Owner	Pose
Peggy Carter	Recovery from massive amounts of genetic damage and experimental cryo-freezing was all about baby steps, but Peggy had been taking them steadily for several weeks now. Daily physical therapy, every health marker improving as the days go on, system tolerating even the most basic of foods so, tonight, she's getting to take a far larger step. A full, proper dinner. Whatever she wanted (within reason.) Her exact state and recovery are still classified, but the rumors have been going around SHIELD enough about her presence that she's been let out to roam. The freedom and the scent of food were both heady enough to make a woman almost drunk. She's in a simple pair of dark, high waisted slacks with wide enough legs they could fit in with the 40s or modern styles. A yellow summer button down blouse to match, tucked neatly in, and her hair down in it's soft, usual waves. She looks more like her initial SHIELD photos than the sharp, distant, strong power suits of the 80s and more recent press, but they asked her what would be most comfortable, and this was it. She's still not quite up to high heels, a pair of comfortable flats making it easier to walk with that cane she barely needs now, but it's there to support as she wonders through the food court, fighting the quiet choice paralysis of too many tempting flavors. Her stomach growls.
Bobbi Morse	It's a cheat day. Cheat days are sloppy joe, fries and a soft boiled egg split its yoke all over them. A bit of sauce, a chocolate milkshake, a backup coffee. 'merica. This has been Bobbi's traditional "blow off eating healthy" approach since Georgia Tech and it's served her well. Her eyebrows raise as she sees Peggy has come out of the medical wing finally. She has her food on a tray and then feels the buzzing of her tablet against her thigh. She quickly gets her tray down on a table top and pulls it out. "Another one. Hm," she murmurs to herself as she looks over the map of New York City and New Jersey where minor tremor blips keep hinting at potential neo nazi activity. She flicks past screens to check on some other things.. latest report on Lance Hunter, latest report on tracking down stolen SHIELD tech, the report on the weird weapon the neo nazi's used to copy Quake's ability. She slides in to a seat and hopes she'll be joined.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	Today is an interesting day. It is not because Mik is particularly hungry, that is just normal. No, he is actually in a pleasant mood by default, and only has drank a little. Another sign of it being a strange day is Mik wearing real clothes instead of a sweatshirt and sweatpants. He is in a black suit with a white shirt and dark tie. The joy of occasionally having to dress like an adult in this job. The Russian has acquired a small mountain of food on his plate and notices Bobbi and gives a nod, "Bobbi. I hope I am not intruding?" He sets his tray down on the table, and then sees the tablet, but knows better to take a peek, "Is there problem?" Then he sees Peggy, though he is not one-hundred percent certain. Just to be sure he gives her a nod as well, and says "Salutations." He is not as well informed as the average bear, but he can at least try to be polite.
Peggy Carter	Finally, something she absolutely knows she wants, and it's fresh out from the kitchen, catches her eye. Just because it's dessert doesn't mean a damn thing, she's been cooped up too long. The dark haired woman grabs a plate of still steaming apple pie and a fork, content to start there and work her way backwards. The selection was certainly better than her day as well. She then turns to the room, actually giving herself a moment to look around, to dare search any familiar faces and just how much the place has changed. Bobbi is lit upon a moment later, but Peggy hesitates in her crossing to the woman when she sees another joining her. "...I was just about to ask the same." The woman's still British clipped accent offers gently. Decades in this country and she's never lost it. "If I'm not, looks like there is plenty of room for all of us. I'm just happy to be out of upstairs." Peg admits with a slightly wry smirk to red painted mouth. Someone brought her all her familiar favorites.
Bobbi Morse	Bobbi smiles to assault-bear and Peggy, she motions to the chair, "Please, sit." She wiggles her eyebrow and snaps her tablet shut, sliding it back in to her thigh pants pocket. She's dressed to kill (sometimes), in tight black shield combat gear with a few custom Mockingbird improvements hidden away. She even has her staves on her back. She looks at his mountain of food and Peggy's choice of apple pie, "Nice," then back to hers and smiles. "Delicious." A junior agent walks over to Bobbi and salutes, "Ah Ma'am, can I please have a moment of your time." Bobbi looks to him and frowns, "This is food time, what is the rule about food time." "Food time is not work time, food time is sacred time for food, I will remember to schedule a meeting like a normal person Ma'am," the junior agent recites.. clearly having bothered Bobbi at lunch numerous times before. "Sorry ma'am!," he dashes off. Bobbi turns her eyes back to Mikhail, "Not shadow monster levels of dire, no. But I just get this sense that there's a puppet master out there pulling some strings and we're about to get a glimpse of it." A wicked little smirk crosses her face and she says to Mikhail, "Have you met my daughter, Peggy?" The mischievous glint casts Peggy's way. "This is Agent Uriokovitch. He is quickly distinguishing himself in the field."
