4757/Times that Bind: Epilogue

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Times that Bind: Epilogue
Date of Scene: 18 January 2021
Location: Swordfish Bar (SHIELD)
Synopsis: The best of SHIELD gather at the SWORDFISH to welcome Agent May back to the present. Cake is had. Whiskey and shots. And a very surprising hologram.
Cast of Characters: Melinda May, Bobbi Morse, Peggy Carter, Jane Foster, John Constantine, Lance Hunter, Daisy Johnson, Jack Nolan, Lara Croft, Phil Coulson, Leopold Fitz, Nick Fury
Tinyplot: Times That Bind

Melinda May has posed:
It's been a day or two since the Battle of the Mojave. May has sat through being poked and proded by Medical, she's sat through debriefs and had the opportunity to get at least an overview of what happened to her friends while she was 'vacationing' in 1948/49. She fully intends to read through all the AARs, later. After she's written her own.

More importantly, she's had a shower in her own shower and a sleep in her own bed. That was a little slice of heaven, righ there.

Now, she sits in a corner booth in the SWORDFISH, with a tall, dark pint of ale and bottle of Haig on a tray with a cluster of tumblers. There's also, perhaps surprisingly, a chocolate cake there. She won't promise it's edible -- no matter that the recipe's originator swore it was foolproof.

She promised a whole bunch of people the first round would be on her, tonight. And so it will be. The whiskey and cake are just bonuses... traditions of a small group of people no one's seen altogether in one place since... Well... nigh on 70 years.

It seems fitting to her, somehow. She knows she won't be alone in that sentiment.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi feels yet another buzzing against her thigh. She sighs and pauses in the walk in to the Swordfish to take it out. Another three messages from Fury. He can't get enough of following up on her report to him about the entire operation to recover May. She should feel a sense of accomplishment, but instead she simply feels exhausted.

    She says to Lance, "One moment, Fury doesn't like it if I don't reply as soon as he's seen I've read it." She begins to type type type furious even as she enters the Swordfish. "Done," she says and puts the tablet back again. "The man that spies on the world has no boundaries, go figure," she says with a smirk.

    This was originally May's operation but became hers.. this wasn't about her, this was about May and finally getting her home. Still, the entire business raised all kinds of questions in her mind about how time travel works. If they changed something, would they even know?

    Dressed in a loose fit business suit - pants, jacket, a red blouse and her hair down. She is officially ready for some whisky. "The techs think it'll take a few days to fix all the parts that got melted on my wings," she casually reminds Lance that she has wings and she hadn't even told him about it before he saw them in action on the battle field.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy's a little late for no clear explanation. But she promised she was going to be there and, a few minutes past the start time, the grand dame of SHIELD steps into the place that used to be her offices. It's still a little odd coming through those doors. She's wearing her usual fashion, but something a bit heavier made than the modern fast fashion retro remakes. It's a dress that either came from the 40s and has survived, or was remade in the exact tailored style of the era.

A deep emerald color with lattice work across her decollatage and then an emerald band of fabric at her collar and sleeves, the piece is a bit more fancy than regular office wear. She's got emerald and cream T-strap heels on and her hair is back into it's normal vintage waves. She's got a fresh coat of make up on -- fresher than would have been from the start of the day. Maybe she just wanted to look her best for the event?

She also has a brown bag of take out food with her and, after giving the room a little glance and a small nod, the older woman steps up in May's direction, setting the bag down in front of her. "Screw any issue with outside food. From your favourite place. Soup dumplings, a smattering of other dim sum offerings. Share if you want. But that's yours. Welcome home." She gives Bobbi a friendly smile and a respectful nod. "Boss."

Jane Foster has posed:
A promise of a round of drinks usually wins over the toughest crowd, and Jane's not exactly tough to cajole out from behind an increasingly elaborate array. Giving up wrenches and wiring tools for a pint glass sounds like the way to go. Anything to stop peering at monitors and staring into the various details that speak to temporal oddities or all kinds of strangeness engulfing her fellow agents. Those AARs are going to be entirely pored over when she has the chance. But better to get out of the office, away from data everywhere.

A brief pause follows as she pushes open the door to the Swordfish, wrapped up in a sleek parka and fur-haloed hood to keep the cold at bay. Doesn't matter, this is cold, as she blows into her hands and attempts to flex her fingers. Gloves would be wise, but they're in her pocket. A phone, also wise, but stuffed away in another coat pocket.

"They should -ban- Januaries this cold. Entirely."

John Constantine has posed:
How John got access-- or who gave it to him-- is anyone's guess. The newest 'consultant' for SHIELD's magical division is has a peculiar sort of status. Virtually unknown by the company at large, with a decidedly mixed bag of a reputation from some of the UK's representation in SHIELD. He's either a drunken vagabond or a dangerous ally. Probably a bit of both. It's explain how he conned someone into telling him where the Swordfish bar was, and how he got the password into it.

The sole credit he might have is that Agent Carter vouched him into the consultant's position. How that will work out for her, though, is up in the air.

He's not dressed up, or dressed down. Just dressed like an errant mortician, black suit, pencil tie worn loose around the neck, old tan trenchcoat. It's the sort of suit one buys in bulk from Walmart, though at least it's been tailored to fit him so he's not simply swimming in cheap fabric. Constantine digs a pack of cigarettes loose from his pocket and lights up with a deeply engraved Zippo, taking a few seconds to case the room before he commits to move into any specific direction.

Lance Hunter has posed:
Hunter is dressed far more casually than Bobbi, (big shock there) t-shirt, jeans and a close fitting leather jacket. He rolls his eyes as Fury texts again. "Right? If he wants to keep bugging you he should at least have the decency to come down and pay for a round," Hunter complains good naturedly about Fury and his constant pestering. The mention of the wings gets a laugh and a shake of his head, "That's it, new rule, every mention of those bloody wings you owe me a pint," he says with a smirk. "Just knew you'd be insufferable about the things."

Nods are given to familiar faces all around as he and Bobbi make their way fully inside the bar.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
The Furiae known as Daisy has arrived a while back already... Much to her chagrin.. For the benign and mysterious bartender had already set a few shot glasses on the table. One for each agent on that last mission she was in? Oh, great... It was suspicious enough, but those were the instructions of certain other Agents the next time she was at the Swordfish. Some tradition. Bah! She is on her second when she looks at the glasses with a small frown. "Hey, hold up, E. I am not drinking one for the Punisher! I want a recount of this." she tells him, waving a finger in his direction, "I will be back when these are right." she tells the rather patient bartender, turning to look as others start to flock in.

