[ what peggy had done on friday -- on that first day -- had been to take what she couldn't change and seal it away. her first instinct upon reviewing rip's broadcast had been to find something she could change. take all her nervous energy and channel it into something better, if such a thing even existed. so she remembered the glimpse of red and gold at her window mid-plea (sixth, eighth, tenth attempt to talk steve down from his choice) and she'd gone to check on tony. she feels...responsible for him in that same starched fashion: he's not even a blood relative and lord knows she doesn't owe howard any favours, but he is who he is. and for that alone peggy had seemed intent to see him through this.
and for her efforts she got another shock to her heart. the rest of her friday had been spent in mourning. the fact of the matter is...she feels more prepared to hear out rip's story, now, because at least she knows it'll have no bearing on her own life. she can be supportive without being subjective. it's a role she's sorely missed.
peggy claims another pastry. they're sirens, sitting there untouched. something to do with her free hand. something to chew and swallow and engage her mouth so that she doesn't go bursting between his sentences and interrupting him with things she'd ordinarily know better than to say.
and at the given gap in rip's words, she also glances back to the door. still, it looms. ]
...So. This event is less figurative and far more literal than I first suspected. [ time wants to happen, he'd said. the words stick in her thoughts and cycle around all her others. this isn't some ghoulish analogy trapped in their rooms. for rip, it was ghoulish reality.
all the pastry in the world can't stop her next question: ] How many attempts did you make?
no subject
and for her efforts she got another shock to her heart. the rest of her friday had been spent in mourning. the fact of the matter is...she feels more prepared to hear out rip's story, now, because at least she knows it'll have no bearing on her own life. she can be supportive without being subjective. it's a role she's sorely missed.
peggy claims another pastry. they're sirens, sitting there untouched. something to do with her free hand. something to chew and swallow and engage her mouth so that she doesn't go bursting between his sentences and interrupting him with things she'd ordinarily know better than to say.
and at the given gap in rip's words, she also glances back to the door. still, it looms. ]
...So. This event is less figurative and far more literal than I first suspected. [ time wants to happen, he'd said. the words stick in her thoughts and cycle around all her others. this isn't some ghoulish analogy trapped in their rooms. for rip, it was ghoulish reality.
all the pastry in the world can't stop her next question: ] How many attempts did you make?