i'm all bloody knuckles

[tailorable]

Who: Eggsy Unwin (tailorable), Peggy Carter (revlon), and Roxy Morton (comportable)
What: Quest aftermath
When: Before May 31st
Where: The Spy Cottage aka Reggsy's flat
Warning(s): Injuries, medical content (stitching, bullet removal, etc.)

[ Following an afternoon of unlucky breaks, Eggsy and Peggy receive assistance from the Gilded Cage's magic door: First, a quick exit to deliver their package, and then a convenient entrance to the quiet neighborhood where Eggsy and Roxy's home (once Eggsy and Harry's flat) is located. Peggy will know it by sight, no doubt having been over for tea (among other things) prior to today. As they plod up to the door, Eggsy untangles himself from Peggy. It's a multi-lock door — a custom-alteration due to the nature of his work on Earth and El Nysa — and takes a long moment to unlock. At least this job didn't injure his hands, even if his constellation of cuts and deeper lacerations slow him down.

He holds the door for Peggy and locks it behind him. ]

Sit wherever you want. [ Wooden stools by the kitchen counter, chairs at a tiny table for two, the small sofa, Harry's armchair. Dryly — ] I'm making a goddamn mess, anyway.

[ Once inside, he calls out, "Rox, I'm home!", though the only reply is the light patter of JB running out of Eggsy's room and into the shared kitchen-sitting area. His barks grow louder at the sight of Eggsy, the smell of blood, dried all over his tattered suit and fresh droplets seeping through his tie, wrapped around his arm. The tie had been a Christmas gift from Harry. Like all gifts from Harry (along with the man himself), it was lost in the crossfire again. ]

Easy now. [ A soft reassurance, directed at JB. ] It's alright. I'm alright.

[ Rather than dip down to scratch JB's head and dirty the dog (or, y'know, his wounds), Eggsy trudges past him to rest a hand on the short stretch of countertop separating the kitchen and sitting areas. As he removes his glasses (blessedly unbroken), he catches his breath for a long moment. ]

I'll get a medical kit.

Comments

[comportable]

So Eggsy has mentioned to me. ( roxy answers peggy, no memory of her whatsoever and no recognition in her gaze. there's a hint at the smile at the explanation why peggy won't shake her hand, though, and an incline of her head to accept the point. ) That's for the better, then.

( and when eggsy completes the introductions, the incline turns into a polite nod, her hand dropping to her side easily. ) A pleasure.

( she's not — angry at eggsy for not calling, but there's something tight in her chest, a bubble of some emotion she keeps contained, has long learned to keep tightly contained because she must. it's what allows her to keep her tone even and her (by necessity superficial) assessment of their injuries clinical and cool. her hands utterly steady.

they have drinks; the first aid kit lies near eggsy. roxy takes a step toward it now, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse. ) If you don't mind? ( there's a question in those words going beyond the obvious. do they need a third pair of hands? do they want one? and which one of the two needs patching up, first?

if it were only eggsy, roxy'd sit him down and take care of that wound - bullet wound? - on his arm, clean the cuts on his face one by one lest they get infected. but it's not just eggsy, and that shifts the dynamic in a way roxy can't quite predict yet. for all that she's met peggy again, or peggy's met her, she doesn't know her at all. )

[revlon]

[ Peggy narrows her eyes briefly at Eggsy when he drops his gaze to his suit; there's little heat in it, more teasing than irritated (although there is a touch of the latter, of course there is — don't you wriggle your way out of this one, Gary Unwin, it seems to say). And then she takes a breath and averts her attention to Roxy. ]

By all means, [ she replies, gesturing towards Eggsy with the pair of scissors she's wielding in one hand. Pointedly: ] It seems Mr Unwin might require some assistance with his cufflinks.

[ Far be it from her to assume the other woman means assisting her, a perfect stranger in her home. And there's the fact of the matter that Peggy doesn't know Roxy well, either; they had met in the past, yes, but only briefly and casually and both times over a shared drink. All she knows is she's keeping a cool and level head under the circumstances and that Eggsy trusts her, which is good enough for now. But this is a situation she hadn't anticipated them getting tangled up in, let alone mere hours after the debacle at the Institute.

It's been a bloody long day and it's only getting longer.

Peggy goes back to snipping away the fabric around her injury to allow enough room to disinfect and bandage it; now that she can see it properly, she can tell the slug passed clean through her outer thigh — deeper than a graze, not quite being shot dead-on. Luckier and luckier. She reaches towards the table, presumably for the kit, but bypasses it for the rest of her whiskey. Priorities. ]

[tailorable]

[ He already has one cufflink off the suit and in his hand — a silver little thing, hollowed out for dead drops, emblazoned with the Kingsman logo — yet another gift from Harry and blessedly unbroken.

The not-quite-dig makes him snort. ]

Hilarious when you're cutting up your trousers, Carter. [ but it's delivered without any bite, absentmindedly as he slips the second cufflink into his hand and deposits it on the coffee table. Then, he shifts to remove the tie (unsuccessfully) staunching the bloodflow through his left arm. As it stands, his white button-up sports an intimidating, crimson stain, peaking out from behind slivers of bulletproof fabric.

If Peggy isn't interested in help, he'll take it gladly (if only from Roxy). ] Might need another hand to stitch up my arm. [ Seeing as he'll be one short. He smooths his thumb over his jaw, wiping a spot of red off his face. Lightly, ] Some robots had a go at me with fucking swords.

