5929/Returning the World to How It's Supposed to Be

Returning the World to How It's Supposed to Be
Date of Scene:	13 April 2021
Location:	Lounge - Playground
Synopsis:	Three AM at the Playground sees the station's new Chief and her two onsite Commanders discussing departmental logistics, debating priorities... and enjoying a dram or two of very fine scotch.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Melinda May, Bobbi Morse

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Peggy Carter has posed:
Heavy is the head that wears the mantel, or so they say. While Peggy initially was thrilled at the promotion -- it really did seem to help the world make a little more sense to herself -- her mind spent most of the night chasing itself. She was Director for decades while HYDRA grew under their nose and the reward she gets for missing that it was happening until too late? Another promotion. It's not sitting quite so well with her as she first imagined. Or maybe she's just good at driving herself in circles and nervous, though she'd never admit it.

All this is to say that Peggy is awake. Somewhere between two or three in the morning, she's not certain. She stopped looking at the clock. She's still in her old black and pink flamingo covered robe with her hair up in it's normal pin curls so it'll be ready to be waved in the morning. She's quiet as she shuffles out into the lounge area, automatically going for the tea set up but also snagging one of those old bottles of Howard's on her way. It's not a great look for the new chief, but she doesn't suspect anyone else to be up at this hour.

Melinda May has posed:
May's vote, if she had one, is that Peggy is really good at needlessly driving herself in circles... if anyone's asking. She can *feel* Peggy coming before the woman ever enters the room. Her spinning mind creates spinning emotions. Is it any wonder Melinda can't sleep?

Okay, truthfully, that's not Peggy's fault. The new Commander of STRIKE is curled up on the dark leather couch, a cooling mug of tea at her elbow and a sizable tablet in her hand as she tries to figure out jsut what the blazing hell John thought he was doing. And tries to figure out which of the remaining STRIKE agents she'll need to vet first.

Her own team, she's pretty confident about. Agents like Piper, Davis, Collingwood, and McLaren. And she has a short list of agents she'd like to bring on board, Sharon Carter quickly rising to the top of it. Her, Alphonso Mackenzie, and Antoine Triplett.

She looks up as Peggy enters, picks up those bottles, and shuffles her way to the tea set. The water in the kettle is still warm. Not hot, mind. But warm enough to start with. Her arm stretches out along the back of the couch as she turns to watch her.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While something in Peggy registered someone was there, Melinda May is one of the few people she considers a good enough friend that she doesn't set off worry bells in the back of Peggy's head. So, she's not concerned enough to look over fully until after she finishes putting the water back on. Noticing it's still warm, she finally properly looks over to May and gives the woman a drowsy smile. "I... hope I didn't keep you up through the walls. I suspect this place isn't as... sound or emotion-proofed as some other bases. I'm pretty sure we only put sound insulation in the interrogation rooms and some of the cells." Peggy admits with wry smirk, still somehow abe to remember when they were talking about the construction, all those years ago. It's strange the things that stick with a woman.

She the pours out a few good fingers of whiskey into a separate tea cup, setting the bottle near the kettle though not before giving it a little shake and a questioning look in May's direction. "I do suppose we should still be celebrating."

Melinda May has posed:
"I suppose we should," May agrees. "But our track record with celebrating *anything* lately, without the celebration blowing up in our faces, really isn't good." The Swordfish after the Iron Fortitude op turned into the Fall of SHIELD. Peggy's birthday party gave way to Daniel's horrifying revelation. She's almost afraid to imagine what *this* occasion could lead to.

Still, her tone as she says it is fairly mild. She sets her tablet aside. And she gives her friend what for her is a warm smile -- as small and reserved as it's ever been, but fuller in her eyes. "But, no. You didn't keep me up. I was up anyway. And my dagger is pretty good at keeping the worst of the emotional overload at bay. So, I'm fine." She chuckles softly, gesturing to the bottle in a way that suggests, yes, she'll happily take a wee dram or few.

