[NYE Party] happy new year and lots of fun

[nascensibility]

Who: EVERYONE, but especially you!
Where: Wonderland Ballroom
When: New Year's Eve
Rating: PG - PG13 (will change if applicable)
Summary: New Year's Eve Party
The Story:

[ Previously in the month all residents received an invitation to a formal event: a black tie affair to ring in the New Year. The ballroom and adjacent areas are decked out for the party starting at eight o'clock sharp, meticulously planned and executed, glittering décor to match the no doubt glittering attire as music pours into the halls from the dance floor.

Bars flank each side, service for all manner of alcohol unless a minor requests something, and the primary setting stage features an enormous clock for the countdown. ]




[ Where will you be when the clock strikes midnight? ]

Comments

[hypoxic]

[He runs a hand down his face. Professional. He can achieve this.]

The point. [Deep breath.]

Is that there's no reason to continue on with fancies of heroism.

[mucked]

Oh, well -- indeed. [ there's a spark of grit in her reply. sandpaper, really, against the very implication he makes. ] The point is never about heroism. Heroism is likely overrated.

[ she reaches for her glass. ] We can agree on that much. At least.

[hypoxic]

[That isn't quite the reply he was expecting. He swallows.]

You aren't the first person to tell me that.

[mucked]

[ she wonders who else has said it -- she nearly asks. but that question would be vanity, and vanity is exactly what she's warning against in this little detour. ]

Heroism is often a matter of public relations. Of public perception. That's not a game we get to play, Agent Fitz. We chose a profession that -- when done correctly -- keeps us far from heroism's limelight.

[ -- at least until one makes a name for herself founding a whole new organization and suddenly becomes a citizen of that same limelight she derides just now. ]

That's not to say you can't be heroic. [ she mitigates her point, invites a bit of compromise. ] Only that I've always thought it shined better as a byproduct than as an end goal.

[hypoxic]

[ the answer would be less comfortable. It would involve admitting that he'd been wrong to push a friend. That he might have placed faith in the wrong sort of person, or that all his alliances are cursed to end in betrayal. Jemma would call him superstitious. ]

Or maybe it's about being able to do the right thing. Unfailingly and unselfishly. I don't think I'll ever be able to accomplish that myself.

[ he pauses then, and forces out an unconvincing smile. ]

But that's quite enough of that sort of talk. This is supposed to be a party.

[mucked]

[ it absolutely is about doing the right thing. but, then again, what's right and what's heroic aren't always one in the same. the same actions that earn medals won't necessarily save the world. the same operations that garner promotions won't necessarily bolster an organization's health. the last two years in the ssr have taught her a number of hard lessons in that regard.

coming here has only enforced them. and maybe a bit of polish has been rubbed off her optimism -- maybe she's been too far out from steve rogers's heartfelt influence -- but peggy can't see the forest for the trees.

regardless! fitz registers his desire to move on. and, unwilling to alienate what little progress she's made, she nudges that ball none-too-gently back onto his side of the field. ]

You're right. But I've never been very good at earnest party talk. So I could tell you how you scrub up alright or you could do us a favour and say what you'd rather talk about.

[hypoxic]

How I -- [He looks up then, mouth agape as he registers that, followed by a speedy dismissal.]

Not me. If you want to see someone who knows how to dress herself, take a look at Jemma.

[He nods through the crowd, where Jemma is chatting with someone about something charming, wearing the most beautiful dress he's ever seen. It doesn't matter what she's actually wearing; anything is gorgeous when she's inside of it.]

[mucked]

It may be difficult for you to believe, [ she huffs, ] but -- shockingly -- more than one person can look decent at time. It's not something to talk about as if you're taking bloody turns at it.

[ really, fitz! yes -- jemma looks lovely. but saying so doesn't automatically negate the fact that he himself looks rather more pieced together than she's accustomed to seeing him. ]

[hypoxic]

If we are, it's always her turn.

[Or maybe he just wants to always be talking about Jemma Simmons at all times. She's his favorite subject.]

[mucked]

[ some might listen to sentiment like this and feel moved -- or feel admiration. or something. peggy, for the most part, feels exhausted. she tries not to let it show too much in the crease of her brow or the way her attention wanders.

exhausted and embarrassed both. frankly, she finds it altogether harder a topic to tackle than down-to-the-wire portal work. so she takes a long long long drink of whiskey and does what she can to survive it.

give her a moment. and then, clearing her throat: ] It can't be easy. Maintaining a relationship through all the chaos this place flings at us like clockwork.

[hypoxic]

She and I work best when we're together. I'm fairly useless without her. We've always been best friends. It probably helps things somewhat.

[Oh, does she want to talk about something else? He doesn't notice. His eyes haven't left Jemma's frame since he noticed her over there.]

[mucked]

[ even if she wasn't embittered and hurt and a little bit cracked in half, peggy would have struggled to stomach what fitz was saying about himself. she can't imagine -- not for a moment -- the scrape and hollowed-out feeling that must follow an opinion like that one: fairly useless without her.

for peggy carter, that doesn't sound much like love. but it's not her place to say it. ]

Somewhat. [ she echoes. buying time or merely agreeing because agreeing is easiest. ] Certainly.

[hypoxic]

[Silence follows the agreement, and he'll slowly remember that he's embroiled in a conversation in the first place.]

Sorry about that. I'm afraid I get a bit carried away when it comes to Jemma. I have a friend at home who thinks it's a bit of an embarrassment. I hope it's not troublesome to you.