Mikhail Uriokovitch	Mik watches the junior agent be dealt with, and makes a couple of notes for himself of what not to do, though disturbing someone's dinner ought to be a capital offense. Bobbi's comment on the monster gets a serious frown, "That is not good. I hope we find solution soon, though my skills could be of use if we find puppet man." Peggy gets a smile from Mik, who replies with, "Da, please feel free to join us. You at least bring good choice of food." His accent is quite heavy, "Good to meet you, I did not know you had daughter, Agent? Though she does seem familiar," the large man takes a few moments to think, before giving up for the time being, "I assume you are agent, Peggy?"
Peggy Carter	The interaction with the junior agent gets a long look and a loft of both of her brows, barely able to restrain a smirk of amusement on red lips, pressing them into a line instead and quite too-casually studying the apple pie she's picked for her dinner. It's at the unwise to eat still probably boiling on the inside state of having just come out of the oven, but she's also craving it enough that it might be worth the risk. "...You trained them better than I have. Though, this was also why I generally took meals in office. The moment they see your face, they'll be asking something..." Peggy mutters with an all too understanding tone to her clipped voice. The 'mother' thing gets a slightly longer look and a genuine smirk, perplexed for but a heartbeat but then the realization hits her and she just chuckles throatily. "It's a touch...complicated, but I suspect you approve of my service rather more than my proper mother." Peggy mutters, before dark eyes look back to the other agent, narrowing a bit more. The last name lit up something in her head and now she's studying his face. "...Uriokovitch... Mutant? Are you related to the mutant asset that was working with the soviets in the 60s? Or... " Her eyes narrow a bit more, "I'd say you being him is impossible, but there is very little impossible nowadays, as I've learned."
Bobbi Morse	"Well, like many other female agents, you inspired me to push myself and now I walk around in tight fitting combat armor. Life goals and all that," Bobbi replies to Peggy waving a chip casually as a prop baton. "Mikhail this is Director Peggy Carter, founding member of SHIELD, inspiration to many, recently recovered from a long long nap." Bobbi starts to eat. She gets a happy little but wiggle at the warm delicious food. "Mmhmm, that hits the spot, always." She takes a sip of the chocolate milkshake and then replies to Mikhail, "Food time is technically off duty time, so please call me Bobbi. No need for rank when I'm not actually thinking about my job." Well that was a bold faced lie. Anyone with her level of seniority never 'switches off'.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	Mik listens and then watches as the realization creeps in as to who Peggy is, first by her question and then the statement by Bobbi. "Oh," is all he can muster as he munches on one of his five sandwiches and finds his words, or at least the English ones. "I am not related, I am he. When I defy orders, they put me in gulag, and then on ice. Eventually I thaw, and then I leave. No longer weapon for Russian government." He gives a frown at that, but then lets /who/ Peggy is sink in. "My apologies, Director, and... Bobbi," at least he could be making a worse impression, at least he isn't incredibly drunk at this point in time. "I did not know." The Russian is not mortified or embarrassed, just trying to process, "It seems you and I had a similar vacation, then. I hope yours was more pleasant than mine. But, I am happy you are back, though I know little of your work, save what little was filtered down to us back home."
Peggy Carter	The comment about food time not being duty time gets a pointed arch of Peggy's right brow and she flickers a gaze straight back down to the table that Bobbi DID put away, but had been studying at the beginning of this all. Peggy doesn't miss a lot, even when she's seemingly struggling over a pie to choose. "Like wise... I do not know that the title quite stands, I'd be happy with Peggy Carter the breathing, right now, but yes. The soviets always were a bit ahead of us on cryo tech..." How both of them survived, technically. "I'm glad we offered better benefits in the long run." Peggy gives a smile which is something straight out of the cold war. Any win over the soviets is still VERY much a victory in her head. "There is no reason to apologize, I'm still quite getting caught up myself. I'm just... glad to be awake now."
Bobbi Morse	Someone ought to have told her the soviet union collapsed while she was asleep.. right? that's a thing one tells a Peggy upon her recovery. "Has browsing the archives and newspapers been enlightening? there's quite a lot of history between then and now. Since Steve's re..turn." She looks to Peggy for a moment and then continues, "We've been getting better at preparing reorientation packs for nap survivors." There have been so many.. one day this Triskelion will be a home for immortals only. "Much of our modern technology is similar to what was in prototype before your rest Peggy.. just significantly smaller physically and bigger conceptually. Like the internet and tablets and cell phones and space technology.. and and and." She smiles and resumes eating her debaucherous lunch.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Very well, Peggy," Mik says politely as he continues his trek through his food. "The fact I am not weapon, and and treated as real person goes long way to earning trust," he notes and nods to Bobbi, "Da, that is good plan. I missed so much on ice. Though glad I missed end of Cold War. Could have gone worse." A little bit of optimism from the Russian agent. "Russia kept most good Soviet tech, hence why they thawed me out when time was right." He sighs, "But that is how it goes. Key is that we are now free, and at least food is better, here."