One hand raises up in a greet to the growing crowd. "Heya, guys!" she greets in a general manner, starting to wander closer.

"Of all the things. A cake?" This she asks of a May. If this was the real May... Because a cake made it very suspicious! Time travels ..., pfftt.. But she grins wide at the older agent. "It's good to have you back."

As for dress code.. Jeans, a sweater. The leather jacket left on a chair by the bar. All very casual.

Jack Nolan has posed:
Do you know how hard it is to find clothes when you look like Jack Nolan does? Everything has to be custom fitted. You can't just go to a Walmart and grab something off a rack. And even if he could he'd get screamed at about being a monster the entire time he was trying to shop.

Thankfully SHIELD knows some good tailors, so Jack has been able to get a decent set of clothes perfectly designed for his rather unique shape. He's wearing a more casual getup at the moment, with a hoodie and jeans and a t-shirt under the hoodie. Even though cold doesn't really bother him, sometimes it pays to dress the part.

Once inside, he rises up to his full height, "I swear I'm never going to get used to ducking my way through doors." He mutters to himself, heading towards the bar proper to find himself a place to sit.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara is already in the bar, in a corner, wearing a black leather jacket over a slim fit black turtleneck sweater, grey pants and leather boots. Her hair tied in to a bun at the base of her, the bangs are left loose to frame her face. Her eyes are down on a phone on the table in front of her and her hand is around the base of a fresh drink. She'd only been here for a matter of minutes, but was at least in the early stages of settling in as she glances up to the others coming, going, or equally enjoying the atmosphere of the lovely bar atmosphere.

Phil Coulson has posed:
As the door opens again, Phil steps inside, steps a little slow as he looks around the room. He heads further towards the others, offering them a nod and a smile. "A good crowd, I see," he offers, rather lightly.

Melinda May has posed:
May arches a brow as that brown paper back is deposited before her. She peeks inside the bag and, as beautiful scents of home waft out, she actually flashes Peggy a grin. "Thank you," she says, genuinely touched by the gesture.

She's dressed casually. Black jeans, a dark green top, a stylish black leather jacket... boots. So very NOT forties. And she's so glad of that. How Peggy stands it, she still doesn't understand.

Her attention to turns to Daisy as the younger agent greets her. She gives her a smaller smile than the one she gave Peggy. "A cake... is traditional," she says, perhaps a little stiffly. Not reprovingly, by any means. More... awkward. "And I don't promise that it's good."

If it is, though, all the credit belongs to legendary SHIELD agent 'Shotgun' Rose Roberts. If it isn't? That's all on May.

As the rest trickle in and the business of the bar picks up, May reaches out to crack that bottle of Haig and starts pouring whiskey into tumblers. "Eat the cake at your own risk," she warns them. "If you don't want the whiskey, that's fine. More for me. Other than that? Job well done, people. Thank you."

And that's as much of a speech as she's willing to give. Anything else, you'll have to work for.

She pushes the cake knife, handle first, in Peggy's direction. "You cut it." She doesn't want to.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi grins to Peggy, "Boss? Peggy I have no idea how you ran SHIELD for all those years. One little time catastrophe mission and I'm thoroughly exhausted." She smiles and approaches the bar eyeing the row of drinks for Daisy and nods her head, "Ayup. You have no one to blame but your own heroics Daisy."

    Hearing Jane complain about the cold she turns and brings a waiting whisky to her lips and says, "There's a jungle survival course I can sign you up for. Three weeks in the amazon with nothing but a basic survival kit. Very warm, you can do it any time of the year - definitely during winter. Interested?" So far none of the younger agents have taken her up on these advanced courses. Not that she runs it, she just really enjoyed it when she did it.

    "Lance, he has eyes and ears everywhere, quite literally, don't tempt the man or he'll appear. You've never seen him when he's off duty.." she says and her eyes widen. She's joking right? "Besides, you don't get to make new rules until you give me New Zealand."

    She offers her tumbler to May and says, "Welcome home May. We all missed you. Hearing just a voice... _and several others_ ...over a phone just isn't the same." Were the conversations recorded and transcribed and reviewed by Morse? You betcha.

    Saying quietly to Lance as she eyes the chocolate cake, "You try it. I've never known May to bake.. ever." So much trust.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Did I hear dim sum from my darling... Agent Carter?" Another word strains to come to the fore, curbed by habit, and Jane brightens by tones. An appreciative smile widens at that woman in rich green, though zeroing in on the bag wrests her attention away. "I can expect Darcy to show up any time with the stolen goods of our favourite uptown patisserie, but traffic has her caught up. Apparently something about a street blocked off." The woeful treble of a chuckle follows as she waves to the others, shrugging out of that heavy, puffy coat to reveal a woman of much lighter, gentler stature. "My contributions for the price of a story and good timing."

She spends a few moments slinging her coat over a barstool and swinging over towards Daisy, since the Furiae are a group plural, and missing one of them would be a lonely time. "I don't know if we can pull Jems out, by hopefully. Your return," this spoken to May, "is the best knews we've had all week."

Starry earrings swing from her ears, bright against the fitted ultramarine sweater that threatens to dip off the slope of her shoulder and bare a chrome ring pulled flat by taut straps. "Remind me, Daisy, about spiked coffee later. Because that might be the perfect thing to go with that." She doesn't say much more, perking to the whiskey and the cake. Once more she will come round to it, but Bobbi proves a distraction and she laughs. "Jungle survival? I'm from a temperate rainforest, trees are my friends. Lianas and poison dart frogs are another matter, but I can take it up."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Things are filling up. Almost a dozen familiar faces, but not the faces Peggy used to see in this place. For several moments, the older woman is silent, staring out over the crowd, seemingly lost somewhere out. It's the gaze of a woman who is seeing decades in seconds, especially as she smells that cake in front of May. "...Rose's recipe?" She asks softly, recognizing it anywhere, even after all these years. She blinks a moment, shoving away any glassiness in her eyes and the momentary disassocation that comes with too many decades of history, especially in this place.