[mucked]

[ peggy tucks her glass back onto the table. her fingers trace the rim -- her expression pinches. ]

Troublesome? Not at all. [ true enough. it's not that she's troubled, exactly. ] I suppose it just seems rather...foreign.

[hypoxic]

Foreign? Isn't it just a normal sort of way to react to someone you love?

[mucked]

[ ask her about german ciphers. ask her about where to take shelter in a russian winter. ask her which heels are best worn with an intent to break bones underfoot. ask her about the war of the worlds or ask her about what howard stark's butler thinks of ginger rogers. ask her about anything, really, as long as you don't ask her about love.

she breathes in -- tight and sore and heartsick for a full moment. ]

I'm not convinced there's any one normal when it comes to such things.

[ love. peggy has simultaneous felt it both constantly and not in a long long time. she feels a ghostly love, haunting up the corners of her body. worse yet, she knows fitz knows. he'd asked; she'd answered. peggy carter loved -- loves -- steve rogers. and dearly. ]

[hypoxic]

[She's uncomfortable. That's understandable. He grimaces and lowers his eyes again.]

I'm sorry -- we don't have to discuss it if you'd rather not.

[mucked]

[ she is happy for the pair of them. she doesn't want to make it appear as though there's any instinct to the contrary. but she can't quite reach those words.

so instead she clears her throat. ] Cheers.

[ thanks, yes, let's move on from the star spangled elephant in the room. its trumpeting seems to follow her everywhere. ]

Look at us. [ a sigh. ] A pair of utterly miserable conversationalists.

[hypoxic]

I'm fairly sure that's why they invented beer, yeah? It tends to smooth the rest of that over.

[Perhaps a bit too much smoothing, but tensions probably won't run as high in present company as he sometimes needs to worry.]

[mucked]

[ in that case! ]

Are you an ale or a lager man? Because Lord knows I could do with freshening my glass. I might as well grab you something at the same time.

[hypoxic]

More of an ale... If there's anything of an IPA? [The order itself might betray that he was taught social drinking by Americans.]

[mucked]

[ -- while she's got nothing against beer, and while she'd sooner drink it than (say) wine, peggy still finds herself strangely at odds with the idea of sitting and cracking open a pair of beers with someone. that's always been such a laddish thing to do. and, therefore, a thing she's rarely been invited to join.

barring, of course, the commandos. they'd invite peggy to drink just about anything with them. that said, it's not as though pale ales were uncommon in the '40s. his drink order doesn't surprise her too much.

so after taking her brief leave of the table, she weaves her way to the bar and asks whoever's working the bar to pour her a decent ipa, sure, but to also give her a few measures of scotch. whiskey is still her drink of choice, even if it doesn't taste quite as good now as it does on wednesdays.

it's not long before she's back by fitz. she sets the pint down first before taking her seat once more. ]

I confess I never quite got the appeal of beer.

[hypoxic]

[If she'd said so, Fitz might experience a swell of pride at being considered a lad. He's fought fairly hard to get in with the lads at home. And when Peggy returns, he'll brighten. She's chosen something stuff for herself, but not the sorts of pretentious posh drinks that Klaus and his group fancy. This is a positive sort of social rebound.]

I never did either, to be fair. [He accepts the drink with a nod of thanks.] It just seems to bring people together who otherwise wouldn't make time for one another. There's something really comforting about it. But that probably says more about m'self than it should.

[He raises his glass to hers.]

[mucked]

[ fitz has a rather sweet way of looking at it, doesn't he? but she's learned that despite his scowls and hesitations, he seems to have a rather sweet way of looking at a lot of things. and although she's had the opportunity to grate and bump against some of his more frustrating strengths -- he'd tracked her, for one -- she can't help but worry (just a little) how the job must eat up and spit out sentiment like his.

because he's right. it absolutely says more about him than it should. but peggy doesn't tease that thread out any further than he allows it. instead, she knows her squatter tumbler against his pint glass and nods. ]

I started on beer, of course. I think we all do. [ beer and hard cider -- with her peers at st-martin-in-the-fields passing bottles around as though they were well tough for doing so. getting served in pubs just a few boroughs over, maybe venturing as far as whitechapel just to keep from getting kicked out. ] And once, when I was still at school, I got awful sick on cheap rum. Now I can't stand the stuff.

[ but whiskey! whiskey was of her brother's introduction. and michael carter's little sister soon outstripped him in his ability to hold it. it's hard not to taste those notes across any blend and remember him.

she takes a drink. ]

So it's usually scotch when I'm on one side of the pond and bourbon when I'm on the other. And gin in a pinch.

[ it sounds like a fuss when (in reality) she'll drink anything that's on offer -- especially if she's undercover. but just because she can drink vodka with soviets doesn't mean she likes the stuff. ]

[hypoxic]

I'd reckon getting sick on anything might put you off it for life. There was a bartender at my father's favorite pub -- used to sneak me scotch when I'd come round looking for him until my mum put a stop to it.

[Beer means different things. It's social. Safe and happy. Hard liquors belong to the loners who're about to leave their families.]

Started picking up beer the last time I was on the mend, actually. Had nothing better to do with myself, and one of the lads in engineering invited me to play some Xbox. That's -- it's like a game that's played on the television -- which. Is a bit like radio with pictures.

[She should be good with radio right? He thinks so.]