Peggy Carter	"The reorientation guides have been... useful. It's frustrating because summarizing 30 years in a series of major world events... I know it doesn't cut it. I'd read that much in a week just to keep up to date on world politics and current threats as I've read about the things I've missed. But it's a good start." The look in Peggy's dark eyes is one of a woman who probably lived 24/7 in her office, reading scads of analyst reports, scanning more comms traffic, and still keeping in the meat of it even while at a higher level position. She finally dives into the pie, taking a big, savouring bite. Some of that tension about the world and details she's missing just melts away at the taste of it. When she's finally swallowed, she mutters in a voice that is practically post-coital, "...alright, that was worth the wait." And then part of her remembers there are OTHER people here and she probably shouldn't be making love to the pie. "I was... hoping to see the end of that war, had my fingers a bit too deep in it. But... I guess I am quite glad we all just made it through in one piece." And without dropping bombs is the unstated implication there. "...and the food is better now than it was on this side of the world back then too." She grins, digging into another bite.
Bobbi Morse	Bobbi starts chuckling, which develops in to a full laugh as she watches that guilty look of Peggy's. It's good to break from the seriousness from time to time. Levity. "I'm taking notes.. never travel in to the past, the food isn't as good." She smirks and eats some of her chips. "I'm not sure if you were much for coffee before, but you might find a taste for it now." She takes a sip of her coffee, then her milkshake, letting the two tastes mix in her mouth. "I find the concept of treating someone as a 'weapon', Mikhail, quite horrifying. You're a lovely chap and I'm glad you can spread your claws here with us." Her eyes turn back to Peggy and she asks, "What next though. Retirement? field work? analysis? science? upper management? kick Fury out of his seat?" Her eyes glance side long when she throws out that suggestion.. you never know when he might sneak up on you.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Da, food is better, so is booze," Mik says bluntly and with a nod, "But you get used to being little behind on times. Fortunately, most agents help fill in gaps." He has already begun working on the rest of his meal, though he notes the coffee reference and wobbles his hand, "Coffee is not better, about same." Peggy's reaction to the pie gets a chuckle from Mik. This mirth dissipates when Bobbi mentions the weapon, "Indeed, it is why I left. Was weapon when they found me at five years, though my fate was better than mutants before me." A pause, "I got to live."
Peggy Carter	The older woman is on the edge of blushing at Bobbi's chuckle, because she absolutely knows what that look was. "...Sometimes pie really is *that* good." She states flatly to the other agent, deciding to own it instead of leaning into the awkward. That was most of Peggy's life, to be honest. "...I'll probably get a second. But I should, perhaps, try actual food and not just dessert." SHe doesn't look all that tempted by that thought. "And no, despite you Americans obsession with the stuff, I've found tea to be all I ever really need. Your selection here has been more than acceptable, so far." That next question gets a set of her jaw, an honest, thoughtful gaze. Peggy doesn't rush into answering it, just exhales a slow breath. "...I think it will be some time before I am prepared for command again, at least on an organizational level. The amount of up to date information you need to keep in your head..." She shakes her head slightly, "Field work, probably, as soon as I am cleared. It'd be nice to be active again. I was stuck behind a desk far too many years."
Bobbi Morse	Bobbi nods her head thinking of how field work has changed in the last decade, let alone since the 60s. "I look forward to kicking butt with my personal hero and 'its complicated' daughter." She winks to Peggy and then grins broadly. "And just wait til you see Mikhail with a combat rifle in each arm in full bear mode." She whistles, "That is a sight that I'll never ever forget. So glad he was on our team." Bobbi resumes working on her sloppy joe, but she's not going to finish this oversized American meal. She never does. She knows how stressful her job can get, though she likes it that way - too many things going on at once makes her feel alive. The idea of being stuck behind a desk is not something she'd be ready for yet. There's more than enough paperwork in this job as is. She wonders what a smaller, leaner SHIELD would be like. "I'd be happy to help you with hand to hand combat.. and I'd also say quinjet piloting but I don't want to get in a three way fight between May and Danvers over that one." She always loses the quinjet piloting priority game.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	Mik raises a brow at the conversation between Bobbi and Peggy, and has since gone past his second sandwich into his third, "Tea is all right, here," he shrugs. When the topic shifts to desk work, Mik takes the time to eat and think, "Field work is not so bad, though I have yet to be given desk job, but field teams work well together, it seems." He laughs at Bobbi's description of his most recent field work, "Da, that I do. I have had idea for future fight, but will need to speak with R and D about it. Ideally, it involves me getting bigger rifle." A wide grin crosses his face, though he does give a solemn nod, "But we all have our role, and you will be welcome in field. Best to show these children how fighting is really done."