Peggy Carter has posed:
With the motion to the bottle made, Peggy pulls down another coffee mug and pours out two fingers of the good stuff to bring it over to Melinda's side. "Enjoy. I'm going to have to go raiding to see what more Howard still had stashed around here, but this is the last of the inital find. If anyone deserves it, it's us." Peggy grins a bit more, even if the commentary about celebrations is a good point. She shakes her head quietly, "Daniel was... understandably upset, but the birthday was still lovely. Honestly. It... it was a good remind why I keep doing all this. Probably one I needed." Peggy confesses quietly.

Then she's stepping back to make her own tea, the kettle still warm means she didn't have to wait near so long to hit the right temperature. She just adds her own whiskey straight to her tea glass. There. It's a healthy bedtime drink instead of just drinking after hours in the place she's now totally responsible for.

"So...how bad is it?" She nods in quiet question to the notes in May's hands, assuming that the woman is up and going through STRIKE things. Peggy knows her friend well, nowadays.

Melinda May has posed:
"Yes," May agrees, something of a knowing smile on her lips now, "it was." She takes the mug with a murmur of thanks. She waits until Peggy joins her with her own tea/whiskey mix before she takes a sip. An appreciative noise escapes her lips before she sets the mug down to pick up her tablet.

"Oh, it's bad," she admits. "But we knew that. Fury said it best when he first asked me about stepping up. Garrett was affable on the surface, but a cold hearted killer at the core. He knew how to spin a report, too. Everything tied up neatly in a bow the brass would accept." She flicks her fingers over the tablet and brings up a long list of incidents and reports that prove her point. "There's dozens here. Dozens that could gotten him courtmartialed time and again but that read instead as hard calls in the field that just couldn't be avoided."

She inhales a deep breath, nostrils flaring in a way that hints at the depth of her anger about that. Of course, anger *is* Melinda's go-to. But, still. It's warranted in this case. "And he was very, very skillful in how he managed to align HYDRA's agenda with ours," she continues, letting Peggy take the tablet and look at the list, if she wants. Her expression has become grim as she speaks. "I can't count the number of strikes in recent years that played right into their hands. He saw to it that we were doing their dirty work for them. Pretty thoroughly, too." She snirks. "Fury called it a long game. But it was more than that."

She leans back and reaches for her whiskey again. "He said Garrett liked this motto from this movie back in the 80's -- Karate Kid. Did you see it before you went under? It was earlier in the decade, I think." She shakes her head. "Doesn't really matter. The point is, the asshole of the movie had this motto -- strike first, strike hard, no mercy. And Garrett lived it." She meets Peggy's eyes, now. "Fury doesn't want me to take over STRIKE. He wants me to rebuild it. 'Strike first. Strike hard. Show mercy.'" Translation: Be what SHIELD should be.

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's shortly before 3 in the morning and while the Playground is fairly quiet, some newly promoted agents aren't able to sleep. There's a newly hot kettle on and tea brewing next to Peggy's hand, though the bottle of Howard's scotch that she brought out for the birthday party is also out on the tea table, so it's possible they are having a bit of a night cap, as it were. Peggy's abandoned her spiked tea, however, to take the tablet from May as the woman explains the situations she's been handed.

A low whistle escapes Peggy's lips as she looks over the mission list that May's been examining. "...The arsehole. I...mean, we knew. Yes. But I didn't realize he... enjoyed killing. We really did enjoy it, didn't he? And we gave him every excuse to do it." She exhales slowly, handing the tablet back to May, "I don't envy your task, but...whatever you need, just tell me. I'll pull what resources I can. After this place is back open, I'm starting to go through some more SSR files. See what other bases we might be able to tap. And if we need tech... I have a few more ideas there too. We've still got a sympathetic Stark who I need to pay a visit..."

Melinda May has posed:
May takes her tablet back. "Yeah. He loved it." She gives a mild shrug, that belies just how pissed she still is at Garrett. (Condescending bastard.) "Fury wants me to take agents from all across the agency who've got talent, not just Ops, but SPOT, WAND, SWORD, ARMOR -- whoever has the skills or could be taught them. Instead of siloing and making ourselves ripe for inbreeding, it's all about pan-organizational cooperation." She pauses a moment and cants her head. "I like it, actually." She would. It's how Phil works. And she's worked closely with him for too long for it not to rub off on her.

