Owner	Pose
Peggy Carter	While Peggy didn't *want* to be up in the morning, she had to be. She'd much rather have taken a long lay in, a deep soak in a bath, and a day off. But she had a deadline to meet a certain Frank Castle. So, as she mentioned the night before, she's up six hours after the boys cleared out of her room. A too-hot, too-quick shower followed as she tried to work some of the aches away, and she's now nursing her first cup of tea in her robe. Hair wet and down, normal pin curls not even a bother right now. The tiger balm and arnica Bucky gave her out for use before she gets fully dressed. It's a slightly slow morning, but not lazy. She's got work to do.
Steve Rogers	An artist's eye means attention to color -- but the colors on Peggy's shoulder hadn't been pretty ones and while Barnes had gotten her his arnica balm to add into her insanely-pungent menthol-laden balm in turn, it had fallen on Steve to find the sling. A quick in-and-out visit to the infirmary along with an idle comment about wanting to keep a sling handy -- "Y'know, old habits, squirreled a lot of things away back then," he'd said to the nurse with some dimpling -- And here he is at her door now, sling tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. In a long-sleeved cotton shirt of steel-grey today, sleeves rolled to his elbows, Steve knocks quietly at her door. "Peggy?"
Peggy Carter	That's a voice she knows all too well. "Mm... It's open." She calls, not moving quite fast enough to get to the *door* quickly, but she doesn't bother locking here. She trusts this place. However, she does get up to move back to the little kitchen counter so she can pour out another strainer of tea for him. One of her stronger selections, not quite American coffee strength, but it was like the deep gunpowder black tea she used to smuggle them all in the war. Some old habits never go away. She tosses him a slightly drowsy smile across her shoulder, still clearly mobile and functional, if not near 100 percent. "I managed out of bed. Have an appointment with a certain Frank Castle in..." She looks up to the clock, "2 hours."
Steve Rogers	It is Steve at the door and there he is entering, quickly and quietly despite his build. An equally-silent closure of the door behind him and he gives her a fond, polite smile. "Frank can be patient another two hours. More'n enough to see about this sling." Out it comes from his pocket, plucked and then set upon the kitchen counter after he's walked in. If he's taken noticed of Peggy's less than formal state, he makes no mention of it nor lets his eyes linger improperly. "But that's not the old gunpowder tea, is it?" The woman gets a heavier dimple to one side now, enough of a smile to flash some teeth as Steve glances from the cuppa to the maker.
Peggy Carter	"...It *is*. It's gently awful and completely unnecessary, there's far better varieties now, but... I can't ever seem to get rid of it. Nothing else quite tastes right." She tosses him a smile across her shoulder before finishing tapping out the pungent, smoky old tea from the far too fancy tin into the strainer. It was tea that was supposed to be stored in ration tins or mason jars, not some fancy little sliding thing off the internet. But she gets it where she can. She drops the straining ball into a fresh mug of hot water for him. Then she turns to him fully, looking over at that sling with a bit of a smirk. "I told you I'd be find without it, you know. Last thing I need is to march up to this unleashed attack dog with my belly up, looking injured and out of sorts. Never let them see your weakness." But, protesting or not, she does take the thing and looks it over quietly. "... I suppose it wouldn't hurt while at *home*..."
Steve Rogers	Now the man has taken up an easy lean against the next section of the counter in the kitchen, at its L-shaped tuck to the wall. His crossing of arms is loose, relaxed, his expression thoughtful as he watches her continue to prep the particular tea. Already the scent of it has memories crowding against the pane of his attention. Metal tin cup in his hand, at his lips -- burning his tongue and not caring because otherwise the cold would finally get past his boots and gloves -- laughing at something Barnes said and continuing to laugh when Dugan smarted back -- for just a second, Peggy's not in her robe, but in the make-shift mission mish-mash of gear and she's smarting back at Dugan in turn, making the Brit grin beneath his handlebar mustache -- And then Peggy's speaking to him. She'll still catch the twitch of the Captain returning fully to the present. "You bring back-up, you're not flashing belly," he notes quietly, tilting his head without dropping her gaze. "But wearing it at home, yes, 's'a wisdom." Says the man who's practically allergic to slings.
Peggy Carter	"..And when's the last time you wrapped up any ding you took, hmm? You might have that serum in you, but you're still human." Peggy gives him a little, pointed look as she says that, but there's a warmth behind her eyes. She's not going to be entirely impossible about it. She catches something in his eyes, though, head tilting a bit as she studies his features while they wait the handful of minutes it'll take for the tea to fully infuse. "...Somehow, though, I doubt you were much thinking on Frank Castle. Something on your mind?" She asks gently, leaning her hip against the edge of the counter across from him. She doesn't quite look like she did in those days, the satin robe too fine and about a decade after the war in style. But her hair is the same mussed, damp natural curl that comes when she doesn't have time or space for the pins. She's got scratches on her face half healing and her eyes are just tired enough that, combined with the scent of the tea, it's very close to the old days. Studying his face, it's hard not to think of that herself. She mutters far more quietly, heartbeat later, "...I really haven't made this tea for you since... Since we've been back, have I?" She knows the answer, but it seems strange to her that it took so long.