Peggy Carter	Mikhail gets a longer look as she hears Bobbi's praise of his work and Peggy cannot help but grin at him a little. "So, uh...You truly turn into a bear? I thought for certain that was a mistranslation in the file, or a particularly skittish agent. But we didn't know much about mutants back then and..." Peggy chuckles softly, shaking her head to him, "There was a betting pool over you at one point, in '64, I think... For what it's worth, I am glad you never actually ate one of my agents." She gives him a little wink, maybe teasing about that betting pool but probably not. She kills another bite of her pie, nearly finished with the thing already. So much for savoring. "I look forward to getting back into the field in... whatever capacity seems best. Right now it's still a lot of PT and getting back to where I *was* before things got... bad. I wasn't myself for months before we decided freezing was the best option. I'm just glad they let me out of the medical wing, finally. And I spoke with Captain Rogers... and Lieutenant Barnes. We have some unfinished business with HYDRA as well, it seems. So... there will be much to do when I'm back in fighting form. I suspect I'll survive without learning to pilot this... Jet of yours."
Bobbi Morse	Bobbi raises an eyebrow, "A bigger rifle. Hmm. Well I'm sure R&D will do you justice." She grins, her imagination starting to wander at the possibilities. Bobbi lets out a long sigh, "HYDRA, AIM, Neo nazis, Yakuza, The Brotherhood, The Syndicate, The League of Assassins.. the list of bad actors active right now is insane. Not to mention all the ones we don't have a name for yet." It has never quite sat well with Bobbi that she is technically a Captain. She's not military, she's all spy, much like Peggy. The ranks of SHIELD are a real thing but she prefers to think of herself as 'level 7' - somehow that stupid numbering system means more to her than military ranks. Still.. when walking on to a military base, it's useful to have that rank to back up her orders. It can save lives. "You'll miss out, trust me the quinjet is a lot of fun to pilot." She smirks and says, "Lots of technology to get acquianted with for field operations. Speaking of which, I need to go see the quartermaster for this neo nazi raid... as if we don't have enough problems with yet more home grown terrorists."
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Da," Mik grins and takes a long drink, "I turn into literal bear, though at least I keep thumbs," he gestures accordingly, "And no, I did not eat agent. I do not eat people, though rumors help keep threats at bay." He cautiously looks side to side, and winks back. He gets a little more comfortable in his chair and nods as the other names ar e read off. "Da, new times, old enemies, new names. It is way of things, it seems." He nods to Bobbi, "That is plan, I only have bad ideas, and this will be no exception." A laugh follows and then he turns to Peggy, "You can do it, just do your best and stick to training, but do not rush. It will hurt you, learn from my mistakes."
Peggy Carter	"...Took a bit to get the ice out of your veins too, hm?" Peggy asks Mikhail with some honest sympathy behind her voice. The sort of exhausted understanding of someone who is probably dreading what it'll take out of her just to get up to the medical ward again, even if she'd never admit it out loud. There is the faintest edge of pain and bone deep weakness still behind her eyes, she's just gotten much better at pushing through it as she does go forward in recovery. Then looking back to Bobbi, the list of enemy organizations gets a faint blink. "...Bloody hell. Guess... I'm back just in time. If you can have them send whatever they are willing to give me in files on every name you just gave, I'll get into the study tonight." She gives Bobbi a little nod and brief, warm wave, "Good luck with it all, don't let them tell you they don't have the equipment. They always have it. They just know it'll get damaged and get cranky about it. But you probably know that."
Bobbi Morse	The comment that the quartermaster in the past didn't like to lend out equipment surprises her. "Some things really have changed.. SHIELD has so much funding and such incredible R&D they're always looking for excuses to push new tech out on to the field." Her lips thin for a moment as she contemplates just what it is she could have sent to Peggy, without any current clearance level.. on the one hand it's Director Carter, on the other she is currently a guest here, not an agent. She'll have to see what Hill thinks on the matter.. surely they can assign her an intermediate security clearance like they do for contractors. "Hm, if you'll both excuse me I need to get back to work. The work is never done... as I'm sure you both know all too well."
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Indeed, took a bit of time, but I still made it into the field, so there is plenty of hope for you," Mik says cheerfully as he moves to his fourth and fifth sandwiches, one in each hand. "R and D is helpful, and even let me go near their toys." It wasn't anything fancy, but he was there for the talk on the Shadows, and saw others in action in the raid on the the black market, "Though I still prefer older styles for field work, less likely to stop working."
Peggy Carter	"Be well, Bobbi. We will catch up again soon." Peggy gives the other woman a brief wave, but doesn't delay her any longer, even if the news about equipment does seem to surprise her, pleasantly so. She looks back to Mikhail, dark eyes vaguely impressed at the news, "...I fought for that funding for... Decades and decades. I'm glad to see that most of it has pulled through to the point that they are pushing things even more experimentally. I'll say that things are supposed to change for the better, as the years go on... and even if the world hasn't, it seems that SHIELD has." Peggy finishes the last bite of her pie, not escaping to get another slice but now fully studying the agent across from her. "How long did it take you to recover... from waking up?"