Still at the offer of resources, she smile briefly again. "I'll hold you to it. But, right now, it's really all about vetting agents from across the board and seeing who might fit." She swipes across her tablet again and brings up her very short list of people she'd like to start recruiting. "I want Sharon. Maybe Mack or Tripp, too. But Sharon... I think she could make a good second. She's got the chops. She just needs a little more mentoring. Needs to get used to being a team player again." But May knows all about that. She's been a specialist of the same caliber for much longer.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi covers her mouth as she yawns wandering in. She's up late and not in uniform - jeans, t-shirt, comfy sweater. She almost walks like a zombie over to the coffee machine and presses the button to make it gurgle.

    "So I'm not the only one who can't sleep tonight?," she asks of the other two. Two commanders a chief walk in to a lounge. As the coffee pours out she lifts it in a salute, "You can't have Agents from SPOT." She smirks and joins them, "SPOT takes agents from other parts of SHIELD. That's the way we work. Each team is assembled based on the requirements of the mission. And, the biggest mission right now.. HYDRA. Carter's work was all under SPOT. But now that you're Chief Carter.. I suppose it's an organisation wide mission?"

    She sips her coffee and sits down, folding legs at the ankle and resting them on the arm of another unoccupied chair next to her.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peggy has whiskey-spiked coffee sitting next to her, the least professional part of her tonight is the fact she's in her night robe and not clothes at all. It might be a robe that was left over in her quarters here, because it definitely looks like it's from a different era. It's black satin with pink lapels and huge pink flamingos all over it. It would have been quite stylish in 1953. She's even got her hair up in pin curls for the night so she clearly intended on sleeping, but it just didn't really work out.

May's comment about wanting Sharon gets a wider smile, "Just can't resist having a Carter there, can you? But, honestly, May, she's... She's damn good. I'd love to see her closer to home, if you can convince her not to take another solo assignment. I ... suspect you're right about her needing to learn to be on a team again. She *should* learn it. She'll probably be stubborn about it. It tends to run in the blood." Peggy admits with a husky bit of a laugh, scooping her tea mug back up.

Then she's looking over to Bobbi and she raises her glass in greeting. "Apparently not. Lots of...changes. Brain wants to work even if the body isn't quite willing. So. A night cap and some brain storming. Not that you really left me much work to do *here*. The whole damn place is set up and ready to go. I feel like I almost cheated."

Melinda May has posed:
May turns toward Bobbi as she feels her approach. She gives a wry smile. "Yeah, thing is, I think that's how STRIKE needs to work, too. I think we need to train agents to be STRIKE-qualified. But not necessarily assigned to a permanent STRIKE team. I think we need to pull who we need according to the needs of the mission, providing they're qualified to handle the high stakes most STRIKE missions face."

She tracks Bobbi as she moves. "The difference SPOT and STRIKE should be in primary mission objective and on-the-ground strategy, not methodology. STRIKE goes into the hot zones, deals with high value targets and, frequently, tends to face hostiles with more firepower and a helluva lot less restraint. SPOT plays a longer game, comes at things sideways, and works the angles more. Imediate intervention vs. ongoing investigation." At least, that's how she sees it. "Fury suggested the model," though she extrapolated it from his words rather than it coming as a direct order, "and I think he's right. We need to rebuild. And we need to be smart about it. We can't do what we've always done and expect different results. So... we'll do it differently, this time."

It never occurred to her HYDRA wasn't their mission. Ongoing and eternal. So, she gives Bobbi a bit of a sideeye at that thought. Yes, there are other concerns, too, but how could anyone mistake HYDRA for not being at the top of the heap?

She chuckles at Peggy's comment, however. "Of course, not. And why should I, when the brand is so strong." Carter brand agents are the best of the best, after all. "Whether or not she's willing to accept the invitation, I think she needs the training. It will only help her, in the long run." She starts ticking off on her fingers, "Sharon, Stack, Daisy... a whole host of others. STRIKE-qualified to augment a smaller, more permanent roster."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi chuckles, "Peggy I am comfortable jumping off a sixty story building .. but doing all this logistics? It was like I had a personal brain slug sucking away my intelligence. So thank you. I did my best in the time we had.. which was not a lot. Simmons isn't entirely happy with the lab, but there's only so much I can do. I'm sure Fitz will complain... feel free to blame anything that isn't good enough on me."

