[There are as of yet unknown factors that would weigh more heavily on Peggy's side than Rip's; the fact, for instance, that the young scientist in question doesn't care for Rip at all. It's only chance (or destiny, as some might argue) that has aligned the three of them thus, put Peggy in each of their orbits; without that connection, Rip would likely stand no chance of inspiring Fitz to return to work on his own.
And Peggy won't either, if she doesn't have faith in the possibilities.
She takes something of a protective stance, which Rip at least realizes on some level is fair, if not ideal. He doesn't know Fitz well enough at all to say if he will need a push, or if he'll simply retreat into his self-doubt and fear. But in the end, he supposes they all might get a glimpse of the Peggy Carter who eventually founds an organization, and who inspires those who come years after to look at her with respect and awe.
Rip cannot say that it is a sight he doesn't also want to see.]
That is all I can ask. [And good still might come of it, if Fitz refuses. He might at least share his research for those who can build upon it. Rip sits back against the couch once more, lets out a breath--lets out something almost akin to a laugh, now that the deal seems to have been struck.]
It's been quite some time since there's been even this much promise of progress against this place. I'll confess, it's quite a positive, yet unexpected turn for this evening.
[ he hasn't, of course. asked. rather, rip has dashed his way around the periphery of his request -- letting peggy fall for the oldest gambit in the manual. she'd filled the details in for herself, leaping from one assumption to another. sparing him the indignity of a question, however unwittingly. if she were angry enough, she would then refuse to also spare him the next obvious question: what had he expected for the evening?
but peggy thinks she doesn't want that question answered honestly. but she doesn't want it answered dishonestly, either, when she has got herself convinced she could likely sniff out the lie. besides, the subject at hand is far more fascinating than the difficult politics of the heart -- a subject that's only grown more and more complicated the more she studies it.
best stick to these more familiar mountains and valleys. even so, she's not quite so quick as rip is to celebrate this thin edge of possibility. she shakes her head even as she admires the way in which his whole composure seems to relax.
no -- relax is the wrong word. unwind, perhaps. her attention ticks from the angle of his elbow to the rise and fall of his breath.
dourly: ] Don't let your hopes get so high.
[ admiration only takes her so far -- the rest of the way sees her slide almost naturally into the role of counter-weight to rip's exuberance. ]
[She not only spares herself the question of expectation, but also Rip. There are a few things he could provide in reply if pressed, quiet conversation and the warmth of the drink to be sure. But if she were to ask him, boldly, brazenly, just what he might have planned for the night, their first together since their dance at the wedding?
The only answer he might have been able to voice would have been Elton John.
Things takes a different turn, however. She chides him for that sudden spark of optimism, and on some level Rip understands that Peggy is right to do so. After all, this is hardly a guarantee of anything resembling escape, or even of securing the data. Still--
Still.]
I'm hardly one known for unfounded optimism, Miss Carter. [Even if the hint of a grin still plays along his lips, and there's a light in his eye that does not often nor easily shine.] I assure you, it's nothing more than celebration of a singular moment. You have my word that I will keep all hopes well checked.
[He must; Rip can remember the last time he believed a solution in view, one celebrated too soon with a drink of whiskey. His eagerness nearly led to the death of them all, a reminder now cemented as he picks up his glass for another sip.
She isn't wrong to have slapped his wrist as she has.]
[ snuffing out his gleam of optimism would have been an unenviable task. peggy finds herself grateful -- pleased, almost -- to see it persist in his eyes even after she censures him. it's not the sort of pleasure she can commit to words given the harsh stance she's already taken on his 'celebration' of a singular moment. as he calls it.
although, in peggy's ears, that rings an awful lot like rationalization.
still! it's good to see it in him: hope. she feels it's a far cry from the scattered personality she'd come across, him in his slippers, when she knocked on his door however many wednesdays ago. and watching him come to life with possibility reminds her a little of another conversation, years past, where while sitting under a tent in the rain she'd been the optimistic one. and not too long ago she'd told rip of her quiet believe that they should live in the world as it should be, could be. but that had been admitted under duress. tonight, she can choose to present only her pragmatism. ]
Well. [ her eyebrows raise and she puts on a warmer expression. peggy raises her glass in a kind of mock salute. ] Now that I have your word on the matter?