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Have a good day, Bobbi," Mik says to the departing agent and turns to Peggy, "Good, treat your people well, equip them well, and they will serve well." He sits back and thinks, "Change is not always for better, but change is constant, goal is to make it better." The Russian rubs his chin as he thinks, "We do our best, but at times in spite of what we are given. The only change I saw was a new flag and new masters, but it the same goal. Here it is different and there is hope, likely from work you did." When the topic shifts to thawing, Mik ponders, "It took bit of time, but it varies by person. I also was hurried along by my handlers. It was strange time and they needed us then and there. Though they did not /need/ us, they /wanted/ us to project power."
Peggy Carter	The story of Mik's thawing, even if he's not going into deep details, brings a faint frown to Peggy's lips. That old dislike, the stories she heard from the other side. She gives a faint nod of understanding, "It's a miracle your body was able to sustain such recovery, especially that quickly. But then, I'll admit to knowing little about mutant physiology. And I'm certain the file we had on you read like a pulp novel as much as actual information. The 60s were a... wild west time." Peggy admits, though there is a fond, nostaglic smile on her face for that era of SHIELD.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Da, it was strange time, then, and now... they were able to take care of my injuries when I was pushed too hard. Also fortitude like bear helps," Mik nods and snorts, "You will do fine, SHIELD takes care of its people, and you are no exception." The talk of his file gets a grin, "Heh, I am sure it is interesting, though it has been updated since. I am curious what old country has in your file." He grins and finishes his food, "You got this far for reason, you will go farther."
Peggy Carter	"Your old country sent an old... friend... To attempt an assassinate me more than once. It was as much luck as being at the top of my own game that he never quite succeeded, but I always got the impression they did not like me very much. The feeling was mutual." Peggy states with a poised bit of a smirk. For a Brit to reveal she doesn't much like someone? Well, the seering hatred between her and the Soviets must have gone quite deeply. "I wasn't frozen until 1985... saw all the way into the messiest parts of what you now call the cold war. It was just... silent war, at that time. But war never the less." She also must have something special about her because, while there is an air of age to her voice, she doesn't look a day over her middle 30s.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	Mikhail Uriokovitch says, "That I believe," Mik says solemnly, the Russian still in a good mood. "I read about some of that. Glad I missed Afghanistan, and collapse of Soviet Union. Would have made things more difficult." He thinks and drains the remainder of his cup, "But war never ends, it only changes clothes." The man has spent most of his life on ice, but has seen enough to know that much, "But we do best we can. Find peace where it can be found, and try to keep it as long as it will stay. It is constant cycle.""
Peggy Carter	"Yes, yes it is... Even when things seem better..." She sighs, looking back after the way Bobbi left, "That list of new enemy organizations alone, though a few of them were on our radar in my day, it's... worse. Or, about the same, just a different area of warfare, especially with technology. I'll take the digital threats above sending thousands of men and women out into the field, though." There is still an expression on her face that doesn't trust it, perhaps just the wariness of how much has changed in modern days, but there's something deeper. A woman who doesn't trust governments who say they are doing it to protect people. She's got the look of someone who has never really stopped fighting war in her mind. "...ANyway, this is horribly droll conversation, I'm certain. Forgive me. The temptation to just jump to work is... great."
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Eh, they are like weeds. Dig one up, more pop up in its place," Mik notes, "Best we just keep digging them out by root." He gestures to such. "Da, that is change I have yet to fully grasp, but hurting money and websites is better than directly hurting people. And do not apologize. It could be far worse," Mik points to the pie plate, "There is pie. So at worst, it is mixed day, because there is pie. Also cake." He nods firmly.
Steve Rogers	Even super-soldiers need a break from paperwork. Steve leaves his office, its door even sporting a placard with his title on it, rubbing the back and his neck and sighing. The idea of a piece of cake and coffee while checking in on the Avengers communication feed seems like a good idea right now. There's a distant weariness to his poise that he sheds as he turns to walk down the hallways towards the cafeteria. Thus, he arrives in a white button-down, crisp and clean with sleeves rolled to his elbows, tucked into jeans and combat boots. His attention is decidedly half on his phone plucked from his pockets and those golden brows are knitted in concern. Who did WHAT now? It's only after he's slipped the phone away and collected himself a slice of cake along with a cup of coffee that he glances up and across the cafeteria. His movements pause and then come to a stop, plate in one hand and mug in another. That's...unexpected, the occupants of that particular table. Still: a centering sigh and he begins to walk over not necessarily cautiously, but with an air of expecting the unexpected.