[comportable]

( it's an interesting dynamic to observe. it's a reminder, too, of just how much she's missed. not only meeting peggy before, but this entire development. this friendship and partnership unfolding, growing —more than the knowledge that she's been awake before, more than eggsy telling her how many months he's been awake, this hits it home. makes it real.

no point in dwelling on it, though. )

Where did the robots come from? ( swords seem par for the course on this planet, but robots? but even as she asks it, roxy is setting out some supplies: clean gauze, disinfectant, everything else one might need for impromptu minor surgery in the sitting room. )

[revlon]

The robotics lab at the Institute, I imagine, [ Peggy chimes in from her side of the sofa. She knocks back the rest of her whiskey and exhales with a soft hiss — it's unclear whether it's because of the smooth burn of the liquor or the chunk of flesh taken out of her thigh. ] Although clearly neither of us anticipated that level of security.

[ Their employer, Cree, certainly did. Otherwise he wouldn't have suggested they go armed, never mind that between Peggy and Eggsy, there's bound to be some sort of discreet weapon on hand. The Institute has never been trustworthy in Peggy's eyes, not since it came to her attention that the sickness which plagued the city last year originated from its labs. And then she and Eggsy did further digging, discovered more evidence of that, and other things more sinister — culminating in the rescue they executed at the same place just a few months ago, well... The Institute is not what anyone seems to think it is.

But that's a long and exhausting story with too many pieces to lay out right now. Hell, the reason they were there at all today doesn't seem like the sort of thing one just blurts out. So Peggy replaces her glass with a pair of gloves and gets to work on cleaning her wound, careful not to make too much of a mess. She did say she'd mind the upholstery. ]

There hadn't been any need to. Unless — [ To Eggsy: ] Your patrol route takes you around that way. Did you ever see robots roaming the halls before this afternoon? [ It's a redundant question. She knows Eggsy would have been thorough, they both were, despite how easy this assignment sounded on paper. But she still asks. ] The one that came after me was disguised to look like a person.

[tailorable]

[ Before he starts struggling out of his suit coat, he tips his head to where his glasses sit on the table and then back to Roxy. ]

You can review the footage from my glasses. [ Later, when he isn't bleeding out, of course. It's a simple statement that communicates the enormity of his trust in each of them. He trusts Roxy with his first-person account of the mission, and he trusts with Peggy with the reveal that his glasses record and store encounters. Perhaps he should have mentioned it before now, particularly when he made use of the feature on his first mission for Cree, but trust comes piece-by-piece in their line of work. ]

[ Tear it off like a plaster, he tells himself. A giant, painful fucking plaster. Eggsy peels off his coat with difficulty, his left arm only pulling free with a hissed fuck. The remains of his jacket tumble to the ground in a heap, which he quickly stands to retrieve. He can hear Harry's voice in his head: A gentleman doesn't leave his suit on the floor. 'Course Eggsy doesn't do it much better, chucking it on the coffee table in a crumpled ball. Ain't like it's salvageable anyway.

He begins unbuttoning his white shirt, though his focus shifts to Peggy. This is the first he's hearing of a disguised bot. Jesus Christ. ]

Not near the classrooms. [ His brow furrows. ] The other models have been out and about before, but normally only one at a time, and I ain't ever seen them act like they did today. [ He takes a quick breath before he wrenches his (formerly) white shirt off, looses a few expletives, and promptly shoves the bunched material back on the gash. Definitely in need of stitches. ] Bloody terminators.

[comportable]

Charming. ( roxy comments dryly, all the more inclined now to find employment at the institute. it sounds like proper intel could have saved eggsy and peggy both a lot of trouble. besides: if the institute has a robotics lab, it's the sort of place that deserves attention even more than she'd previously thought.

the level of trust eggsy shows peggy is telling and roxy files that away for future consideration. he'd already mentioned peggy to her, of course, but —it's a different thing seeing it in action. just as knowing she'd been awake before, how many months she's missed out on while in stasis is one thing, seeing and feeling it another.

none of that's important right now. )

We ought to restock this kit. ( she remarks, idly, pulling on a pair of gloves and nodding at eggsy's arm. ) Let me.

What does the Institute stand to gain by having robots that look like persons?

[revlon]

[ Peggy and Eggsy have seen the bowels of the Institute more intimately than most, been subject to a security system that tried to kill them when a poisonous haze wasn't enough. But several months clearly wasn't enough to know all its secrets; chemical warfare was something they were actively pursuing after the epidemic, but weapons manufacturing at that level?

How many robots do they actually have? It's a grim thought and she holds on to it as she watches Eggsy ease out of his shirt, surveying that gash with clear concern. Her own pain has faded to a dull, burning roar which may or may not be good. ]

I can think of half a dozen possibilities, [ she says lowly. ] None of them good. Its face — split open — for a shotgun barrel. Thus... [ She gestures to the wound she's mopping up. ] I didn't have time to figure out how to properly disable the thing, just did my best to disrupt the mechanics inside and get out.

[ Excuse her while she pours antiseptic onto a thick pad of gauze, takes a bracing breath, and presses it to the side of her leg. Dull, burning roar would have been preferable to the white-hot bite of pain that follows; Peggy hisses in a sharp breath and drops her head back against the back of the sofa, eyes squeezed shut. ]

Fff— [ It hurts exquisitely, she has to exhale slowly to keep from saying anything too unladylike in the presence of company so she grits her teeth instead. Deep breaths, Carter. A moment to focus, she clears her throat, and then she continues her line of thought, albeit in a tighter tone of voice. ] Always knew the Institute was hiding something. But to have armed escorts for members of the faculty and staff... Couldn't be more obvious now.