The sight of Constantine in the back of the crowd gets a vaguely surprised double take. Peg certainly doesn't run over to him, but she's taken note of his presence and, if May is particularly keen today, she might notice the very faintest touch of heat at Peggy's cheeks.

The offering of the cake knife is a good distraction, even if that means she's going to have a nosefull of that scent she hasn't experienced in at least 50 years. she reaches down with a wry smile, "I can't believe you made it. I should have made this for YOU, but Rose never gave up her recipes. You...you're something special." Peggy reaches over, carefully starting to cut into the rich, moist cake. She's making slices fairly slim so everyone can get a taste who wants one. "It's Rose's recipe. You ALL try it. This is SHIELD tradition and, I'm fairly certain, foolproof."

She smiles up to Bobbi, her expression going a little wry as the woman comments on her doing it all those years. She gives a slight shrug, no really good explanation in turn other than a quiet, "We just did what needed to be done..." For 40 years, until they put her on ice. Peggy starts dishing out cake for anyone who seems interested.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"You're joking right?" Hunter says to Bobbi a look of concern crossing his features. "He's not really going to show up is he?" he asks of their usually elusive Director. As for the cake he looks back at Bobbi when she suggests he be the one to try it. "Which of us has the healing factor?" he asks her, before adding quickly to May, "Welcome back, I'm sure it's good," then happily helps himself to one of those glasses of whiskey.

Taking a sip he nods to the bartender spotting the shots lined up for Daisy. "Make sure she does 'em all, E, even for the Punisher."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Dibs on a slice when you start cutting!" Daisy replies, grinning through the smaller smile and the stiffer greeting. She had downed two shots already! She was ready to face anything! Even Cavalry's wrath. As for the whiskey.., no need to push her luck just yeeeet.

But the crowd is gathering so her eyes go to Bobbi and Lance next when they approach. "Hey hey. So ..." and her eyes settle on Lance. "What did you think on those wings?" really?! Guess that will be a trend topic for a while. No rest. But Daisy seems to know what she is doing, a wicked little smile on her lips. "They are sweet, we got them off alien tech a while back... Also, which one of you had *that* idea?" she nodding her head towards the bar and the row of drinks for her...

To Jane she grins and leans in to whisper as if they were in some sort of conspiracy. "I have smuggled goods." she tells her, "For FitzSimmons. Bribes for them to be here..." would anyone expect anything else out of the Bringer of Food? "So hopefully one or the other will be here. But it's great to have you around. Though .., spiked coffee..?" she quirks a brow up at Jane curiously.

"AC!" One of the few that gets away with calling Coulson that! "May has cake."

Melinda May has posed:
"If anyone touches my dim sum," May warns, pulling that dim sum bag towards her, and eyeing Jane warily, "I will break their fingers." She loves these people. Really. But she's got her priorities and she'll defend them to the death. She's the Cavalry. Don't think she won't. "But thank you." For the kind words.

The look May gives Bobbi, however, when she implies that those transmissions were recorded is one of pure innocense. "No, they weren't," she agrees. "It's good to see you, too, Bobbi." Good to see everyone.

She glances up to Peggy at the soft question. She nods simply. "It better be foolproof," she mutters. "Or I will never live this down." Her eyes linger on Peggy for a moment, brows dipping faintly at the... blush? She follows Peggy's gaze.

Oh, come on! Not the scruffy bastard! "Don't tell me you're slumming," she grumbles.

But then there's cake. May takes one of the pieces and a small fork. And she catches the glassiness in Peggy's eyes, the sentiment there. She looks down at the cake. That way, no one has to see her own eyes.

She is the Ice Queen of SHIELD. Let's not ruin that rep entirely on one good night, okay?

John Constantine has posed:
Constantine spots Peggy's look to him, then the pointedly 'not-looking-at-him'. There are a couple of familiar faces here; Lara Croft, sitting at her own at one of the tables, and Melinda May of course is not a stranger.

He's antagonized her more than a little on some pick-up missions involving that particular Agent of SHIELD.

"Lady Croft, as I live an' breathe," John quips, and gives the leg of Lara's chair a nudge with the point of his toe in passing. Without waiting for permission he hooks a seat out across from her and drops into the chair with a lazy slouch. Cigarette smoke whispers out his nose and he grins at the aristocrat. "Surprised to see you slumming it here," he informs her. "Special occasion, or are you playing the social animal today?"

Jack Nolan has posed:
"I'll definitely give the cake a try." Jack says, as he wanders over towards the group and the food, "And there's no way I'm turning down whiskey, even if I'm not even sure if I can get drunk anymore." He taps the side of his head with a thunk, "Glad you made it back in one piece, Agent May. I'm sure you've got some stories to tell. Though we might need some sodium pentothal to get them out of you."

He grabs one of the glasses, carefully, and then downs it in one quick go.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
All things considered Fitz feels like he has a pretty good routine. Until such a time as he finds a way to get approval for keeping a cot in the lab he wakes up in his quarters and makes a beeline for the lab -- perhaps stopping to pick up a cup of tea and maybe, just maybe something to eat. And then he seals himself in the lab until such a time as some decides to do their best to shame him into grabbing something to eat. Then more lab time until he is on the verge of passing out. And finally a couple of hours of sleep. And occasionally he gets a field assignment that requires him to go off site. Sometimes he goes with enthusiastic interest -- unless the weather is too cold or hot or the chances of bodily harm seem especially great -- and sometimes it is with a lot of muttered complaints.

Needless to say, frequent stops in at the Swordfish are not usually on the agenda. But even Fitz can make the occasional exception to the everyday, average routine when it seems appropriate. And it does in this case. They literally helped someone travel through time. That, in Fitz's extimation, is unsurprisingly pretty awesome. So here he is, ready to celebrate that particular feat.

Also, he heard that there would be food. Quite a bit of it. If he plays his cards right he might be good for the next couple of days.

Even still, Agent Fitz arrives on a pair of crutches, his wounded leg pretty heavily bandaged and kept a few inchs off the ground as he oh so manfully manages his way in amongst the crowd. He hardly even winces when he almost, almost grazes it against a nearby table.

Yup, Field Agent Fitz is formidable.

Nick Fury has posed:
    A part of the wall opens and slides out of the way and standing behind it: Director Fury. Black eyepatch over his eye and a turtle neck sweater, tactical pants. His arms folded, he gives a nod to the mysterious bald bartender who taps loudly on a glass to get everyones attention.

