8555/Getting Out on the 'Town'

Getting Out on the 'Town'
Date of Scene:	05 November 2021
Location:	Harry's Hideaway (Bar)
Synopsis:	Peggy tries to take Dottie out for a drink and to get her to relax. It turns out, Dottie doesn't relax very well and Peggy needs to try a different tactic.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Dottie Underwood

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Peggy Carter has posed:
It was on the firing range, somewhere Peggy knows that Dotty goes regularly, that the woman found her. But once the other brunette was done with her target practice, Peggy put her foot down and firmly said: "You're getting out of here. You need some fresh air. And I do too." And then it was a mystery. Peggy just telling her to trail along, don't ask too many questions, it'll be worth it.

The mystery leads them to jazz quartet night at Harry's Hideaway, just a few blocks from the Triskelion, but it feels like a different world.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie raised an eyebrow at the demand, but usually when Peg came to her with a proposition, something interesting happened. Besides at some point the heads of HYDRA would talk to each other and possibly realize that she - or two of her aliases - had been entertaining father, well bodyguard of the father, and son. And they weren't completely oblivious to the women in their beds -- unlike say the Starks. So eventually those bridges would burn to cinders and she will have outstayed her welcome and outlasted her usefulness.

Still, the destination is a surprise. "A bar, Peg?" she quips. "What's this?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"The jazz is good. And it wasn't far. And you could use a drink. Not to mention a night out. So... we're going to a bar. Maybe I'll even dance, if you ask nice enough." Peggy flashes her a smile, daring behind it. It's something old girlfriends would do, especially with music from their day and age. Now they weren't that, but the look in Peggy's eyes says she is planning on enjoying this. She leads the way inside to a quartet doing it's very best to be a big band. The pianist and the trumpter are good, at least.

"...Vodka, or are you going to have fun tonight?"

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie grins, a little too sharp and a little too feral. "You're drinking whiskey?" It's phrased as a question, but is an assumption.

She discretely surveys the establishment: exits through the main door; the kitchen; probably also the toilets. Old habit. But one that's kept her alive for almost a century. Safe enough.

Besides, the band isn't half bad. This could be fun. "I'll have what you're having," Dottie purrs.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"...Coca-cola tonight, actually. I'd say tea, but I don't know that I trust this place to even have *Lipton*." The way Peggy's nose turns at the thought of Lipton is like someone offered her sewage on a plate. It's also incredibly British. But she leads the way down into Harry's, the band already going loud and the hostess motioning her to a little corner table where both their backs can be protected sitting catty corner on either side. Peggy, apparently, made reservations.

"Oh, come now...surely you'll do better anything than coke." Peggy looks up to the bartender, stopping there on the way to their little corner. "Coke and two fingers of Lagavulin, with a single rock. Thank you." Yes, Peggy was just going to order for Dottie. She's feeling bossy that way.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie's eyebrow raises again at the empty table. And the drink order. And Peggy's non-alcoholic choice. "Peggy?" She teases out the question.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Hmm?" Peggy asks simply, slipping a card across the bar and then scooping up both of their drinks to move to the side table. "I promise you, this isn't some sort of... romantic date. I am still quite married to Daniel. But I didn't figure you'd relax unless you could be in a corner, I know I couldn't, so I called ahead." Peg chirps out simply, sliding Dottie's drink into the perpendicular chair to her own.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
"Bestill my heart," Dottie murmurs. "But what is the point of this all? You're usually much more *direct*."

Her expression doesn't change one iota when Peggy mentions her husband. Still the corner table was...thoughtful. And the drinks were an *interesting* choice.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While Dottie is fairly good at reading people, Peggy's answers are really quite genuine. It might be surprising, but she's not trying to conceal anything. At least, not about why she brought Dottie here. "You have been working with us..." Not *for* us, she's careful in her language, "For months now. You barely leave other than to keep your cover in Brooklyn and keep working the other case. You might be hesitant to call yourself a colleague or friend, but I'd like to call you both. So... that means we need to do more than spy on people together or fight. As *shocking* as that sounds." Peggy takes a good sip of her coke, not thrilled about the choice either, but it is what it is.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie's gaze drifts to Peggy's abdomen. And back to her drink. But she doesn't say anything about her suspicions. Instead, she takes a sip of her scotch. It's not vodka but it'll do. It seems she's drinking for two.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The look to her stomach draws a slightly too-protesting gaze from Peggy, jaw a little dropped. "That... that isn't the ONLY reason...someone refrains from a drink!" She huffs, but the protest is exactly too much. It seems Dottie's suspicions have nailed it in one.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie rolls her eyes and doesn't bother to pursue the subject. Instead she pointedly drinks more of her scotch. "I didn't ask," she says.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Yes, well... Very well then. I cannot admit knowing what you *actually* enjoy for fun. We can toss each other around on some matts at the gym on another day, if you prefer. But when we met... when this all started... This was good good music, and escaping on leave for one night on occasion was a very nice reprieve. So... welcome to *my* reprieve. Maybe you can show me yours next." Peggy deeply seems to mean that, doing her best to make what outreach she can, even if it's awkward and a little clunky. It's been years since she actively tried to make a friend, much less one like Dottie with whom she has so much history.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie blinks at the notion. Her silence perhaps clues Peggy in to just how foreign the idea of reprieve is to Dottie. She remembers Iowa. And a sick shiver crawls over her skin. She swallows a quarter of her glass, rather than respond.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Hey. Dot." Peggy reaches over and, unless Dottie fully pulls away, lets her hand rest very gently on the back of Dottie's wrist. Not the hand cuffs wrist, but the one free of bruises from Dottie's old life. She doesn't squeeze or hold, she just makes a moment of contact there. "I know your life has been hell. HYDRA... the Red Room.. not even your own mind ever lets you stop. And you can keep running back to that. Or, if you've got enough strength, maybe you can make a life for yourself. And it's going to be bloody awful and hard. But... I think it's worth it."

Her head dips, searching for Dottie's eyes even if the woman doesn't let her touch her. "They see you as nothing but a weapon. You have always been more than a weapon to me."

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie freezes at the touch, prepared to fight. Or flee. But Dottie's always been a fighter. She sneers. "You saw a weapon too. You just found a different trigger. We're not the same, Peggy. It took me a long time, but I know that now."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slightly deeper smirk crosses her lips, "Not just a weapon. A brilliant spy, an effective woman...and someone who was horribly used by people who did not care if she was dead or alive. Yes. I asked you to do things. But I broke you out of that cell too, knowing it was as likely we would lose you as you come back to us. I am *not* them. But you have to decide who *you* want to be." Peggy murmurs softly. Then her hand withdraws and she's sitting a bit straighter, like they didn't just have a very dangerous conversation.

Dottie Underwood has posed:
Dottie doesn't say anything. She finishes her drink. Quickly. If she stays still, if she thinks, she'll have to kill someone. Just to regain a certain amount of control. Too many people from her past keep resurfacing to tell her that she has to be something different. That she has to decide. That she needs to grasp hold of the illusion of freedom and stop being herself. They want to saddle her with regrets she's never felt.

"Thanks for the drink, Peg," Dottie says with a too flirtatious smirk. "You sure know how to treat a gal." And she gets up to leave. Breezy, friendly, utterly false.

Peggy Carter has posed:
There is a bittersweet smile that paints itself across Peggy's features, part of her realizing she might have pushed too far, too fast, but it's too late now. "Any time, Dot." Peggy calls after just as lightly, just as falsely. She doesn't follow her out the door, she'll stay nursing the coke and trying to enjoy the band, as the rest of her mind is hundreds of miles and decades of years away.