[ CLOSED ] he's in the army now, blowin' reveille

[revlon]

Who: Peggy Carter (revlon), Steve Rogers (starspangle), Claire Fraser (nineteenfortyfive)
What: Vintage folks meet their fellow golden oldie roommates.
When: Arrival at Olympia.
Where: House #29.
Warning(s): N/A

[ It's been a long trip. Not as long as some marches she's embarked on during the war, not by half, but it was nearly as treacherous and just as exhausting for simply going in blind. She's a woman who likes to know what she's getting into — she's certainly capable of handling it if she doesn't, but it's a new world and a new life. Not a new country. Now it's a new city.

She's given a patch at the entrance despite her firm refusal.

Hello! My name is
PEGGY CARTER!

I am in House #29!
Are you my housemate?

It's absurd. It lists her hobbies as guns, codebreaking, and crosswords in the most cheerful manner possible and it's not precisely discreet, either. But there's nothing for it. She's whisked off into a tour group before she can find anyone else she knows and deposited at her new home without preamble. It's not what she expected, not after Thesa. But beggars can't be choosers.

She opens the door with some measure of wariness. She doesn't know if her roommates are here before her — she doesn't even know who they might be — but she investigates the place all the same. Is anyone home? ]

Comments

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Just when Claire thinks she can't feel more tired, it's the tiny living space that's the final nail in the coffin of fatigue. She's slept in hovels and tents and on cots in the mud without knowing when she'd get an actual bed, but the living space provided here just drags something in her chest further down into her gut. Despair, maybe, is that feeling. All she wants to do is get rid of the damn patch that helpfully informs anyone that happens to look that her hobbies include medicine, time travel, and lying, and go plant herself next to the pods that contain her loved ones.

But that's not helpful, is it?

So, when she hears footsteps, she spins around from where she'd been inspecting the state of the stove and checking if it actually works. Regardless of whether it's Steve or Peggy, it's a familiar face. Funny, that.]

Oh.

[This might not be as terrible as she thought.]

Hello.

[revlon]

[ It is rather depressing, all this. Home as they know it is gone forever and they must make do with the hand they've been dealt here — it's certainly not the kindest sort of welcome, despite the seemingly best efforts put forth by the people in charge. Like Claire, Peggy has slept in far worse places, but she's also slept in far better. It's a little reminiscent of the apartment she shared with Colleen O'Brien when she first moved to New York: one bed between them and a hope that their erratic schedules would mean they'd never have to squeeze into it together.

It had only been a few weeks of that life before Colleen had been killed. But hopefully no one will try to kill her here and she won't have to move as a result of it. Although given the state of this place, she'll want to look for somewhere new soon enough.

Still, when she stumbles across Claire, she breaks into a startled sort of smile. ]

Well, [ she says, arms crossing. ] This just got decidedly less miserable.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Someone from her world (or something close enough to it) and her era. It's a relief, and Claire smiles before crossing the short distance over to Peggy. If it's just the two of them, then this might not be that bad.]

Keep this up and I'm going to begin to think you're following me.

[They keep running into one another. Birds of a feather.]

Care for the tour?

[She motions to the space behind her.]

There it is.

[revlon]

[ She huffs out a laugh, gaze following the sweep of her arm to the cramped space beyond. ]

Delightful. [ It's dry but not overly so. She marks two beds, which is perfect if it remains just the two of them. If not, then it might get slightly complicated. Still, she suspects two women who have spent considerable time on warfronts can manage. ] And for the record, I'm not following you.

[ If she were, she wouldn't be so obvious. ]

Maybe our being contemporaries led to some sort of decision for selecting roommates. I can't say I mind. [ Peggy crosses around her to peer at the kitchen, lips pursed. ] This stove, on the other hand...

[ The odds of burning this place down seem higher than she'd like. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[She imagines an agent would be better at any following, but she keeps that to herself. No need to state the obvious.]

It works, at least. Not that there's anything to cook... or that I'd want to eat anything found in here.

[Claire crosses her arms over her chest, sighing.]

It's better than nothing I suppose.

[revlon]

It certainly is. We'll make a proper home of it somehow.

[ Peggy's never really been one for making things cosy. She never personalised her desk at the SSR offices and she's lived in rented apartments and Howard's lavish suites for the past few years; she's never had to decorate. Never really had a taste for it. But this is all rather grim and it could do with a touch of warmth.

She opens the refrigerator, notes that it's empty. Of course it is. ]

Starting with a trip down to the shops. Have you had a chance to look around at all? I'm afraid I was whisked away before I could do much else. To say nothing of this ridiculous patch.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Claire's never been one for decorating, either. She's never been in a place long enough for it to matter, and their apartment in Paris was never really theirs to do with as they pleased. Lallybroch was, of course, but it'd been Jenny's--and then their parents'--for so long that Claire didn't feel right moving things around. No need to fuss over something that didn't need fixing.