    "Hello - everybody," Fury says and walks across the room to May. He picks up one of the tumblers and says, "I am relieved you have returned to us Agent May." He holds up the glass and says, "To the Agents we get back - and the Agents we don't. SHIELD is a family, we will never give up on you. To Agent May. Salute." He knocks back the tumbler of whisky and then says, "Enjoy yourselves, please."

    He looks back to May and says quietly, "You made good of a bad situation. If you need time off, a change of scenery, you know where my office is." He offers his hand to May to shake it and smiles. She's been through a greater trial by fire than most agents ever would. She's stepped firmly in to the weird and walked away.

    The mysterious bald bartender turns the music back on.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes were roaming over the faces in the bar when John's approach took her attention and she recognized him quickly. "Mister Constantine." She syas softly to him, as she watches him sit across from her. She sits up a little straighter in her seat and holds a light smile. "I'm... not the best... a socializing." She replies. "I don't know if you knew that or not. But, I am happy to have a very important person back safely, so I thought I'd pay my respects by... haunting this place for a small spell?" She says it with a bit of uncertainty to her British-flavored words. "I'd say 'Pay my Respects' but that sounds like what you say at a funeral, which seems ... rather of poor taste."

She smirks faintly yet still. "And yourself? I've been told 'slumming it' is something you're quite apt at." She teases then.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    "I don't know how well my healing factor handles food poisoning," she jokes to Lance as she accepts a slice of the chocolate cake regardless. Though her expression brightens when Jane says she's interested. "Wonderful! It's a little like orienteering. You are dropped off in a starting place and need to get to a destination within a certain amount of time to pass the course. Then you're certified for jungle survival missions."

    Bobbi laughs a moment as Daisy ribs Lance. This is a war she just started that she is not prepared for.. but she'll learn. "The drinks? from the early 90s, before my time. May be May would know. If you want to see a funny facial expression you should tell Peggy what you're doing and why..." She raises an eyebrow of challenge.

    Bobbi takes a bite in to the cake and pauses, tastes, swallows.. then eats more. "Damn May. You actually made this yourself?," she says in wonder and then wipes her mouth as Fury makes his entrance. She lifts up her tumbler of whisky and repeats his salute. She whispers to Lance, "See what you've done?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"Bribes of food seem to be the way. And since the idea of dim sum sounds delightful, I'm going to have to go out and find the next best thing to one of those food delivery services." Jane already has her phone fished out of her pocket, flicking quickly through the screens after awakening it from the torpid slumber of the digitally damned. Or something like that.

She tilts her head to the others, listening with half a mind for converstaions ebbing and flowing, but that slight trace of a smile slips awya with concentration marked on her brow.

With a cheerful nudge to Bobbi, she is about to say something until... well, that's the director. The sort of pause that antelope spotted by lion on the savannah gets twists and flows into motionlessness, at least for a second or two. She's quick to return to tapping on that screen, and shakes her head at Bobbi. "We can talk about it later. No reason to make a distraction." Already have one of those, and the distraction in question is coming up. Snatching her coat up, she tucks it under her arm. "Best I go intercept the pastries from Darcy and any other delivery service. No need to attract their attention." With that, she's out.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A levelled look is given towards May, "I am *not* slumming it. Even I need to let off steam on occasion. He's a useful... steam reliever." Peggy states with as neutral and dismissing a tone as possible. There is no way she's actually fond of someone like Constantine -- surely not! She gives her friend a smirk and shoves one of the pieces of cake in front of her, "Eat your cake and enjoy cellphones again." She deadpan teases May.

Phil and Fitz are both given nods as they come in, though a slightly warmer smile crosses her lips to see Fitz and she looks down to his leg, curious concern across her face. It must not be so bad for him to me up and around, even if on crutches. "Glad to see you on your feet, Fitz... have cake and get back off them!" She calls to the younger scientist. Then she's looking over to Daisy and Lance, a very pointedly curious stare given from dark eyes. "...what are you doing now?" Oh yes, she's curious and very little gets past her.

Then there's Nick Fury. Her head turns, both brows up. She doesn't move to greet or swarm him, nor does she look entirely intimidated or shocked. The older woman stares at the man, the one she remembers as a far younger agent, and just studies him as he speaks. A single, quiet nod is given in his direction, the first time she's really laid eyes on the man since she came back.

Phil Coulson has posed:
Phil Coulson pauses as he listens, especially at the mention of the cake. "What? Cake?" It's offered with a grin as he looks to the mentioned cake, and also to the whisky. He looks about to say something more, but then at Fury's entrance, he offers the man a nod and a smile.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"Not you too," Lance groans as Daisy brings up the wings. "Fitz, you're going to need to make me some wings mate," he says with a grin to the engineer before taking in the crutches. "You know when you're all healed up." Then looking back to Daisy he says, "Don't look at me, it's tradition," he nods to Bobbi when she fills in more of the details. "All I did was remind E about it," he grins at Daisy. As for the stare from Peggy he looks to Daisy. "All on you, Dais," he says leaving the younger agent holding the bag.

For his part Lance does try the cake as well only to stop mid way to his mouth when Fury walks in. "Not my fault," he exclaims in a whisper to Bobbi. Though he does fall silent for Fury's speech only to comment to Bobbi afterwards. "Thought he was going to start singing Rick Astley with all the we'll never give up on you business," he says before glancing in Fury's direction to make sure he didn't hear him.

Melinda May has posed:
"Thanks, Nolan," May says to Jack, tipping her glass slightly his way. "And, no. You probably don't have the interrogation skills to get me to spill my guts. About anything." She says it good naturedly, though. There aren't many in this room with high enough skills for that. There may be two or three, though.

May's life has been nothing but weird for years now. Between chasing 0-8-4s, hunting down Welcome Wagon invitees, Bahrain, Loki's invasion of New York, all that crazy magic shit earlier in the year, and now this? Yeah... She simply takes Fury's hand, perhaps not as surprised as some others that he'd show up here. "Thank you, sir," she says, raising a glass in her other hand. "I may take you up on that," she admits. "But not today." Nono. A return to routine is much appreciated. Anything that will let her hit things again.