    She sips her coffee as she listens to May's idea of how STRIKE could work. She finds herself nodding along at the ideas. "I really like where your head is at with this May. I think that'd be a good healthy thing for the organisation as a whole." She lifts a hand, "So.. am I STRIKE qualified yet?" She grins a touch after May rattles off the names of people she wants to train. "Just about the only thing we can't cross train on is specialist skills," she suggests and looks to Peggy.

    "So what do you think? It'd sure be easier than having a crazy murder wall at your place if we could get all of SHIELD rounding up our leads. Huttz.. start strategising about Pierce. Figure out who the rest of the heads of HYDRA are. They can't exactly frame us for more terroristy type actions and make a splash, they've already played that card."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The comment about the 'brand' gets an even wider smile from May and Peggy dips her head in agreement, "I won't complain about keeping her around a bit longer. Maybe we'll finally have a conversation longer than five minutes." There's some weight behind that statement, the awkwardness of discovering a grand daughter she never had and far too many decades of baggage behind it all. But Peggy's doing her best to flit over it smoothly, "If you can convince her to stay, you'll have one of the best. I'm... damn proud of her, no matter what." That was absolutely honest. Even thinking about Sharon makes Peggy warm. Happier. Despite complications.

Peg dips her head deeper at Bobbi's question, the show clear agreement as she takes another deep drink of her tea. The whiskey's warm and relaxing, despite the conversation. She leans back, stretching for that expensive bottle on the table behind her. She then brings it to rest between them all, a silent offer. It's that time of night and this is going to be that kind of conversation. "I think May's plan is the best possible. People...they shouldn't be doing that work full time anyway. When we took Vogel in... May did a good job of reminding me that we're SHIELD. We aren't executioners. Sometimes it needs to happen, sure, but... It's our last resort. STRIKE? They do those missions more than anyone else. Wet work makes anyone cold after a while. It kills something in you. Being able to switch agents out? Not just good for everyone having better training... better for their heads and hearts as well. I'm in full support."

Peg gives a little motion to the room around them, "Besides, we need to start getting used to working with less to do more. It means everyone cross trains. We go back some of the old tricks. Going to see what else SSR I can dig up, and some favors from Stark. I think we'll all manage just fine."

Melinda May has posed:
May snirks at Bobbi's question. "I suspect you are," she says dryly. "On paper, at least." She actually jabs a finger at her. "Get that cardiac problem sorted, Morse. I'm getting tired of seeing your ass dragged from the battlefield at the end of every mission. You get that fixed, then talk to me about STRIKE-qualifying."

The fact is, May isn't willing to stand on ceremony any more. These women are people she trusts and has worked with for years. Chain of command be damned -- it has its place, sure. But, right now, it's more about getting the job done than anything else. She'll take whomever works for whatever mission she's facing, pecking order be hanged. If that means Peggy Carter instead of Sharon, or (cardio-stabilized!) Morse instead of Hunter, that's how it'll go.

"And I don't think we need to cross train specialist skills. We just need to make sure the specialists we have are cross trained to handle field ops." Does this mean FitzSimmons should be STRIKE-trained? Probably not. Neither of them are candidates for wetwork. But field trained? Absolutely.

The fact, however, that Peggy still has room for happiness, whether it's about Sharon or anything else, actually uncoils something inside May. Sure, it's partly her empathy reacting to the warmth. But it's also a quiet sense of relief that her friend isn't so likely to go off the deep end as she once was. She nods her agreement with Peggy's assessment of hearts and minds. "When it becomes easy to pull the trigger, it's time to put down the gun."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi nods enthusiastically to May and sips her coffee past a silly little grin. "Sure sure. Not a problem," she says with a smirk. "Sharon Carter. She's pretty amazing. She reminds me of ...well us," she comments. "I kind of like this. SHIELD is still.. really big, we're spread across lots of bases with our heart right here. But somehow we feel smaller, more manageable. May be it's just the fact that Daisy talks to a bowl and Simmons' dry sense of humour is more amusing than ever... or that we can spy on Colonel Talbot because he stupidly stole Lance's TV from my room in the Triskelion..."