Steve Rogers	By the way his smile slowly appears and by the faint rueful, understanding cant of it, Steve's thinking about just how easily she reads him -- still reads him after the interim of time and distance both. He lets his eyes slide off to one and fidgets in place, a subtle shift of the small of his back against the kitchen counter. Fingers lift off a bicep and fall in a shrug. "Had a moment of memory. Thing about the serum is it keeps things bright 'nd fresh. Sometimes, scents trigger things. The tea," and he nods at the cup steeping. His true-blues return to her face. "Made me think of sharing it with you 'nd Barnes, with the Howlies, back when it was cold enough to warrant it 'nd coffee tins didn't make it into camp. Good memory," comes the reassurance, his smile remaining small if true. "Those little lights in the darkness, a way to touch base with humanity in the middle'f it all." A beat and then he adds, "Seems like Buck's getting more comfortable around you. 's'a good thing." A heavy, short sigh. "I was afraid, after what I'd read in the records..." Of course he's referencing the nearly-successful assassination attempt.
Peggy Carter	The recollection of the memory brings an earnest, heart-deep warm smile to her lips. It's the sort of smile that she rarely gives, he'd only seen a handful of times in their years in the field together. The first time, of course, being when he marched back with Bucky and several dozen other prisoners after going off on that suicide mission. He gets it this morning. The memory might not be as sharp for her, but it's still there. "... That was a good morning." She echoes him softly. She then turns back to the tea, not in a metal cup but a proper porcelin mug this time. She rescues the strainer just quick enough for it not to grow more bitter than the tea's natural state and hands the mug to him with her left hand. She's still favoring that right arm. The sling was probably a wise choice. "I think there's still some moments when he blames himself for it. Hell, there's still some moments I blame myself for him being stuck there, or you being in the ice. But I know it wasn't him. It wasn't his choice. And the part of him that *was* still in there? Probably why I managed to pull through in the first place. We... we've talked it through. It's the past. We... get drinks in the park now, a few times a week. With Lili. He... likes those horribly sweet iced coffee things. I'm happy to bring them. It's... Nice." The expression on her face is a mix of gentle affection and simple warmth. Her feelings on Bucky have changed *greatly* since their collective reunion.
Steve Rogers	Steve notes the favoritism of this arm and takes the tea without further comment...for the moment. He hazards that, just as old times, nagging about the wounded arm will only put her back up. The sling hasn't disappeared yet anyhow or been discarded -- he has faith in its presence. A deep breath of the steam rising from the cup nearly flings him back to the past again, but Peggy's voice anchors him in the present. He sips carefully to avoid burning his tongue //this time// and licks his lips, then mulling them together as he listens, eyes upon her. What an absolutely singular taste, this gunpowder tea. "Probably mean something like either a white chocolate mocha or maybe one of those blended iced coffee drinks. Bit sweet for me too," he says with a quiet laugh. Another sip of his tea and his eyes fall to his reflection in its surface. His mouth tugs to one side before smoothing again. "'m glad he's able to talk to you about it. That you talked through it. Those moments, where he blames himself, 's'hard. He blames himself for a lot of things he didn't do." Steve glances up again. "Thing is, you don't have to blame yourself about the ice. That was my decision, not yours."
Peggy Carter	The tea is harsh and smoke filled. Not literally made out of gunpowder -- they weren't that desperate during the war and that needed to be in weapons -- but it sure as hell smelled like it. A tea made to wake you up, keep you warm, and little else. But after two years of rationing the stuff, it felt like coming home. She watches him silently as he mulls over the tea, her smile quiet but unwavering. "Frappacino, I think? I don't know. I always order the things and apparently am getting the right ones, because he likes them." Their mutual affection for the man is clear, a touch of protectiveness in her voice that certainly wasn't there during the war, when he was Steve's troublemaker friend. She sighs quietly at the thought of how Bucky blames himself. She's not denying it, but it makes her worry. "I know. Some night's he'll still talk about it. Most he won't. I just... I keep the door open. I know it's not his fault. Just like neither of you are mine. I know this. None of us are great at... not taking the blame, though. Still care -- too damn much." She then takes a deeper sip of her tea. "...That's why I'm going to take him more on these hunts. SHIELD doesn't trust him yet, doesn't give him half the assignments he could take. They just have him cooped up here like some... science experiment. He needs out. He needs to be able to fight back in his own way. So, we'll start..."