As the cake is deemed not just edible, but good, the agent allows herself another, small smile. "Shotgun Rose," she tells the surrounding agents. "I not only met her. I was given her recipe book." She looks entirely too smug for a moment. "Foxy Heat. Chief Sousa. And this one when she was still a wet-behind-the-ears kid." She thumbs in Peggy's direction, giving her a sidelong glance to watch her reaction as she does. She doesn't actually think young Peggy was wet-behind-the-ears by any stretch. But it's fun to poke.

She does chuckle softly, though, at the comment about letting off steam. "Yeah," she says quietly to her friend. "I've been there. Even so... He's a cocky bastard."

Then, she glances to Fitz. "Hey, Fitz. How's the leg?"

She pushes a plate Phil's way. "Cake. Apparently, it doesn't suck." It's a miracle.

John Constantine has posed:
"Dragged myself out of the gutter and everything to get here," John tells Lara with an agreeable tone. "Heard that there was an open bar. That's all I needed to know. Nice place, too, sort of bar where you're not likely to catch a broken beer bottle to the ribs.

Across the room there's an interval where Peggy and May both are looking at him at the same time. Well, Peggy's looking. May's ... glaring? Somewhere in that zone? Unrepentant, John grins at them both. He's quiet while Fury's giving his speech, staring at the spymaster with a bluntly assessing gaze that a more well-educated person probably wouldn't use on the one-eyed man.

After Fury leaves, John looks back to Lara. "So you're just here to make an appearance, I can understand that," he says. His Liverpool accent's a bit of a contrast to her more cultured tones. "Are you working for SHIELD full time then? I got this shiny consultant badge now." John flashes the laminated ID card with his picture on it. "Means fuckall as far as I know, but it gets me through the front doors." There are no convenient trays so John empties out his glass of whisky and taps a little ash from his cigarette onto the rattling ice. It smoulders, then dies with a wet hiss.

Nick Fury has posed:
    Fury returns the nods to the Agents he has known for a very long time. Some are still new to him but he takes interest in all the agents. "Shotgun Rose, Foxy Heat, Chief Sousa? The O.G. SHIELD," Fury sounds impressed and looks it, "I had a calendar with them in it when I was a probie." May took the quick way back to 2021. Peggy went the long way. He smiles to her and nods, then makes his way over to her.

    "Peggy. I'm glad Morse got my message to you. We have a lot to discuss. Come by my office this week. I have concerns and you may have answers," he says cryptically. He peers for a moment at John, but says nothing. "That goes for everyone. If you need me, you know where my office is," he pipes up and then heads back to the secret entrance. The wall closes behind him.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
The Director making his way in is a moment of pause for Daisy, brows quirking and at the small speech and salute she is quick to get one from the bar to do the same, lifting her glass in May's direction to down it swiftly. One more down from the long row! It'd be a long night ...

And while she'd be more than happy to explain to Peggy what they are speaking of there are priorities! Like getting cake. She gets *two* slices. Glutton? Nah, she brings one over for Fitz, handing it over. "There you go." then telling him in a lower voice. "I brought you the goods." contraband!

A glance then to Peggy, "Well, basically, there's a thing called a Carter Award now. Honestly, Peggy Award sounds a lot better, but we do with what we get. It's an award for saving Agents lives during a mission." then she eyeing Bobbi and Lance a moment. "And apparently the OTHER tradition is drinking a shot for each life saved.." hmph..

She starts eating her cake. Or more like devouring it, listening to May's tale about the old agents. "Well, someone knew her cakes!" the young agent says with a mouthful.

Jack Nolan has posed:
The director comes and goes as he pleases. That doesn't surprise Jack at all. He manages to get a nod towards the Director before he vanishes again behind the wall, "Wonder how many buildings in this city he has secret entrances into." Jack says to nobody in particular, starting to eat the cake. He hmms faintly, though at May's notion that he's not able to interrogate her, he laughs, "I have no doubts of that. Though that's why I'm the brute squad and not the intel guy."

Leopold Fitz has posed:
Certainly no one is going to have to twist Fitz's arm to get him to take a load off on this particular evening. Which is a good thing, seeing as he appears to be already down a limb right at the moment.

"Rather painful still, at times," Fitz admits with a nod for both Peggy and Lance. "But they gave me something for that, fortunately. No permanent damage. Only a couple of days on the crutches," he says, almost matter of factly. Unless he decides to milk it that is. It is possibly he might get spoiled what with people bringing him food and all instead of just yelling at him to get out of the lab and down to the caffeteria and don't dare come back until he's had a shower and a few hours of sleep. This is pretty sweet. "I'll see what I can do about the wings..."

"Agent May, glad to have you back. Thank you for not letting me explode," he says, lifting a hand towards the woman of the hour before hobbling into his seat and pointing at the cake waiting for him. See? He's say more but well, there's cake. Fitz has his priorities.

And not just cake. Two slices of cake. Daisy gets a brief, almost conspiratorial smile. "You are my hero." In the end the requirements for proper Fitz management might not be quite as high as they appear on the outside.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes look to the laminated badge that John puts on display, to which she gives it an appreciative nod of her head. "Very official. Your charisma will skyrocket with that hanging from your lapel." She tells him, showing a light smile there-after before her eyes glance off to the others, a rare sighting of Nick Fury is one she certainly takes note of as well. "You're popular around here, I think." Lara adds to John when looking back at him, having noted a few stern stares given to the magic man. "And my status with SHIELD is ... full time? I think so? It's hard to really say, considering how much of it inter-mixes with what I would likely be doing even if I weren't on the roster. The benefit being that SHIELD's reach is far and wide, and makes what I do... well. A hell of a lot easier." She lets her smile morph in to a small grin for a second then before indulging another sip from her glass of amber beer.

Phil Coulson has posed:
"Wait..." Phil raises an eyebrow as he hears the names May mentioned. "You met all of them?" A brief look to Peggy as he hears the rest of May's words, before he takes the plate as it's pushed to him. "So, it took going back in time for you to learn to bake cake?" It's offered lightly and with a grin.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi feels a buzz in her pocket and opens it up and checks the message. It's from Fury and it brings a smile to her face. She puts the phone away and takes another long sip of the whisky. Sousa.. she heard that voice over the phone in the recording. Just briefly. The first agent of SHIELD to fall. His name is the first on the wall. "Shotgun Rose?!," Bobbi blurts out and then grins. "She's one of my heroes. Well, after Peggy of course--" she lifts her cake hand in salute to Peggy.