This place needs a lot of fixing, however. She's not sure if she wants to make it a home, but they could do with some food.]

Not yet. Chatted with a few people looking for their roommates [a glance down at the patch, firsts hers and then Peggy's] and then ended up here. People around here have to get their food from somewhere.

Maybe we'll find a crossword book.

[revlon]

[ She looks baffled for all of a second at the mention of crosswords before glancing down at the patch on her chest. It's changed, she hadn't noticed that. She makes some noise at the back of her throat, equal parts irritated and exasperated. She didn't realise it changed. Stands to reason it would, since Claire's reads the same. Lying, though; that piques her curiosity more than the time travel (only because she'd been told about that before). Peas a pod, them. ]

I don't know if I'd be able to answer a thing on one even if we did.

[ It would be full of references she wouldn't understand. But, now that she thinks of it, it would lend some great insight into this new city of theirs. It's not a bad idea. She means to explore more, possibly find a library. ]

And it's rather low on my list of priorities. I'd say food is the order of the day, perhaps some clothes. [ A pause. The glances towards one of the bedrooms, with no divider from the main room, and she wrinkles her nose a little. ] Fresh sheets, too.

[nineteenfortyfive]

And I brushed them off, too. [A nod towards one of the beds. Is she joking? Who knows. Either way, it makes little difference. It's all dust and grime, but nothing a few adjustments couldn't freshen up.

She almost wants to tell her it's a joke, not a lie, but there's no need to explain herself. Bloody nametag. It could at least say her hobby is lying badly.]

Shall we, then? Best get a lay of the land.

[And better to do it in a pair.]

[revlon]

[ She smiles at that. ]

Well, it just so happens my other hobbies include reconnaissance.

[ It isn't a joke but she says it lightly enough that it could pass as one. Peggy slings her rucksack off her shoulder (her meagre belongings from the crash and what few clothes — robes — she'd kept) and sets it down on one of the beds, pulling her box handbag out from inside it. It seems a bit superfluous, but it's clearly something she'd brought from home, and what's more important is the contents: her gun, her lipstick. ]

I heard something about a market district. We might be able to put together a decent dinner if we find it.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Ah. Agent jokes. Humor that's actually not very far from the truth, if it's not the thing itself. Claire smiles, watching Peggy with almost wonder. A handbag. Something she'd see in a department store window. It seems like an alien thing now.]

I'm not much of a chef, I'm afraid. A bit rusty.

[She can cook, but for so long it's been nothing but stews and game over campfires, if not stale bread and cheese when they could find it.]

[revlon]

[ At that, she pauses. Pulls a bit of a face. ]

That's rather unfortunate, [ she says after a beat, ] seeing as I was about to warn you of the same thing.

[ Campfire stews abound. There's a reason she ate at the automat more often than not, picked up food to bring to her desk, or had dear Mr Jarvis or one of Howard's chefs whip something up for her. She'd never asked for that sort of life, either, it was all a matter of circumstance. But still, beyond cobbling together a passable sandwich... ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Well. Claire knows she can boil a potato and toss some ingredients together to make something edible, but the jury's out on how enjoyable it might be.]

Perhaps we'll find a cafe along the way.

[Or something similar.]

later that night;

[america]

[ Steve's spent enough time in the 21st century to warm up to the fact that for the next little while he'll be rooming with two women in incredibly close quarters with few rations - and fewer opportunities for privacy. Because their rooming quarters are small. There are two beds, a small stack of bedding, a set of chairs, a kitchen and bathroom area.

The Avengers HQ, for all that it was made up of endless spaces, seemed small sometimes. At almost all times of a mission, Avengers and Avengers-in-training would spend so much time together, it seemed pointless to have their own rooms. He'd seen most of them at their best and worst, and it went the other way.

He suspects it's going to be a bit different here and now, but he's been trained out of the shyness that had once plagued him.

At least that's what he thinks.

He also never shared close quarters with Peggy Carter before.

It's getting late and the exhaustion of the past few days events are starting to wear on him, but that little detail doesn't escape him. No, it's kind of the only thing he can think about right now.

Jesus Christ.

It kind of goes without saying that Steve won't be making either of the women sleep anywhere else but the two offered beds but suddenly it's almost hard to get the words out. It's just him and Peggy right now, but Claire will be back soon, he's sure. ]

I'll - uh. Take the floor.

[revlon]

[ Bedrolls around a campfire or a shared foxhole aren't exactly a bed, no. So in that sense, they certainly haven't had to be so — intimate. War is different. It breeds necessity. This isn't nearly as dire, although it feels that way when presented with this predicament. She hadn't expected Steve Rogers to walk through the door. She's pleased, of course she is, but what they've had these past few days is still so tenuous in unexpected ways.

She swallows hard, shaking her head. ]

Don't be ridiculous, it's filthy. [ They still need to tidy this place up. ] We'll find something.

[america]

It's okay; I've slept on worse.

[ Lived on worse.

