Owner	Pose
Peggy Carter	Late night. Late enough that most people SHOULD be sleeping, Peggy included, but some nights it's simply impossible to shut off. Especially since she became Chief, the weight of the world gently on her shoulders again. It's a familiar place, but an exhausting one, especially with so much personal skin in the game these days. So, instead of keeping Daniel up with her tossing and turning, she's snuck out to brew a bit of chamomile tea and start going through the day's reports. She's in one of her old robes again, this one a deep silver with little black birds all across it. She's found the energy to pin curl up her hair even, so she looks like someone who has stepped out of the 50s, but that's common for her. Hip resting against the counter area, she's waiting mostly patiently for the water to boil, her eyes half shut in the quiet exhaustion she's still feeling that does not yet let her sleep.
Melinda May	*Should* is the operative word. May *should* be asleep, too. And, in a perfect world, she would be. But she's restless. Beyond the concerns of restructuring STRIKE, there are also more personal concerns. And the fact she's seriously considering contacting her ex-husband proves just how deeply they bother her. Even in the middle of the night, however, May will never be entirely comfortable wandering a base in a night robe. So, for her, it's yoga pants and a tank top, her hair pulled back in a loose pony tail, as if she's just come from the gym. It's possible, she has. She enters the lounge and glances around, finding Peggy fairly quickly. She can *feel* her, after all, even outside the door. "Got a second mug?" she asks as she enters.
Peggy Carter	While not able to read people near in the way that May can, Peggy knows the sound of steps and even the way a door opens, so she's realized who it is before she even turns around. A smile cuts across her lips, eyes flickering over her shoulder to confirm her suspicions. "Melinda. Of course, always for you... though I was going for chamomile tonight in some attempt to maybe sleep. Eventually." Peggy's voice is a little raspy, underlying exhaustion there and too late at night for her to well hide it. She pulls out another mug and tea strainer, shaking the box of green tea in Melinda's direction to ask if she'd prefer it. Peggy's emotional state is mostly gentle and familiar, but with anxious, unrested tensions just below the surface. There's a lot of things keeping her up tonight. "...How are you feeling?" She asks, looking the woman up and down for lingering injuries.
Melinda May	"Chamomile's fine," May says. Maybe it will help her wind down, too. Green tea will only keep her up. She can hear the exhaustion in her friend's voice and feel the subtle tension she's holding as she crosses toward the counter. A light halfshrug lifts a shoulder. "Restless," she admits. "A lot like you, really." Because, yes. She knows exactly what Peggy's feeling. "Not so much fun being Chief again?"
Peggy Carter	"Being Chief of an organization I love who are now all criminals because people decided to remain loyal to our ideals. I... admire them all. I love this team and love SHIELD. I'm glad we finally got our back yard clean. But it's different running a place when all your people can call themselves proud protectors of the world, verses running a place when people's loyalty to you could get them arrested or killed for looking the wrong way. I simply... I worry." Peggy confesses quietly. It's not the total truth, there is something else going on there and has been since she and Daniel came back from visiting up north, but all she says is honest. It's just not all that keeps her awake. She scoops out another serving of chamomile into a strainer and prepares that cup just as the kettle goes off. Steaming water is poured across both tea mugs before she carries them over to the sitting area, putting one down in front of a chair for May. "What's on your mind?"
Melinda May	May nods to Peggy's confession, a wry smile on her face. "You do know it's not just a loyalty to you, right?" she asks quietly. "It's a loyalty to the ideals you found SHIELD on... and to each other. It's personal, for pretty much everyone. It's a family thing." She taps the side of her head, though she might as well tap her heart. "Trust me. I know." It certainly reflects her own thoughts on the matter, even without sensing it from others. Her loyalty to Peggy is based on their friendship and missions together, not on the fact Peggy founded SHIELD. As a probie, Peggy Carter was so far beyond May that she was a Legend. A Myth. Not human, really. Now, however, Peggy is a friend because of who she is now, not what she's done in ages past. And, truthfully, most of the other agents, even those who are friends, have as little or less connection to Director Carter, Founder of SHIELD, than May does. Their loyalty to Peggy is the same loyalty the have to each other. No, as far as May is concerned, it's not really about any one person. It's about the whole. She also knows her friend well enough to guess that the spoken reason and the actual reason she's so restless are only tangentially related. But she's no mind-reader to be able to guess the truth. So, instead, she offers up her own concerns for the night. "I'm worried about Jemma," she admits. "Something's wrong."