    She lifts her coffee again to Peggy, "You're welcome. I'm sure you'll be reading alll about that asset shortly now that you have all that fancy level 9 clearance. I can't imagine the kinds of things that are in there."

    Of course, she probably now knows what Bobbi did to herself to defeat Whitehall. So many secrets at her finger tips. Bobbi tries not to think on it too much. Lance is out tonight so she is trying to get work done. "Oh and other things you're now privvy too.. I'm sending May to interrogate the SecDef. I'm also taking a team to The Iliad to take inventory. Gonzales didn't keep a list of its cargo anywhere BUT the ship itself."

Melinda May has posed:
May's brow rise. "We've got an inside line on Talbot?" she asks. Why have they not been using this? "That could be helpful." For reasons she can't quite explain, she feels the need to be a thorn in his side.

She flashes Peggy a brief, tight smile about the SecDef mission. "She's letting me fly her Mockingbird harness," she tells the new Chief. "For the record: I want one."

Would the ragestaff and a set of wings inadvertently make her a Valkyrie? Or is Fury right... did the staff come to her simply because of her Inhuman nature, despite the fact it lay dormant for so long?

Hrf. It's definitely 3am. Those are surefire Hour of the Wolf ruminations.

May reaches for her whiskey, her tea having grown cold. She takes a sip and lets it burn down her throat.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Exactly." Peggy echoes to May's comment about when it's easy to pull the trigger, though there's a little weight behind those words. A hint of acceptance that she might have been walking that line herself with Vogel and other HYDRA members. She's backed off now, but it was close. She pours a good shot more of Howard's expensive scotch into her tea cup and then leans back in her chair, curling her legs up beneath her robe and slightly into her chest. It's not very Chief-like, but then it's also a show of just how much she trusted this woman.

"May is right about your heart, though, Bobbi. Any...progress on that? Making an old woman over here worried, and I doubt I'd survive a heart attack near so well as you do." Peggy is mostly teasing about that last bit, but the concern for the agent is clear in her eyes and, being that it's just them, she dares to echo May's worries.

"Sounds like you've got a busy time ahead of you, May...good luck with the SecDef. If we could get more on Pierce to finally take him down, I know I'd sleep better at night. But Hutz is next on my list. We've got two possible locations for her. I'm hoping we don't have to go into her personal home but... we've got it. The inventory will be nice. Hell, did Gonzales distrust people as much as I did? I can't say I blame him but... well... our house is clean now. I really think it is and that is a god damn relief."

The Mockingbird comment gets an impressed look and a little laugh from Peggy, "Maybe your next birthday. We have to figure out what resources we still have before getting new ones, but I'll keep that in mind."

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi smiles, "I've given her the callsign Blackbird when she's wearing my wings. Also she's called dibs on them if I die." There's an amused grin on her face now and she sets her coffee down on the table. "And yes.. as soon as we found the security hole I let Fury know. He's had it on wraps. We're trying to figure out if we can turn him or not. If he's HYDRA, definitely not. If it's not.. may be. He's quite hot headed from what I've seen so far."

    "And yeah. Gonzales was a very paranoid commander. I am super curious to see what I've inherited. I've been training myself on ship operations so I don't step on the Captain and First Mate's toes when I visit. The last thing I want to do is ruffle the mans feathers. New boss and all that.."

    The conversation about her heart has her raising her eyebrows, "Well I've not exactly had much time to work on it - and I can only do it in a Level 5-C classified laboratory for ...reasons," that she is not allowed to share with May and possibly not even Peggy still.

    "And in all fairness my heart didn't give out on my on our last mission. I got shot three times with an anti-tank rifle at close range by an asshole. Between my SHIELD armor and ..super soldier body, ...that's the only reason I'm still alive."

