[ his second cup won't go unnoticed. it's such a simple thing when he refills his cup -- mirroring a month of similar gestures with whiskey bottles, so much so that she already knows what he's about to do when his arm lifts. she knows it before his fingers even touch the thermos. it's more than an indication of rip's mental state; the second cup is her signal to stay where she's seated. unspoken permission to hold guard with him. to keep talking.

no matter the risks posed. no matter that she didn't bring sugar along. ]

I did. [ it's easily said. and fora brief tick of time, peggy almost convinces herself it's a truth she'd given up willingly. not so, however, when the rest rushes out. ] I wasted the better part of my Friday on it.

[ pleading; promising she would find him; confessing a love she'd like to pretend is gone but in truth it still sits lodged in her heart like an arrowhead. still, steve's plane crashed. peggy, this is my choice -- and oh, how she wished she could rob him of it.

equally, she wished she wasn't forced to confront the selfishness lurking toe-to-toe with love. ]

Nothing changed. [ he doesn't need her to say it; her tongue wags anyway. this particular line of conversation is just merciful enough that she doesn't go blurting her memory out in frantic, unhappy syllables. instead, she keeps her voice calm. ] After I saw your broadcast, I locked the door. I haven't been back since.

[ peggy hadn't said a word over the network. but, it seems, she'd been watching all the same. monitoring, really. ]