[ after this most recent exchange, she doesn't actually believe he'll drift asleep -- intentionally or otherwise. but her goals do lie in that direction: that perhaps he'll find a scrap of rest or an inch of peace or, what's most likely, her very presence beside him might ward off others from stopping too long and asking too many questions.
and if anyone tries, she can shoo them along with a soft hissed shh and a finger to her lips before she points toward the 'sleeping' man.
it reminds her a great deal of missions with the commandos. there were always nights when even those who didn't have to take the watch still felt so restless and incapable of sleep. and everyone around them would pretend like sleep was had, and not call too rough of attention to the fact that once the laughter and stories died away they were all just bone-weary soldiers sitting in silence around their campfire. they might not always sleep, but it was often enough to know they could switch off the more alert pieces of their brains and let someone else take picquet. there's something comradely in how she offers that same service to rip.
in the meantime, she's got her thermos to finish off and another pastry to bite through. and although she'd said quarter of an hour aloud, she stays nearer to a full one before deciding it's time to move along. peggy minimizes her need to speak, instead pressing the palm of her hand against his shoulder to 'wake' him. she mumbles something about checking on her own space, but that she's left him a cup in the thermos. keep it for now. i expect to collect it back once this madness is through.
never anyone mind that she could simply magic herself a fresh one from any closet.
peggy rises to her feet and brushes crumbs off her skirt and when she leaves she leaves behind a buttery croissant -- the last in the box. his, she's decided, to eat or abandon at will. ]
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and if anyone tries, she can shoo them along with a soft hissed shh and a finger to her lips before she points toward the 'sleeping' man.
it reminds her a great deal of missions with the commandos. there were always nights when even those who didn't have to take the watch still felt so restless and incapable of sleep. and everyone around them would pretend like sleep was had, and not call too rough of attention to the fact that once the laughter and stories died away they were all just bone-weary soldiers sitting in silence around their campfire. they might not always sleep, but it was often enough to know they could switch off the more alert pieces of their brains and let someone else take picquet. there's something comradely in how she offers that same service to rip.
in the meantime, she's got her thermos to finish off and another pastry to bite through. and although she'd said quarter of an hour aloud, she stays nearer to a full one before deciding it's time to move along. peggy minimizes her need to speak, instead pressing the palm of her hand against his shoulder to 'wake' him. she mumbles something about checking on her own space, but that she's left him a cup in the thermos. keep it for now. i expect to collect it back once this madness is through.
never anyone mind that she could simply magic herself a fresh one from any closet.
peggy rises to her feet and brushes crumbs off her skirt and when she leaves she leaves behind a buttery croissant -- the last in the box. his, she's decided, to eat or abandon at will. ]