[ -- as if any of them could ever give promises about how hope and faith might tug at their hearts -- ]
I'm looking forward to us working together.
[ working. it's an important word, and it immediately defines them going forward. it's the sort of definition she'd felt had been lacking in the wake of their unexpected (albeit wonderful) dance. but this exchange of notes, this tempered promise to pursue something together...? that puts boundaries on this friendship. just-in-bloody-time. ]
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no subject
And Peggy won't either, if she doesn't have faith in the possibilities.
She takes something of a protective stance, which Rip at least realizes on some level is fair, if not ideal. He doesn't know Fitz well enough at all to say if he will need a push, or if he'll simply retreat into his self-doubt and fear. But in the end, he supposes they all might get a glimpse of the Peggy Carter who eventually founds an organization, and who inspires those who come years after to look at her with respect and awe.
Rip cannot say that it is a sight he doesn't also want to see.]
That is all I can ask. [And good still might come of it, if Fitz refuses. He might at least share his research for those who can build upon it. Rip sits back against the couch once more, lets out a breath--lets out something almost akin to a laugh, now that the deal seems to have been struck.]
It's been quite some time since there's been even this much promise of progress against this place. I'll confess, it's quite a positive, yet unexpected turn for this evening.
no subject
but peggy thinks she doesn't want that question answered honestly. but she doesn't want it answered dishonestly, either, when she has got herself convinced she could likely sniff out the lie. besides, the subject at hand is far more fascinating than the difficult politics of the heart -- a subject that's only grown more and more complicated the more she studies it.
best stick to these more familiar mountains and valleys. even so, she's not quite so quick as rip is to celebrate this thin edge of possibility. she shakes her head even as she admires the way in which his whole composure seems to relax.
no -- relax is the wrong word. unwind, perhaps. her attention ticks from the angle of his elbow to the rise and fall of his breath.
dourly: ] Don't let your hopes get so high.
[ admiration only takes her so far -- the rest of the way sees her slide almost naturally into the role of counter-weight to rip's exuberance. ]
no subject
The only answer he might have been able to voice would have been Elton John.
Things takes a different turn, however. She chides him for that sudden spark of optimism, and on some level Rip understands that Peggy is right to do so. After all, this is hardly a guarantee of anything resembling escape, or even of securing the data. Still--
Still.]
I'm hardly one known for unfounded optimism, Miss Carter. [Even if the hint of a grin still plays along his lips, and there's a light in his eye that does not often nor easily shine.] I assure you, it's nothing more than celebration of a singular moment. You have my word that I will keep all hopes well checked.
[He must; Rip can remember the last time he believed a solution in view, one celebrated too soon with a drink of whiskey. His eagerness nearly led to the death of them all, a reminder now cemented as he picks up his glass for another sip.
She isn't wrong to have slapped his wrist as she has.]
no subject
although, in peggy's ears, that rings an awful lot like rationalization.
still! it's good to see it in him: hope. she feels it's a far cry from the scattered personality she'd come across, him in his slippers, when she knocked on his door however many wednesdays ago. and watching him come to life with possibility reminds her a little of another conversation, years past, where while sitting under a tent in the rain she'd been the optimistic one. and not too long ago she'd told rip of her quiet believe that they should live in the world as it should be, could be. but that had been admitted under duress. tonight, she can choose to present only her pragmatism. ]
Well. [ her eyebrows raise and she puts on a warmer expression. peggy raises her glass in a kind of mock salute. ] Now that I have your word on the matter?
[ -- as if any of them could ever give promises about how hope and faith might tug at their hearts -- ]
I'm looking forward to us working together.
[ working. it's an important word, and it immediately defines them going forward. it's the sort of definition she'd felt had been lacking in the wake of their unexpected (albeit wonderful) dance. but this exchange of notes, this tempered promise to pursue something together...? that puts boundaries on this friendship. just-in-bloody-time. ]