Steve gestures to their small living quarters, making a point of their many alternatives to sleeping on the floor like this isn't a dirty, tiny shack of a living space but a spacious castle instead.

But really, honestly, he doesn't mind.

What makes him nervous is the propriety. Back at the Avengers headquarters he didn't have to think so much about whether something like removing his uniform might be considered ... too much. But suddenly here, knowing that Peggy hasn't experienced the 21st century like he has, makes him revert a little to the way things used to be. The things he'd been taught as a boy. The cultural climate in the 1940s.

Which is stupid because Peggy's not like that anyway. ]

[revlon]

[ She'd bristle at the implication of her being a prude if she knew what he was thinking, but she can guess enough to at least be a little huffy about it. It's not the chivalry; in fact, it's endearing in its own way, but given their history (both long and short, past and present) she knows he's trying to be polite for all the wrong reasons too. Or the right ones. Bloody hell, she doesn't know. But she grew up with a brother and served in the company of men for years of war. She's not about to balk at something like this. ]

Steve. [ The name is firm, she's just short of crossing her arms. ] I know the serum means you don't need as much sleep as the rest of us, but even I can tell you're dead on your feet from the past few days. I'll... I don't know, [ she says, waving a hand, casting about for a better idea. ] I'll ask Claire if she minds sharing until we find a better solution.

[america]

[ Steve's laughter is soft, under his breath really, but he won't argue any further. He doesn't really have the energy or the willingness to. ]

We'll clean this place up tomorrow. [ He gives their common area another quick study. ] Make it habitable for three people to get their rest.

[ For now, he'll listen to Peggy because she's right. Her confirmation of his exhaustion only makes it feel even more real. ]

You're sure.

[ He just wants to give her one last chance to back out, if she wants to. ]

[revlon]

[ She raises an eyebrow sharply. Her own weariness is making her temper a little shorter than usual; and although she isn't outright angry with him, her tone is a touch more firm than it ought to be for such a mild conversation. ]

Do I seem like the sort of woman who doesn't know her own mind, captain?

[america]

No, ma'am.

[ He'd never ever accuse her of that. Not unless he had a death wish. ]

[revlon]

Then it's settled.

[ She studies him for a moment then exhales loudly, gesturing. ]

Have a seat. I'll make us some tea.

[ Because she and Claire ran down to the shops earlier today and when you put two Englishwoman in an apartment, you're bound to have some tea. ]

[america]

[ Steve does as he's told, finding a chair to settle himself into while Peggy goes about doing what the English do.

Even if he's not a big fan of tea, the last thing he's going to do is refuse a cup. It could help with the nerves anyway, right?

Conversationally: ]

Do you think it's random, the way they put us together in this house?

[revlon]

[ Her back is to him when he asks that question, her hand stilling for just a heartbeat on the kettle's handle. The thought had crossed her mind — this is far too specific to be coincidental. And although Darma's voice whispers in their dreams, somehow Peggy doubts there's any influence to be had down here, otherwise she'd assume it was a kindness bestowed on the pair of them. But she can't be certain. ]

What do you think? [ It's cheating, to answer a question with another question. She fills the kettle and sets it on top of the stove, then starts to arrange the cups and tea tin. She takes a breath and turns back to face him, leaning back against the countertop. ] Have you heard of others being placed together?

[america]

I haven't exactly had a chance to check up on everyone's living situations yet. [ he admits with a shrug. Mostly he'd been shuttled towards his own living quarters by the slightly-more-than-necessary pushy welcoming committee here. ] But I can't imagine we were put together purely by chance.

They could have had some idea of our histories together, figured that maybe it'd be an easier transition if we got through it with people we were familiar with.

[ He's glad for it, anyway. It's a little awkward, sure, but Peggy's familiar to him in ways most of the others here aren't. It makes this whole thing a little less terrifying. ]

[revlon]

If that were the case, then Bucky would be here, too.

[ She does know Barnes is alive, now. And more than a little worse for wear. She doesn't know the particularities of it all, not when they've barely had any time to themselves, let alone time for reunions. But maybe that's another theory as to why she and Steve have been put up together. Making up for lost time? Would the people in charge be so sentimental?

Would she?

God, she never thought she'd have this. Not one second, not five minutes, not the rest of however long they're here. During the war, they could only ever think as far as the next day — the future was a dangerous fantasy to entertain when the fighting got so bleak. And now that it's here, in a way neither of them anticipated, it's a lot to take in. ]

But it's a good theory. [ She pauses, studies him quietly from across the way. ] The Natha have been shockingly kind since we've woken up. Maybe we shouldn't be too surprised that their generosity's extended this far. I've wondered how much they could possibly know about us, our lives, but this...

[ Peggy hesitates a little. It's so intimate, what they were on the edge of in 1945. No one really knew, outside of their circle of Commandos and Colonel Phillips. She doesn't know what to make of it or if she's reading too much into it and saying any of that out loud seems — silly. ]