[She watches him, and for a moment their eyes meet before Rip lowers his gaze. The slow movement of her hand makes a find staring point, and one might think Rip fascinated in how Peggy closes the thermos once her next cup of tea has been poured.
In truth what she's doing barely registers at all.
She points out the futility of speculation in the next breath; fitting, given the overall theme of these days. It's almost ironic that neither Steve Rogers nor this Barnes are no longer around, during the event which would see them sharing the truth whether they want to or not. Perhaps that would have them reliving it, behind the doors of their own rooms.
But Peggy makes it clear why she isn't hunting down answers. Whether those others wanted to or not, Peggy's clever. She could take advantage, should she opt for that measure of selfishness. Instead it manifests itself in other ways, in not wanting to know when the truth would be impossible to keep secret.
And that's well enough. She's been kind to him during this brief encounter; not asked certain things she could, not attempted to go into his room. A safer topic is almost welcome.]
The power generated and stored within the gun that allows it to rapidly fire emits a light that shows due to the weapon's design. [As a revolver, though it is, in fact, only that in appearance. Rip unholsters the gun in question, holds it up for her inspection.] So in other words, because I wanted it to.
[Not the stealthiest of things at times, but it's served him well. And to demonstrate—and perhaps take some of the edge off his frustrations—Rip points it at the wall next to his door and fires a blast. There's scorching left behind to be sure, but not enough to blast through the wall itself. Just a touch of target practice, as it were.]
no subject
In truth what she's doing barely registers at all.
She points out the futility of speculation in the next breath; fitting, given the overall theme of these days. It's almost ironic that neither Steve Rogers nor this Barnes are no longer around, during the event which would see them sharing the truth whether they want to or not. Perhaps that would have them reliving it, behind the doors of their own rooms.
But Peggy makes it clear why she isn't hunting down answers. Whether those others wanted to or not, Peggy's clever. She could take advantage, should she opt for that measure of selfishness. Instead it manifests itself in other ways, in not wanting to know when the truth would be impossible to keep secret.
And that's well enough. She's been kind to him during this brief encounter; not asked certain things she could, not attempted to go into his room. A safer topic is almost welcome.]
The power generated and stored within the gun that allows it to rapidly fire emits a light that shows due to the weapon's design. [As a revolver, though it is, in fact, only that in appearance. Rip unholsters the gun in question, holds it up for her inspection.] So in other words, because I wanted it to.
[Not the stealthiest of things at times, but it's served him well. And to demonstrate—and perhaps take some of the edge off his frustrations—Rip points it at the wall next to his door and fires a blast. There's scorching left behind to be sure, but not enough to blast through the wall itself. Just a touch of target practice, as it were.]