Peggy Carter	A husky chuckle escapes her lips, "There is pie, and I don't think when the doctor said I could go get some real food he meant that I should gorge myself on nothing but the fresh pie in the cafeteria, but he also didn't *not* say that..." Peggy states with a pointed little smile, staring down at her empty plate for a moment with the look of a woman who is definitely considering going back for seconds. "And it's been... good meeting you. Properly. I'm sorry we didn't get you out of their hands back in the day but we were fairly certain you were just trying to kill all of us. And... we're both here now. I'll take that win, at least." She hasn't quite looked over yet to catch sight of Steve, because the moment she considers getting up from the table she's probably going back for more pie. Besides, she seems to be enjoying the conversation with the other agent. She's dressed today, someone brought her clothes, a pair of high waisted, wide legged dark pants and a spring-yellow, button down silk shirt. A classic combination, but the cut is all the 40s style that has come back into surge with the modern day vintage wave. She even has her preferred red of lipstick on, almost entirely looking her old self but she's still down too much weight, something a touch frail beneath the armor of business clothes.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Instructions unclear, should eat more pie," Mikhail says solemnly, "But yes, enjoy what you can, though I am not one to advise moderation. It would be wrong." The biggest glutton in the Triskelion has no room to criticize. But today, at least he is dressed for business, in the almost uniform black suit and tie with white button up agents are expected to wear from time to time, instead of his usual workout gear (which is much easier to replace if he has to transform). He nods to Peggy, "You did not know, and depending on when, I would have tried to kill you for my own sake. It... was hard time. But it is past, and I can only change future." He gives a weak smile at that and says, "Though if you are getting more pie, could you please grab me a piece?" He also has not noticed Cap, yet, but the conversation has his attention.
Steve Rogers	Steve's throat works. The table's now within easy conversational hailing distance and still, words are mothballs in the back of his throat, fluffy and difficult to formulate. Ten feet and closing. He sighs to himself and would reach to rub at the back of his neck again, but his hands are full -- damnit. And there he is, approaching properly at an oblique angle so both agents can see him, perhaps a respectful move on his part as to not startle anyone. "Afternoon." His voice is even, his smile twitching into being almost again with care. His true-blues shift between Mikhail and to Peggy. "Mind if I join you both?"
Peggy Carter	The request for a piece of pie makes Peggy grin a bit more, "Well, I suppose if you'd like a piece, I'd hate to have you eat alone. We'll see if they've put out anything else fresh." She winks at him, "The least I can do for any attempts we made to kill each other fifty years ago. All in strange life circumstances, you know." And then Peggy shifts out of the table, moving still a bit slow and stiffly, especially balancing a plate now, but she's moving without great amounts of help. She's even abandoned her dark cane behind at the edge of the seat she'd chosen. She wasn't expecting to see him. Steve finally getting the courage to approach and wave, she goes dead still for a heartbeat or two, staring at him with far too awake, wide, dark eyes. She looks entirely closer to her old self now, those strange raw patches of her skin almost entirely gone, as well as the bruising, "S-Steve... Of... Of course. I was just about to get us more... Pie. I take it you know Mikhail, already? Please, sit... Would you like something? I'll be back, just a moment." And, once she gets if he'd like food or not, she quickly escapes to the buffet area. It'll give her a moment to compose herself.
Mikhail Uriokovitch	Mik looks to the new arrival, "Da, you may join us!" His tone is jovial, because pie is en route. "And thank you, Peggy. See, peace can be achieved by food, who knew?" He laughs to himself and then turns his attention to Steve, "You should try the pie, it is rather good, it seems."
Steve Rogers	"Oh, 've got..." And off Peggy goes, rather spritely for how worn she yet appears. Steve looks over at Mihkail as he speaks as to the other desserts available and then glances down at his plate in what appears to be temporary bafflement. A blink. "Got cake this time," he finishes almost lamely before seeming to compose himself again. "Afternoon, Agent Uriokovitch." Setting down his coffee and then his plate of cake, fork still balanced with envious skill along the plate's edge, he seats himself with a straight back and air of formality. "Figure 'll try the pie next time. Just...came out to take a break from paperwork," he shares with his fellow agent, attempting to smile and succeeding to an extent.
Peggy Carter	It's not long to get two more slices of pie -- this time the fresh selection was black berry -- and it's probably good that Steve already had a tray because Peggy had no clue how she'd juggle three plates. But she manages back before too long, a bit out of breath probably from the spriteliness as much as the activity, but she's good at swallowing it back and giving a smile that does it's best to pretend she could run a marathon right now. She very much couldn't, but it's nice to dream. She sets one slice across from Mikhail, "Hope you like blackberries. The fresh out of the oven was more tempting than apples." She seems to have gotten quite comfortable with the other agent over their conversation. Then she's settling back in herself, catty-corner to Steve, the way they'd sit in the mess hall far too many times decades ago. It had the strangest air of normalcy, even if the background behind them was all wrong. "I wondered where they'd buried you... or you had buried yourself. Paperwork? Something go messy, or is it a good... Distraction?" Peggy dares to ask, trying to be casual about it, like two colleagues talking the mission of the week. Casual isn't exactly easy, though. "And Agent Uriokovitch, if you meant it about helping with training, I'm sure I'll be up for a bit of sparring soon..."