    "Daisy did a big ol' heroic thing and saved the day and fellow agents lives," she remarks in addition to Daisy's explanation. "Big damn hero stuff." Her eyes swivel to Fitz on crutches and she feels a pang of guilt, but they all get hurt in the line of duty. Some more than others. Besides, he got to play with a time machine. At the discussion of wings she gives Fitz a pointed shake of the head in the negative.

    "Speaking of indestructible. Nolan, great work in the field in Mojave. Truly stunning display of fortitude," she says and lifts her whisky hand up to him in salute.

Melinda May has posed:
May grimaces slightly at Daisy's mention of the Carter Award tradition. They tried to get her to take the shots after Bahrain. She is the one agent in the history of the Award, since the shots were introduced, who refused. In fact, she never even showed up to the pub afterward. Made it a whole lot easier to avoid.

"Anytime, Fitz," she says to the scientist, letting his words push her dark thoughts away. "Your time phone was the *best* thing ever. Trust me." A lifeline, it was.

Her attention flits to Coulson. She smirks quite openly. "Oh, yeah," she says. "I met all of them. And they let me play in their tech lab. I thought about smuggling you a few toys, but I figured they'd miss them. And they'd lose value, not having the chance to age."

Her expression sobers again. "Really. We've all heard the stories of them. The stories don't begin to do them justice."

She swallows a mouthful of cake. "This cake is her recipe... But, she does it a whole lot better."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That grin from John gets a slight roll of Peggy's eyes, and once Fury is done speaking, she calls over the crowd, "Croft, don't believe a word he says. Nothing but trouble right there. Probably just here for the free booze!" But there isn't any real dislike in her voice for the man. If anything, there's some fond amusement behind her tone as she warns Lara against him.

Then Fury is getting her eyes once more as he heads out. The comment about his office gains a hint of surprise from her, but she dips her head in acknowledgment and makes a mental note. Just another thing for a full plate. But she doesn't even have much time to process as her mind registers Daisy's explanation about the award. She blinks, genuinely flushing this time, "You *must* be joking. THat's... not...I'm not... Well... " She is genuinely shocked. She doesn't seem to understand it at all, but then she's the person who did these things. She certainly doesn't see herself as much of a legend. She smirks at the shots. "I... guess at least you get to drink about it. Well earned drinks, at that. As long as I needn't match you." She winks at the pair.

She's still faintly blushing, especially as May mentions meeting her younger self. But the stories of the other agents? Peggy doesn't speak up there. She listens. She scoops up her own glass of whiskey, drinking hard from it, but the discussion is eough to hear. While she's fairly good at masking emotions, a room full of profilers probably don't entirely miss the ache carefully hidden behind Peggy's eyes. To these people, those names were legends. To her? They are the people she misses bone deep.

She finally offers a somewhat quiet statement, "...they were all the... best sorts of people. It...turns out Dani-... Sousa sent me a few things along with the time brick. Some more photos for the wall in here. I'll...get them framed soon." Again, there is MUCH behind her words she's not saying.

Jack Nolan has posed:
Jack laughs and raises his glass back to Bobbi, "Thanks. Though you know, couldn't have done it without the air support from Hunter and Barton. I suppose it's a good thing I make for great bait for angry dudes with energy weapons, though." He considers for a bit, and then looks from May to the rest of the group.

"I want to raise a toast to the SSR. Without them, we wouldn't have SHIELD. And we wouldn't have Agent May back either. They paved the way for the great work we do today."

John Constantine has posed:
"Yeah, not bad for something they could whip up at a copy center," John agrees. He examines the badge clipped to his lapel, then lets it flop loose and looks over at Peg when she calls him out. He just grins at the dig, looks at Lara, and lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

"Free booze is as good a reason as any, but the company's not bad either. Good seeing you, Lady Croft," he bids her, and gets to his feet. "Don't be a stranger, aye?" The magus starts fishing for another cigarette and his lighter, fingers jonesing for a hit of tobacco since it's been maybe a minute since he ended his last one.

He goes over to the cake-serving station and takes one as soon as May serves it up. "Why, thank you so much, Agent May, it looks delicious," he tells her. A fork carves out a bite and he chews thoughtfully. "Tastes delicious, too. I didn't know you could bake. Or is that one of those covert skills you Agents acquire, go undercover as a baker's assistant?"

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara looks over to Peggy when she hears the Agent's voice call out with regard to John. This gets a soft laugh from her, followed by a couple of little nods. "He's already owned up to that fact, but I'll be on my guard, I promise." She replies back over the ambiance of the bar all around them. Her eyes go back to John then and she raises her drink up for another sip before watching him stand once more. "I wouldn't dream of it. Your magical consulting will go a long way, I'm sure of it." Lara's gotten to know quite a few of the magically inclined people living in the New York area in her year here in the States.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening as well, Mister Constantine." She states as he departs to further his socializing, she being far less ... of a mingler herself.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"We'll talk later," Hunter whispers to Fitz when Bobbi tries to nix the wing idea, before sliding a drink over to the man. "Good work with the Time Hole, mate," he says with a grin. He nods as the other agents take a few moments to remember the OGs. "Sound like quite the bunch," he says, after all anybody that's up with Carter in Bobbi's pantheon of heroes has to be something.

As to the business about the Carter award. "Don't look at us, it's May and Coulson's generation that dreamed it up. Still, good way to celebrate if you ask me."

He joins in Jack's toast raising his glass. "To the SSR."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Another toast? "You are killing me, Nolan..." She gets *another* glass from the table and lifts it in Nolan's direction. "To the SSR. To the future they created." she adds with a grin.

Attention then goes to Peggy, "You *could* help." Daisy then suggests to Peggy, pointing to the row of shots. "For solidarity's sake? Peggy Award?" the young agent giving the other her best doe-eyed look. Poor Daisy! Really! The talk about more photos has her beaming brightly about it. "I will look forward to it. Was he as handsome as the stories go?" Hey, as it goes gossip in SHIELD is as any other place, if not even worse. Girls talk!

But there's people still without cake, so Daisy being the generous soul that she is goes to get another slice and ambles along to deliver one to Lara, "Noone goes without cake tonight. It's a rule. Specially as it's May's cooking!" which might be one in a million chance of seeing it again in the future. She looks across to Constantine while he speaks to May, commenting to Lara, "Oh, look.. That friend of yours doesn't seem to care much about his safety..." taunting Agent May like that..