Steve Rogers	"Frappacino, yep." Steve grins to himself. "Don't mind the caramel ones myself." His smile fades slowly into something more neutral as she continues. Still caring too damn much -- and all three of them indeed. It's the truth in spades. Peggy sips her tea and Steve nods to himself, sighing quietly through this nose. His brows knit to hear her analysis of Bucky's current circumstances. The title of 'science experiment' seems to be a slip of discomfort into his side. With a deliberation of weighing each word, he asks quietly, "You got a way for him to keep out of range of any of his old handlers...?"
Peggy Carter	As he takes his time to consider it all, Peg settles deeper back into the chair and actually draws her legs up to curl beneath her. She's quietly exhausted and going to steal these few moments of morning ease as comfortably as she can. They are close enough that formal body language no longer matters around him, though it's a great show of vulnerability just for her to be that relaxed. She sips her tea as he chews it over, watching those blue eyes. She can practically read half the thoughts behind them. "...If I told you yes, foolproof, you'd know I was lying. This is why SHIELD doesn't send him out. There's no real way to know how many, or who has the words. But I'll be with him. I know what to look for and I'll handle it. Knock him out, if I must. Take out the others. No, it's not a perfect solution. But there isn't going to BE one and..." She exhales a slower breath, wrapping up emotions so she can state her case clear and calmly. Emotions will make it worse. "He hesitated. Around me. Even when he was fully under control...He hesitated. That's why I'm still breathing, Steve."
Steve Rogers	"He hesitated with me too." There's a quiet gravity to the Captain's words as his eyes rest upon the brunette. He knows precisely what she means -- the moment of painful stillness where confusion smudges up the crystal-cold wastes of Winter's attention. "You're gonna knock him out? How?" Steve then asks as he continues holding his cup of tea. It seems an anchor somehow, its contents still steaming and scented of memory, and he seems as well to have forgotten to drink at it. There's a betraying thinning of his lips, subtle as it might be, to prove just how much it hurts him as well to know that no plan survives first impact with the enemy -- that nothing is foolproof even after all these decades.
Peggy Carter	"Fitz made those ICERs... They are pretty damn effective. I make certain have one that... basically is just tuned for him. I have confidence he'd hesitate again, and I won't. No, it's not a perfect plan but... It's better than nothing. And it's better than him rotting away in here going stir crazy, convincing himself he's a ticking time bomb." Not many issues get peggy fired up, she's often been the epitome of keeping calm and carrying on. But this is on that list of issues. Her care for Bucky is achingly clear but, more than that, her willingness to *fight* for him. It's the same sort of fight that had her arguing on behalf of Steve back when he was a scrawny impossibility for Project Rebirth.
Steve Rogers	He can see how Peggy begins to hackle despite her calm exterior. It's the way the corners of her eyes and lip set in a certain way while her dark eyes remain cool and clear. She'll see the Captain actually look off to one side before raising his tea to his lips. It's a long enough silence to follow that surely she's predicted he has something to say about those ICERs. "Peggy. Those ICERs are only useful if you have 'em and they're armed. I've dropped him before without 'em." And Peggy is given a very significant look from the Captain now; unspoken information indicated by the subtle tilt of his head without dropping shared eye contact. Steve Rogers knows something SHIELD might not.
Peggy Carter	Peggy is one inch from actually protesting, her dander definitely up, but then she catches that weight in his eyes. She goes deadly silent for a few heartbeats, head cocking just slightly to the side. She doesn't lose that eye contact, but she gives him the most subtle, understanding of nods. Not now. But soon. "...An ICER is the best we have. So, we will make due. We've done more with less, you know." She states a bit too lightly. Words meant for bugs that might live in the walls, not for him. She then carefully unfolds, finishing her tea and setting it in the sink. "I, however, need to get to R&D and out of here. Once I'm done with this Frank Castle mess, we should get a proper pint... It's been too long." She gives him a simple, neutral smile as the off-site meeting place is offered.
Steve Rogers	"Amazing what you can get done with a bobby pin, hair spray, a bit of chewing gum, 'nd a four foot length of fuse," agrees the Captain. After all, Dernier did it once and blew a HYDRA convoy to kingdom-come. He can read that she's antsy to get moving and make use of what jitters came of their discussion about Barnes. Time does move without warning as well. Steve eyes the nearest clock and then finishes his tea as well. His cup is set beside the other in the sink, his movements as such that he's temporarily close enough to nearly brush elbows with Peggy. "Pint sounds like a good idea. Know a good place over in Brooklyn still standing. They've got some stuff on tap I figure you'd like." He gives her one of his small, true smiles and even as he makes to leave the kitchen and depart, there's a long moment where his steps slow to nearly falter. More solemnly, he adds in a murmur, "Be safe, Peggy." Even though Steve knows her as the toughest broad this side of the Atlantic, the wish is heartfelt. "I'll text you the address. You lemme know when's best." A final nod and then with surprisingly quiet speed, he departs her room to allow her readiness. After all, Frank Castle has no idea what's coming.