Melinda May has posed:
"Aside from the Six Underground op, *when you were nothing but QB and a sniper on the hill*," May says to Bobbi dryly, "name one mission in recent months where we haven't had to drag you out on a stretcher for one reason or another." She holds up a hand. "Don't get me wrong. I'm very glad you've got the healing factor and supersoldier resiliance. I prefer you on this side of the grave. But still..." She's justified in her concerns.

And, truthfully, she wants the woman well. She's no scientist herself and doesn't much care to understand the reasons why one lab is preferable to another. Beyond the fact Bobbi's one of their top agents, and therefore one hell of an asset to have to sideline, she actually does care about the woman herself.

She shakes her head lightly and swallows a little more whiskey. "Frankly," she says, "I'd really like to know where List is. Huttz is valuable, but given Pacifica, I suspect List's agenda may be the more immediately dangerous." And that's not pro-Inhuman tendencies talking. May still hasn't actually come to terms with the idea she's Inhuman. Empath? Yes. Inhuman? Not so much. Despite Bobbi's words about the group's unusal magnaminity when it comes to forgiving the past of those they discover to be their own -- Inhuman -- she clearly remembers the level of animosity Jiaying's people held toward her. She still considers herself firmly an outsider, where they're concerned. Indeed, part of her feels more akin to the mutants in Bushwick than the Inhumans in Nepal. But she's not part of that community, either.

No. She is SHIELD. Always has been. Always will be.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I'm damned well glad you are alive. I'm just with May, I want to make certain we keep you that way." Peggy admits with a slightly worried grimace. But she doesn't press, not on a night like this. She just slings back a bit more whiskey and tries to get her shoulders to relax into the chair behind her as she lets out a slow breath. "List... we just need more information. He's the dead end I'd love to tie up faster than anything, but I don't want to lose Huttz in the wind while we still have some good information." Peggy's quiet again, her mind toying over all of it for a few more moments but the exhaustion is starting to hit. Even if she hates to admit that it sets in earlier these days than it use to, it does. And it is now after 3 am.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi shrugs a touch. What more can be said.. May is right. "I'm working on getting one of the G.I.R.L. labs up to spec. But it's hard.. they're all young and nosy and want to know what I'm up to. So I'm having to be very sly about it so they don't suspect too much. The best lab for it is in the Triskelion so.. that's not an option right now."

    "But don't expect miracles. I'm a good biochemist, but there are limits. And those limits seem to butt up against my Inhuman ability, which is more often than not jibberish mind distractions that keep me from getting my work done or ..." she motions to the coffee, "Getting sleep."

Melinda May has posed:
Even May will admit that the whiskey makes a good sleep tonic. And it's damned fine whiskey. "Maybe Huttz will have some idea where List has gone to ground," she says, swallowing down the last of what's in her mug. She picks up her tablet again and powers it down. She's not really going to get any further with that tonight.

"Can Simmons help you?" she asks Bobbi. It's something of a shame, she realizes, they can't find Jiaying and her people. May they'd be able to help. Then again, maybe not. She's not sure how good their scientists were. Or if they even had labs. Small med clinics don't count.

Peggy Carter has posed:
There's some rare moments where Peggy looks her age, the weight of the world behind her eyes and the exhaustion that a century brings someone. This is one of those moments. She's not crumbling under it, but she's bone deep tired. The list of problems, none of which she has easy solutions for and now new responsibilities? She's feeling it. She tilts her head in acknowledgment to not expecting miracles. "No... I suppose not, but you all scraped me out of that cryo tube and managed a miracle, so..." Peggy gives a tired laugh. "I don't know. Between you and Daniel, I've got a few hopes for miracles up my sleeve right now." Her smile is as bittersweet as that laugh. She really is hoping for it.

"And I was going to talk with Simmons to see what more she might want in the lab as it is. Tony is hard to pin down but...he still believes in us. I could probably get some quite nice things from him. Just need a list so I even know what to ask for." Probably it's not just the lab. She's probably got time worries in mind as well.