Melinda May has posed:
Peggy's words capture May's attention. Daniel sent Peggy something through the law firm? And judging by the woman's more subtle tells, combined with a private conversation the pair have had since May's return... Well. Hell.

The Asian pushes away from the table. "I'll look forward to seeing them," she tells her friend, begining to wander toward the picture wall. "You never know what the job requires," she tells Constantine dryly as she passes.

She pauses in front of that wall and looks it over. Dark eyes scan the oldest of the images, those still in black and white or muted colour. Peggy's friends, after all, are her friends, now, too. She smiles again as she find one that shows them all -- all the people she left behind, gathered together somewhere far from the desert, but looking like a family, nonetheless. Reaching out, she takes it down and holds it, studying it as if she didn't see their faces only 48 hours ago.

She doesn't mean to ignore Jack's toast. She's just... distracted.

Phil Coulson has posed:
"While I would have loved that, you probably did the right thing," Phil replies to May, before he nods again as he hears Peggy's words about the pictures for the wall. "That sounds quigte nice," he offers, before he goes back to the eating of the cake.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes are quick to bounce right over to the arrival of Daisy, with cake, who garners a large grin from the London-native. "Oh, uh, right, of course." She says to Daisy. "Thank you very much." She's quick to add, accepting the cake and pushing her phone off to the side. "You know, since coming to the States, I've come to learn that just about all of your bread here is... also cake. This country is very fond of cake, is the moral of my story." She tells the other, offering another small grin as shr reaches for a fork on the table and glides it toward her with a napkin beneath it.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi lifts her glass, "To the SSR." She sips the whisky and really wants to quiz May all about young Peggy.. but she knows those secrets will never pass May's lips even under enhanced interrogation. For now, her imagination will have to suffice. Cake finished, fingers licked, she relaxes in to her chair and rests a hand on Lance's leg.

    "Remind me to never accept a mission command position ever again," she says to Lance.. as if she'd had a choice in the matter when May disappeared. "These jobs are best left to the professionals.. like Phil." She lifts her glass toward him and then takes another sip, "And Gonzales.. where ever that grumpy bastard who refuses to stop calling me Barbara might be..."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Oh god, you are going to kill me. I still need to walk out of here." Peggy mutters at Nolan's toast, but she does reach a glass up to follow his words and takes another good sip of her whiskey. Then she's looking at Daisy and the shots with a little groan as the woman says she can help, but right now, especially with questions of Sousa's looks and the letters on the table? She sure as hell is taking a shot. And another. Matching one for one. "I can at least give proper... moral encouragement." She winks to the two, doing her best to hide any of that aching nostalgia beneath a wry grin and that teasing look.

But a heartbeat later, she does answer Daisy's question. "Yes... he was... incredibly handsome. Not the reason I married him, but... one of them." She offers, a bit more quiet, that comment really only meant for the table but it seems Peggy's changed her mind on keeping those tiny personal details, ones she'd not told people in ages, under the rug. He shouldn't be her little secret.

She smiles at the photo May pulls down, staring over them all. "There. That was him. There are some better photos in the package. I've not gone through the whole thing yet. There's... a lot of letters." But then Peggy is looking a bit closer at the black and white photo. She narrows her eyes, leaning in closer as she stares at a face in the crowd that is horribly familiar but not because she expected it to be there. Someone who looks *exactly* like May... in the second line of agents there. "May... this... you all didn't get a photo together when you were down there and then we dated it wrong...did you?"

Melinda May has posed:
May glances over to Peggy, a brow arching. The woman's openly confessing she and Sousa were married. Well. Guess May doesn't have to sit on *that* secret any more. Good.

She passes the picture to Peggy when she starts pointing out people. Pointing out Sousa. It's only when Peggy isolates the Asian woman in the picture that the agent frowns, brows knitting. "No," she says. "No, I didn't let anyone take photos of me the whole time we were there. I didn't want there to be a record of my presence."

She takes the photo back and studies it closer. She even pulls out her phone so she can use the camera to zoom in and expand the image to make it more visible.

"Huhn." Yeah, if that woman in the photo *isn't* May... she sure as hell could fool anyone in the room right now, no doubt. The hair is different -- curled and softening her features. And the clothing is something straight out of Peggy's wardrobe. But other than that?

"Did you write the names on the back?" she asks Peggy, flipping the frame over and starting to loosen the back so she can see the back of the photo.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Well..." And Daisy gestures vaguely with her hands, "We use the word cake very liberally. It can be a blessing but also a curse. In this case, it was a good one. And what country isn't fond of cake?!" now she's demanding names. Outrageous! "Also, whiskey on the house. Do you see E there? And that little line of shots. Help yourself of one!" ulterior motives from Daisy to bring cake of course, wanting help to finish her shots!

Yet it's when Peggy mentions she was married with Sousa that Daisy coughs in surprise. Really?! *gossip intensifies* "Uh, yes.., mmm." now she's embarassed a bit. But she saves herself by reaching for another glass. "I will join in another." down it goes! Another whiskey.

Aaaaand then she quietly goes to take a peek at the photos by the wall, taking note of that one where May is supposed to be. Then looking at May. Then looking at the photo.

"Playing with the timelines, have we?" She whispers to May.

Leopold Fitz has posed:
Don't let Fitz hear about the playing with timelines thing. He will launch into an explanation about temporal paradoxes and spatial rifts opening up to consume all of reality as everyone knows it.

He can be a real downer at parties sometimes. That might be why he doesn't go to a whole lot of them.

Fortunately he is very much distracted by his cake. That yummy, yummy cake. He does manage to fumble for his drink when a toast is made at least, lifting his glass up and nodding solemnly. Science might be his passion, but he is a big enough SHIELD nerd to be interested in it's history of course.

It's probably better that he doesn't look to closely at any of the photographs of those days, or look at old mission reports. He might be a little dismayed to find anything changed.

Yes, probably best just to keep the cake coming and Fitz safely ensconced at his table, happily oblivious.