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Cake is also good," Mik notes with approval, "Agent Rogers, it is good to see you, hopefully paperwork is not too burdensome," the Russian says with his typical heavy accent. Peggy's return gets a grin as the pie is delivered, "I have yet to meet pie I did not like." He tries it and is pleased. Taking a few moments to eat as the other two talk, Mikhail is genuinely happy munching away until the mention of sparring is brought up, "When you are cleared, I will gladly spar you. Though I warn you, you should read what happened to group that was sent to my assessment." It did not go well for them. They did not believe he would turn into a bear. Mistakes were made. Mik then turns again to Steve, "I do hope things are going well?"
Steve Rogers	Sip coffee, put mug down, no spilling: excellent. Infuriating how the more normal actions suddenly become a thing of split interest in cases like this. "Burdensome...yes 'nd no. Distraction's a good way to put it." The admission comes with a faint smile almost apologetic in its way. The background is entirely wrong, but there she is, seated as they tended to be so long ago, and Steve too can do his absolute best to keep the abnormality to a minimum. "Lots to juggle these days...'nd it's amazing how much can be done in four hours with folks clamoring over an SR-2200." Said with delicate irony, it's insinuated by the Captain that little -- little gets done in those four hours. Ah, bureaucracy. He eats a bite or two of cake while sparring is discussed and potentially planned, his eyes downcast. When asked by Mik, he glances up again with that faint smile. "Probably as well as they can be given extenuating circumstances. Nice to have enough time to enjoy cake as it stands. Seems like a rarity." Or rather, this busy bumblebee rarely allows it of himself.
Peggy Carter	As Steve dares to admit that distraction is a good way to put it, Peggy's toe brushes the side of his foot under tha table. Just a little nudge, a motion of something reassuring, understanding, something easier to show in a brief touch than actually say. It was okay. That's all it meant. But she's doing her best to keep her tired smile in place as she cuts into the second slice of pie she's had tonight. "Considering the food they are offering here, I can't believe all of you aren't actually down every meal. I'm utterly certain *both* of you had rations and worst most of your previous careers, I know *I* was eating them. This is heavenly. Even if I should, perhaps, eat something that is not pie." Perhaps. That time is not now, as she dives into the second slice. Mikhail is given a wry look, slightly blackberry stained smile coming a heartbeat later, "Well, you'll have to go a little easy on this old woman, at least the first few times out of the gate. They had me stuck behind a desk a little too long for my taste."
Mikhail Uriokovitch	"Indeed, food has improved since 1950," Mik notes with some seriousness, having grown up in Soviet Siberia, yeah, he's in food heaven at this point. "But, as some say, I need 'gains,' whatever that means. I am large man, I need lots of food," he grins and nods to Steve, "Da, I understand. Sometimes there is too much paper, but it has purpose. I think." The topic of sparring gets a raised brow, "Then I will not go bear. But when you are ready you should find me." He nods and after finishing his pie, stands, "But I had best go. I have safety trainings to watch. Would rather be doing /real/ training," a grin, "But thanks for pie, Peggy, and Steve, it is good to see you again." With that, Mik departs.
Steve Rogers	His fork stops, just for a moment, in the act of cutting another piece of cake to eat at the feeling of the foot under the table. The Captain glances over at her for a second, brows faintly furrowed, and guesses that it's meant to be a comfort by the manner of her continued conversation and general air. "Normally elsewhere for some of the meals," he shares quietly. Glancing over at Mikhail again, he nods agreement. Food has improved in SPADES since the 1950s, much less earlier; Peggy lied not an ounce about the quality of rations. As Agent Uriokovitch stands to leave, Steve gives him a nod. "Looking forward to seeing this sparring in action. Have a good day," he wishes the agent. Once Mik has departed entirely, he looks back over at Peggy. The moment lingers and he breaks it by glancing down at his cake, still half-sliced by his fork. "Didn't know you were gung-ho for blackberry pie. Figured it'd've been something else." He glances over again, his smile still on the cusp of appearing.
Peggy Carter	The Russian agent is given one last smile and a little wave, "We'll get to the bear one of these days, I promise." Peggy calls after him, but he's got clearly other obligations and then, somewhat suddenly, she's left at the table alone with Steve. A very real, alive, vibrant Steve, not the man she only vaguely remembers from her sick bed half in a dream. Her mind racing and yet unable to grasp something that seems the right thing to say. His opening about the pie helps, at least. She gives the smallest of laughs as she toys with another black berry on the edge of her fork's tines. "I'm... not. I started with the apple. But it came out hot and something... Fresh, warm, flakey... It seemed the right choice. I should probably get something that's a proper dinner but this is the first meal they let me forage on my own and, while cafeteria food has improved, medical ward food has *not*. It's..." She gives him an almost guilty smile, lips a mix of her normal red and that touch of purple from black berries. "I guess I just felt like being horribly decadent. If just for a meal. Getting out of the medical ward *alone* feels like some grand vacation."