Bobbi Morse has posed:
    Bobbi smiles and shakes her head, "It's classified. Simmons is not allowed to.. directly help. She has beeb helping with other parts of the problem at least." She slips off the seat and says, "Well I'm going to try the sleep thing again. See you tomorrow Commander, Boss." She tosses the now empty paper cup in to a small bin across the room and heads back to her quarters.

Melinda May has posed:
May has a fairly educated guess about all the worries plaguing Peggy. Doubtlessly, Fury dumped even more on her, earlier today. But, then, even May has had her understanding -- and thus her concern -- expanded as she's started digging into things over the course of the afternoon and evening. "If Stark is willing to back us, I wouldn't say no," she admits. She can think of a few things the hangar could use, nevermind anything else.

She raises her hand in farewell to Bobbi. "Sleep well, Bobbi," she says. "We'll talk more tomorrow." Because there are *logistics* to work out. For oh-so-many things.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Of course, Morse. We should probably follow suit, truth be told. The morning is going to come too damn fast." Peggy admits quietly, even if she's not getting up to follow Bobbi out quite immediately. She's got a little more whiskey to finish and probably a few last thoughts with May. Once Bobbi's footfalls are no longer audible down the hall, she looks back to May with that tired, thoughtful smile.

"I guess the boss is allowed to drink on the job at 3 am without anyone lecturing her. Dangerous knowledge." Peggy's mostly teasing as she says that, staring at the little bit of scotch left in the bottom of her glass. She's certainly not had enough to even be feeling it, but there is an awkwardness about being caught in her pajamas now that she's really in charge again here. "...Whatever support you need, Melinda, you know...I've got you back. Just be straight with me and I'll move the world to make certain you can do what you do best."

Melinda May has posed:
"I know, Peggy," Melinda says quietly. She smirks slightly. "That'll be a little easier, now, since your clearance outranks mine for a change." There *were* things, before, she wasn't allowed to say. Now... their situation is reversed. But, May's okay with that. After all... Peggy was Director when May was a probie.

"There are angles within angles to all this," she sighs. "Too many for either of us to break, tonight." Nor likely within the next few days. But you never know.

She doesn't mention her concern over Daniel, however. Not because she's hiding it, but because she doesn't know what to do with it. Without a plan of attack, she's just idling on the runway and there's no point revving the engines. "It's been one hell of a week."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Honestly, I'm just staring at the ceiling at this point. We should have a proper meeting and you can put requests in to me when I'm not sitting in a bathrobe. I should head back to bed. We both should. Daniel's still asleep or he'd have been out here with us so... while he's here, I should enjoy the chance." And maybe even give him the good news, if she hasn't yet.

Peggy then slowly unfolds from the chair, frame aching with nothing she can specifically name except for basic tension. She starts gathering the glasses, putting them in the sink to be dealt with in the morning. "Get some sleep, May. I'll do the same. Fresh eyes on it all in the morning."

Melinda May has posed:
May chuckles softly, smile wry and drawn. She tosses Peggy a sloppy salute, brushed casually off her brow. "Yes, chief." But her eyes soften when she does. And, indeed, it doesn't take her long to stir, pulling herself to her feet and gathering up both her mugs for the sink.

Then, she grabs her tablet and tucks it under her arm. "If I didn't say it before," she tells her friend, "congratulations. I wondered how long it'd be before Fury did something like this." Peggy's too good, too long-respected in the agency, to really be left out of the loop at the highest levels for long. She smirks slightly. "Though he totally killed my plan to drag you into STRIKE with me. But Sharon will do."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The congratulations gets a slightly softer look from her, but an earnest smile. May can probably feel the brief pulse of warmth and appreciation that comes in response to her words. May's respect really meant that much to Peggy, so it means the world that the woman agrees with the promotion. It lets Peggy feel a little more solid about it all. "Oh, I'll still be with you. They couldn't tie me to a desk before and they sure as shit can't now. But... thank you. It feels good to be... back. Really back."

With that, she starts heading towards the private quarters, "Sweet dreams, May... See you in the morning." And with a little, tired off hand salute, Peggy disappears into the shadows of the old hallway to rejoin her husband in bed.