Jack Nolan has posed:
"Don't suppose there's any big stone monsters lurking in the background of that photo." Jack says, as he tries to get a peek at it, "I doubt you all would let me go back in time. It'd be kinda hard to explain, huh?" Mutants didn't really start showing up until relatively recently, in the grand scheme of things.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"Noted," Lance says about command positions. There's a smile for the bit about Gonzales and he offers helpfully, "Could be worse, Bobs. He could call you Babs." Seriously the surest proof that their dopplegangers were evil was that choice of nickname. To Nolan, Hunter nods, "Yeah, won't let me go back either I suspect, apparently using time travel for profit is frowned upon." Though there is some interest in the photos and he glances in that direction. "What's going on?" he asks.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While the whiskey is certainly starting to kick in a bit, the mystery of the photo is keeping most of Peggy's attention now. She takes a thoughtful sip of her first glass of whiskey, setting the shots aside for now. She'd like a clear head just a bit longer. "No time travel for profit." Peggy states quite flatly, the tone of voice saying it is an order, up to Hunter.

"And...I swear I remember this photo. First SHIELD official field unit. So...that would have been 1951, well after May was gone. There should be names on the back." Peggy indicates. She might be 100 years old, but her mind still really is that sharp. "And yes... Daniel and I were married in 1950. I didn't take his name because... Well, all the reasons a woman doesn't, especially in those days. But he was... one of the best men I ever knew." And rumors are that she and Steve had a thing back in the day. He's got a lot of people to live up to.

On the back of the photo, sure enough, are a list of names. Including Peggy, Daniel, Rose, Tessa... but Lily Chen is the name in the spot where May's face seems to be. Her eyes go a bit wide, "Oh hell. Agent Chen. I remember her. Recruit from Chinatown...had a... strange history, but she was sharp enough to pass all the tests..."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    "Trouble," she says as she lifts the whisky to her lips, pointedly not going to go look at the photo. "Okay.. I think I'm going to head home. You can burn the midnight oil if you want but i'm not waiting up." Glass empties, she puts it down on the table and then stands up.

    "It's been great seeing you all here. Someone drive Daisy home she's beyond drunk," she says with a touch of amusement. "Babs.. ugh. I wish I knew where they ran off to. The thought of someone else with my face going about doing _things_ ..." She heads over to the bartender and swipes her card, then heads out of the bar to head back to the Triskelion.

Melinda May has posed:
"It's NOT. Me." May tells Daisy, warning in her tone. "I wasn't *that* reckless." Maybe a little reckless. But, hey. She had to endear herself to Legends.

She relaxes a little, though, at Jack's words, chuckling dryly. "Kinda hard," she agrees.

Then, the photo frame is open and the names are listed. "Lily Chen?" she repeats, stressing the name to make sure she's seeing it right. Her frown deepens and the look she gives Peggy is sharp, but uncertain. She decides, however, it's a conversation best pursued somewhere else at some other time.

She raises a hand as Bobbi prepares to leave. "We'll chat later, yeah, Bobbi?" Because there's still a lot May needs to get caught up on. "Thanks for coming."

Phil Coulson has posed:
Phil Coulson smiles as he listens, sipping his own whisky as he looks between the others. "Leaving already?" he remarks to Bobbi, although it's quite lightly, and with amusement.

Lance Hunter has posed:
"It was just a thought..." Hunter answers Peggy with his hands up, regarding time travel for profit. Though his attention is quickly back on Bobbi. "Won't be too much longer, might give Dais a ride home, as I might be a little bit responsible for her condition," he says. He nods about 'Babs' and the other Hunter. "We'll find them," he assures her. "Two people that good looking can't stay hidden forever."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A quiet smile is given in Bobbi's direction and a little salute to the senior ranking agent, "Be safe out there. Maybe take a day or two off? I'm around. I can take some hand offs if you need." Peggy offers, apparently not planning on taking days off herself, but she also wasn't injured or having heart attacks on site while in the desert. Besides, the older agent looks like a woman who probably needs some work as a distraction.

She's then looking back to May and no other commentary is given about the photo. She gives a brief nod in agreement to the name, "I...remember her. Nice lady." That's all she says with a tone that says the conversation is definitely over. Here, at least.

Fortunately, coming from one of the back areas, is a very loud distraction. A completely well built, muscles rippling man in a far too tight 'war boy' uniform (that is to say, shortie shorts, skin tight shirt, military greens, no actual hardware but some rank pins that distinctly look like parts of certain anatomy and a badge that names him 'General Grinder') starts dancing his way out of the back, old fashioned boom box blasting music over his shoulder. He knows every dance move a stripper should know and is starting his grinding way in May's direction.

Melinda May has posed:
May's head comes up at the sound of the boombox. "Are you kidding me?" She eyes Bobbi. Daisy... And even reserved, proper Peggy (whom she knows isn't nearly as buttoned up as she likes to pretend). "Who got security clearance for this?" Not that she's particularly going to complain.

She puts the picture frame back into Peggy's hands. She can clean it up. May, meanwhile, saunters back to her table and picks up the whiskey bottle.

"Alright, agents. You wanna play? Let's play."

Yeah. Welcome home.

John Constantine has posed:
A distraction. Perfect. It's what the chain-smoking Brit's been waiting for. Constantine collects another free whisky (leaving more than a few empty glasses in his wake) and steps into Peggy's proximity. His head tilts so there's no good angle to read his lips, murmuring into Peggy's ear.

There's a little suggestiveness to how close they stand. Definitely not a purely platonic relationship; his hand rests on her forearm, then at the small of her back while they have a murmured conversation. The sly, knowing smile on John's face is mischevious in the extreme. Whatever he's proposing is concluded with a suggestive grin and a subtle tilt of his head out of the bar, towards the Triskelion proper and away from the partygoers.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Not that Peggy helped arrange a stripper AS a distraction, but she knows May needs some distractions from more than one thing, especially the weight of missing people you get close to entirely too quickly. So, seeing her friend's face light up like that, the older Agent looks entirely too pleased with herself at May's response. She read that situation right. "I have my pull in SHIELD still..." Peggy teases lightly. It is a very well done hologram, so totally safe, but no one needs to know that. Especially as General Grinder starts grinding so hard, some of that uniform is starting to pop off. She chuckles to herself and carefully starts putting the picture back in the frame to return it to where it normally hangs...

... only to be intercepted by a certain troublemaker. Peggy blinks, not pulling away from that touch. If anything, it does seem some nearness that the woman is accustomed to, though her expression is surprised to see him. She smirks to him, giving a slightly levelled look, but then he gets a faint nod and she starts leading into a back corner. She pauses only to hang the picture up before slipping off into a hall with the man.