was particularly required," nor useful, if she's honest, though she doesn't say that. "But it does grease the wheels between agencies. So, there's no harm in having played nicely with them."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The smirk that Jac is giving her gets even a bit more of a blush. Peggy clears her throat slightly, "He was a... most capable distraction. But I had to be certain he didn't get... too cocky. Think he was in control, you know. But it's been a while since I... Was... so distracted." Peggy admits, still blushing but a little delighted by it all. Even at her age she can enjoy a one night stand here and there. She buries the rest of her blush into a deep gulp of her beer.

The question of scars makes her blink a moment, hand coming up to the side of her face. Then it clicks. The new ones. She has so many they all sometime seem to blend together. "Caught the back end of an explosion I was making certain everyone else got out before it hit. Really wasn't that bad. I was more pissed that I lost a few inches of hair than anything. But it grows." She admits with a little huff. She NEVER wore her hair short, not all her years of life. It looks decent on her, but it's not her long, big curls. Even if she is trying to keep it styled in vintage waves. "And please, do let me know when you are coming by. I'll make a few introductions of those who are... Good to know." The safe ones, that is.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
Jacqueline's eyes sparkle as Peggy reveals telling details about her date. "I can only imagine," she says. It's been years since she's had any such liaisons. Though it hasn't been for lack of opportunity. Just lack of interest in the men that have presented themselves.

Even the most recent of her most would-be suitors doesn't hit the mark with her.

She shakes her head a little at the word of the explosion. It's behaviour she's come to expect from her friend over the years. So, unlike anyone else, she doesn't scold her. She merely wishes she could share some of the rejuvenation in her blood with the other woman.

"I'd welcome those introductions. Most of the personnel I've met there have been quite professional. But I don't think they like me much." She chuckles softly. "Not that it particularly matters, of course. I'm not working for them. And I believe Director Fury and I have something of an understanding."

One that basically is: She'll play nice on behalf of Crown and Country, and he'll just continue to be Fury. Because... yeah. That's Fury.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I've been lucky to find a few acceptable distractions..." And as she thinks them over, she remembers one that might be particularly important. Her eyes go a bit wider and she smiles, "Oh! Howlett is still around, if you didn't know... And Steve... *And* Bucky. It's been lonely but not horribly so, all those gents considered. James is off a lot with some other matters. But they are all still alive and here. We'll have to get you caught up with the boys sometime soon."

Peg really doesn't seem bothered by her scars, but happily content to pass on the issue, no worries about the things which have marked her older body and scars that will linger as long as she breathes. If anything, she seems a bit proud of them. A map of her life.

Jacqueline Falsworth has posed:
Jacqueline smiles at that. "Yes. I at least had heard Steve was still around. I dropped by the Avengers Mansion, hoping I'd catch him, but no such luck." She shakes her head mildly. "The fellow I did bump into seemed nice enough. Certainly he wants to be. But I'd still like to connect with Rogers, if I can."

Still the news about Bucky, and even Howlett, is welcome. In fact, it seems to enliven her some. "This," she says, lifting her bottle. "Is not the evening I had envisioned. I fully expected to get pissed on watery horse urine watching boys play darts or shake each other down at pool, rather than staring out at the skyline with a bottle of Laphroaig." Which doubtlessly speaks to her own loneliness over the years. "I'm glad I choose this place instead."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Jac...I'm about. I generally live in the city, though it's between safehouses now... You can find me. You don't need to be *alone* here." Peggy reassures the other woman gently. She can't even think of Jac as the 'younger' woman, as Peggy does nearly all her current friends. They are practically the same age.

Peg then reaches into her jacket, pulling out a small flip note book and a pen. She still does some things the old fashioned way. She writes down her private, completely personal number and email address. The ones not on the SHIELD system. She folds that paper in half and slides it across the table. "Here. If you need me at all or, even if you just don't want to come to the pub alone. Just call. No reason to go through this whole life staring in from the outside. You've got your youth back. Use it!"

And with that, the women spend the rest of the evening lightly reminsicing on the things they've missed over the last few decades. It's not like it was in the war, but it's close as possible and that alone is a lovely comfort.