Steve Rogers	There, a laugh: good. It settles some nerves rattling around his shoulders and some twist in his stomach. Steve watches her face, marking the make-up in particular, and then actually finishing out cutting the bite of cake. He glances up again to catch the smile and returns it with more strength than the moon-pale version he's shown thus far. "Nothing wrong with a little decadence. Always a celebration to get back on your feet after some down time. Know well enough what it's like to want something simple as a cup of coffee 'nd everybody's telling you to stay down; to stay put, you're gonna bust the stitches if you move too fast." His gaze drops to his cake almost guiltily and one dimple dares to half-appear. "Medical ward's no piece of cake." Oh, it's so bad. Bah-dum-pssht. Steve eats that bite of cake to accent his point.
Peggy Carter	"There's still a few in medical that look at me like I'm some ticking time bomb but... Whatever they managed seems to have worked, for now, at least. And I'll take for now. Just..." And then exactly what he just said hits home as he bites that piece of cake and words die in her throat. She just *stares* at him, a deep smirk painting itself across her mouth now, before she shakes her head slowly. "Awful. That was absolutely rotten, Steve. I expect better of you. A... cake pun. Over dinner. Horrendous." She's doing everything she can to NOT crack a smile at his horrible joke, but it's hard. He knows that twitch around her eyes, when the general had said something ridiculous and they were just staring at each other across a map table, trying not to crack. Her eyes are smiling and doing that twitch now. She buries the laughter in another bite of pie, shaking her head slowly. "*Anyway*. Yes. It's been... miserable cooped up. I did finally see James. But now I've, at least, got permission to roam the rest of the facility. PT every day. It's... small steps. But it's steps." She admits softly, the laughter fading to a touch of shame at the pure exhaustion of existence right now. She digs into the last bite of her pie. At least she's got an appetite.
Steve Rogers	The paramount of innocence, Steve's expression, as he's berated as such for his twist of words. Terrible puns? Who, him? Even his next sip of coffee is nothing but reflective of untarnished sainthood. His glance over at her, however, is full of restrained amusement and self-satisfaction at having earned the response he wanted. Her news has him sobering into the more familiar cast of quiet attention. "One step at a time," he agrees quietly. "On to the next good thing." Maybe it's an echo from decades back, those words. He continues, setting down his fork as if it were too much to worry about for the moment. It leaves a third of the slice of cake remaining. "Wondered when Buck would see you. Let him know as soon as I could." Of course there are questions in his true-blue eyes about how the whole meeting went, but they're left unspoken. Instead, he reaches for his coffee, this a thing of safe familiarity.
Peggy Carter	Talking about all of it seemed a horribly tall mountain. There was so much there, especially as Peggy dared take a moment to just meet his pale blue eyes, far more alert and awake this time. It was undoubtedly her. Alive, vibrant, warmly her, even if she was fighting an entirely different battle now and she didn't like to show it. She didn't want him to see how tired she was still. There were reasons for that armor of make up before she ever left the medical ward. But if she didn't return now, he might see her break. She might even have to ask for help to *get* back. So, her eyes drop again, a breath later, to her plate. "I... I hope he visits again soon. I might have shocked him. No. I know... I did. But... I should be getting back. I got roaming privileges, but not long ones. We... we'll talk again... Soon? Soon. I'm not far. I promise." She gives him a smile that is a thousand pieces of words she can't quite form, before she grabs the cane that will be her lifeline to getting back to medical on exhausted frame. Before she picks up her plate, she dares give his shoulder a single, gentle squeeze. It wasn't the hug she wanted. It was something. She then grabs her plate to clear it and head out of the room before more emotions convince her different.
Steve Rogers	It flickers through his face and risks the set of his half-smile, hearing how shocked Barnes was to see another old friend up and about. Steadfastly, the mild expression remains as he sees her begin to falter. Steve sits up straighter in his seat, as if he meant to rise along with her in manners engraved bone-deep within him, but the sight of the cane brings him to check -- as does the squeeze of his shoulder. "Same here." Did he say aloud? Even he's not sure. Maybe his mind just thought it appropriate, but it never made it past his parted lips. She's out of reach by the time he thinks to reach up and counter-grip the fingers. His gaze follows her departure; the ghost of touch lingers in a replay to his mind growing fainter and fainter with her distance. Would she swat him if he showed up at her recovery room with some soliloquy about how she's made leaps and bounds in healing and the whole place should be taking note of her tenacity? Apparently, that's the plan, the Captain's mind made up in that stalwart way of his. Back to drinking his coffee now because that's easy. Familiar. Far less complicated than this whole affair. He sighs. At least there's cake.