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

[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.