Peggy Carter	The commentary about SHIELD agents' loyalties gets a quiet, almost wistful smile from her. Peggy doesn't disagree. In fact, she dips her head in quiet assent, "I know, I know..." She echoes a few heartbeats later. "We're all here for what SHIELD is, truly... and it's a worthwhile fight. I just want to do my best to take care of them all and that is harder nowadays." Absolutely honest words. Peggy would mama bear this entire organization if she could. But the very serious, honest other response draws her eyes and a deeper frown. "Yes. I thought... she seemed... Off. I figured perhaps I simply didn't know her that well, but you noticed it too?" Peggy asks, her concerned frown just deepening now that there is independent confirmation that the woman is acting odd.
Melinda May	May shakes her head. "I've known Jemma a long time." A beat. "I helped train Jemma. Even before..." she gestures to her head, hand circling imprecisely, "this, I could read her like a book. She's nervous, excitable, enthusiastic, curious, inventive..." She could go on. "And she can be very serious and focussed when she needs to be." She considers her words, now. "She doesn't swallow her emotions well." A beat. "Well. Okay. I've never seen her display anything truly approaching upset or anger, but still. *Most* of her emotions, she doesn't swallow away." The empath meets Peggy's eyes seriously. "She's swallowing her emotions down so quickly, I barely have a chance to read them. It wasn't like that when I first... got this... these powers. I could feel her. But now? She's not a synthetic like Stack. But she's not reacting normally, either. Not healthily." She grimaces. "I'm seriously considering calling Andrew."
Peggy Carter	Peg listens silently, her steaming, still steeping tea resting cupped between her fingertips, helping fill them with a warmth she really isn't much feeling these days, but she's not drinking yet. Partially to let it brew a bit more but also partially because May's words, and the dead serious look in her gaze, was more concerning than Peggy thought the situation was initially. For May to say and feel that? The issue is dead serious. Peggy exhales slowly, sinking back a bit more in the seat as May finishes speaking. She rolls her eyes to ceiling in consideration, "Oh hell, I... didn't realize it was *that* bad. But then, I don't know her near as well as I might like. I enjoy her and respect her immensely, but we simply haven't had... Time. And even I could tell something was off. Do you think it's simply... reaction to all the awful that is going on? To being a wanted criminal? She's... been in danger before..."
Melinda May	May leans against the counter, arms folding lightly over her chest. "It could be," she concedes. She glances over again. "Truthfully? I *hope* that's what it is." Which means she can envision scenarios that are far worse, if that's what she's seeing as a best case scenario. "This situation is stressful for all of us. But she and Fitz. They weren't trained to be field agents. They were trained to be labrats. Everything they know about field ops, they learned on the job." The real problem, as far as May is concerned, is that there are too many weird things going on in their lives right now. Magic. Ghosts. Time loops. She can't be sure there isn't something else affecting Jemma. And she doesn't usually trust to hope.
Peggy Carter	"The fact they weren't trained for the field actually leans more in the direction of this being a perfectly... well, I can't say healthy, but normal response from someone who isn't used to such traumatic situations. Especially after I got her on Interpol's list." Peggy winces a bit in rememberance of that op gone poorly, still a hint guilty about it all, but she's mostly gotten over it. She knows the risks of the job. She takes a deep, testing sip of her tea, jaw settled into a quiet line a moment later, the tea still a little too hot to drink. "But you think it's... more than that, don't you? What else could have gotten to her? Has she even been off base other than missions we've all been on?"
Melinda May	"I don't know," May admits with a helpless shrug. It's an expression she'd use with almost no one else. "Any of it. I don't know. I do know that we've had some pretty strange missions. I mean, hell. That plane I brought down in Miami had 300 corpses on it... and Jane Foster's ghost." Foster is one of Jemma's good friends. Her case is something the scientist has been working tirelessly on. "Jemma wasn't on that mission, but then there was Death Valley, too. And... I don't know." She shakes her head. "Whatever the reason, the fact remains that she's not coping nearly as well as it looks like she is and I'm concerned. I think we need to address it." She reaches out for her mug, pulling he strainer as it reaches a decent steep. "Oh. And, completely unrelated, I'm going to submit some paperwork for Sharon. I want her promoted to L7 and assigned as my second for STRIKE. I've spoken to her about the job. She's on board. I just need the formalities observed."
Peggy Carter	Peggy's brows furrow a bit deeper, considering the Jemma situation quietly. "Why don't we start with Andrew. I can call him if... If you'd rather not." Peggy has read the file. She knows full well why that might be awkward, even if she and May have never really discussed it before. "I share your concerns. I'd rather it just be a... trauma response, and nothing more difficult. He'd be the best to figure that out, then we go from there." Though she doesn't look thrilled at how Jemma might react. No one likes getting the shrink called on them. The news about Sharon gets a slightly wider gaze from her. No deep shock, the feelings that rip through her for a few moments are a few bits of concern and then some fierce pride and then relief. She knows Sharon will be in good hands with May. "Good. Damn good. We'll file the paperwork in the morning." She smiles a bit warmer, "It will be good to... have her closer for a while."
Melinda May	May has told Peggy about Bahrain. Details she's not told anyone else -- like how she and Andrew were trying for children at the time. And her divorce papers cited 'irreconcilable differences'. But her file, though it speaks of the trauma she experienced, it still light on offical details. Indeed, that night at Quons was far more telling than May's formal jacket will ever be. Still, the empath nods. "Yeah. I'd sooner you call him. I don't have an issue with him working here. We're both professionals. There won't be any problems. But..." She gives a wry smile. "I'd just rather leave the past lie." Of course, Peggy's relief is palpable to May. She smiles wryly, the faint grimace when talking about Andrew warming to something a little less intense. She nods. "That, and she's damned good at what she does. One of us was going to scoop her up -- Bobbi or me. I just got there first." She might sound a wee bit smug at that. Just a bit.
Peggy Carter	The comment about someone scooping Sharon up first gets a slightly wider smile from Peggy. The pride is fierce and earnest, even if she's still getting to know the young woman. She cares, that much is clear. "She is. And see, you'll have a Carter on your team after all. Besides, Sharon's joints are probably in better shape than mine." Peggy is only half teasing there. She's been feeling her age lately more often than she'd care to admit, even if she's not entirely certain why. "And yes, I'll call Andrew and... handle it. I should warn Jemma, though I'm certain she won't be pleased about the matter. It's not like I can exactly trick her into seeing a shrink. No one likes being sent to the head doctor's office but... I'd rather remain honest and open with her."
Melinda May	May nods. "I don't see a problem with that. I'll even be there for that conversation, if you want." But she doesn't have to be. She reported her concerns. Really, that's where her responsibility ends, since she's not in Jemma's direct chain of command. Doesn't mean she isn't invested. Her head cants slightly, feeling a vague connection between Peggy's pride in Sharon and her very first statement of the evening. She circles back around to what may or may not be truly bothering her friend, debating how much to push. "You should probably go try to sleep," she suggests. "But, later, we should grab a beer somewhere and you can tell me what's *really* bothering you."
Peggy Carter	A slight yawn is stifled, especially as May mentions going to sleep, Peggy's body betraying her in agreement to the matter. She sighs, scooping up her half cup of tea. "I... suppose so. I still have a rather handsome man waiting in that bed for me. I should enjoy it while... well... While he's here." The implication being Peggy knows they night have to lose him sooner rather than later, even if she's trying not to think about it. "I'll handle the situation with Jemma, I promise. I appreciate you letting me know just how bad it's gotten, though. I'd have waited longer if you didn't let me know." Then she's standing up fully, her body popping in more than one place as she stretches and twists. A deep smirk crosses her mouth as May mentions what is really bothering her and she slightly shakes her head, "It really is... mainly that. But... Yes. A beer would be nice. I'll keep you updated on Jemma and come to my office tomorrow to finish Sharon's paperwork, alright?"
Melinda May	And with that statement, May can guess what's really bothering her friend. It's no surprise. And, silently, it may even be a faint relief. Terrible, perhaps. But true. It helps to know that Peggy knows the risk and isn't in denial about it. "If you'd prefer the sparring mats instead," she says, a faint smirk on her lips. "We could do that, instead." She really does prefer aggression therapy to talk therapy. But beers may still be a factor. In the end, she nods. "Yeah. I'll drop by after I'm done orienting the new arrivals to the Quinjets." She rises her mug to her friend. "Sleep well. Go enjoy your man." She smirks a little more openly, clearly and absolutely teasing: "One of us should be so lucky."
Peggy Carter	"I will. Good night, Melinda." Peggy raises her glass in turn, a quiet toast to the woman, before she steps off down the hallway and disappears towards bed.