[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]

[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.]

[mucked]

I know what a television is, Fitz.

[ -- but the correction is gentle enough. and without the otherwise ever constant agent before his name. they are, after all, having a drink. and maybe the idea of television and its later ubiquitousness is odd to her, but she's had a great many crash courses since arriving.

still, there's no attitude or indignation when she assures him that she understands at least half of the reference. ]

Although I didn't realize you could play games on them.

[hypoxic]

They usually require an additional unit to perform the activity, but it's quite common to sit round and play with friends. The lads fancy playing war games -- we've got a unit named after the Howling Commandos. [Is that weird? He hopes she doesn't find it odd.]

[mucked]

...Really.

[ it actually might be a little odd. peggy's not certain how she feels about it. but, after another drink, she's quick to tell him: ]

Dugan would love that. Likely. [ a huff of a breath. ] He'd probably say he was damned honoured.

[ even if peggy herself might not agree. ]

[hypoxic]

Dugan would, but not you? [ He notes the difference with care. She's speaking deliberately for a reason. ]

They're your friends, aren't they? [ or is that too an issue of the past tense? ]

[mucked]

[ he asks about that status, that friendship, and peggy answers with refreshing honesty: ] They are. More than most.

[ at first, she'd not run with the squad. peggy had hung back, usually, and was instead the instrument that collected intel for the howlies to act upon. but after the valkyrie crashed--

well. she'd grown very close to them indeed. ]

But Dugan loves all sorts of things I don't. [ they embrace their reputation; peggy has always struggled with that part. ] Cigars, for one. God, that man stinks of them.

[ she continues to speak with that same care, gently nudging the conversation away from her internal hesitation. after all, she doesn't quite understand this 'game' and what it means to have the howlies held there like a namesake. ]

[hypoxic]

[At that, his hesitation subsides.]

That somehow never seems to be reported in Sergeant Dugan's biographies. What else was he like? [What were they all like?]

[mucked]

Brash. Loud. Embarrassing. [ each word delivered with a smile. and when peggy continues, it's very much in the present tense. ] I see him less often, these days, as the Commandos still stick to Europe -- but I can tell you that there is nothing quite like sitting 'round a campfire with all of them.

[ she misses it. maybe misses it more than she does the rest of 'home' -- but her time with the commandos is something treasured. ]

[hypoxic]

If there's one benefit we get from being trapped here, it might be that there's a chance for unexpected company. They might be drawn here any day now.

[mucked]

God, I hope not. [ no offense to anyone she's met here -- and as she thinks on it, her eyes wander the crowd -- but peggy would happily be back home tomorrow. by choice or by happenstance. to think of the howlies being dragged here, too...

her nose crinkles. she comes up with a good enough reason without cracking the gentle good will they've developed thus far: ]

Because guess who would be stuck nannying the whole lot of them?

[ peggy bloody carter, that's who. ]

[hypoxic]

[Her eyes wander, and he assumes it's because she's grown tired of the subject. She so rarely likes to talk about herself; it's probably upsetting to her to be asked.]

I can see how it would be inconvenient for you. Are you often tasked with nannying others?

[Is she nannying him right now?]

[mucked]

Often? God, no.

[ it had been different with the commandos. warm, bright, accepting. and she'd supported the lot of them with firm lectures and rolls of her eyes and no one else has quite earned that treatment from her here -- none except tony stark, but she's less keen to admit so.

peggy doesn't know how to tell him that she's not near close enough to most people to reach that point. worse yet, she doesn't want to say that the point was only ever brought up as a diversion. ]

Not if I can help it.

[hypoxic]

In that case, it's probably for the best that new arrivals seem to have calmed down for us. [She ought to be able to have all the quiet time she'd like.]

These things tend to happen in patches. Perhaps it's moved on to drawing people from other worlds.

[mucked]

I have heard a few theories on that -- [ but then she wets her lips and considers the symbolic act of having fetched the fellow a beer and what it might mean if she allows the conversation to lapse once again into work.

it's difficult for her, driven as she is, but peggy fills her lungs and empties them again and tells herself it'll be worth it (in the end) if she doesn't push this point. ]

Regardless of how it works, I for one will be relieved not to see too many familiar faces. [ in particular, she dreads seeing steve again. ] Or unfamiliar ones, for that matter, who nevertheless know mine.

-- How many of us are left? Eight? [ she nearly says six, but at the last minute she remembers the maximoff girl she's yet to meet. tony talked about her, though. ] No, wait. Nine. Rogers said the raccoon was from our universe.

[ if the raccoon is still here. frankly, she's never spoken to him either. ]

[hypoxic]

If I'm to be perfectly honest, I'm not certain any longer. I'm not very close to some of them. We've got three from my team, yourself, and Tony Stark. Agent Romanoff is here as well, but it's been an age since I chanced past any of the others. It's possible they've been lost.

[Or maybe he just doesn't go outside very much himself.]

[mucked]

-- The other Carter is still here.

[ a little awkward, a little uncertain. as though peggy doesn't quite know what to call sharon carter. using any word to demonstrate a familial connection seems sparse and unearned, given she'd never met the woman before here. ]

Oh, I don't know. Still seems to be a lot of us kicking around. For better or worse.

[hypoxic]

That's a shame.

[There's no love lost between Sharon Carter and himself. But he's almost certain it's been discussed with this Carter, so he'll keep from harping on it too much.]

Though sometimes I do wonder about that. How often people are sent home but not reported lost. I don't think we've had much success at establishing any sort of census for the population here.

[mucked]

[ peggy doesn't defend the woman. really, peggy isn't in the business of defending anyone aloud to anyone else. she's no one's conversational crusader -- much as she hopes others extend her the same courtesy. but that doesn't mean she won't mention sharon, of course. it's almost therapeutic -- as though she's acclimatizing herself to the idea of blood-kin within the mansion.

-- playing auntie to tony stark has been easier, paradoxically. but she can imagine herself being important to howard's son more quickly than she can her own biological family. ]

You wouldn't. [ she answers, leaning into the change in subject. ] One third of us assembled wouldn't trust it, one third would bicker over who gets to administer it, and the final third would want to administer it exactly because it couldn't be trusted.

[hypoxic]

Exactly how the death list notion played out.

[There'd been some heated discussion among SHIELD members about what to make of it. It seemed to be handled like such a power play...]

At least our quarreling is predictable.

[mucked]

[ a soft hum of agreement. it feels a lot like being stuck at an impasse: like knowing the best way forward while simultaneously understanding it's a path no one actually wants to take. like being deserted in the wild lawless west of old while also being tripped up by the never-ending red tape of foreign policy. appeasing everyone; achieving nothing.

that woman, evelyn, she tried. and maybe she's managed a list of sorts but peggy doubts it's comprehensive. by the very nature of the stipulations allowed, it will never be. not to mention the inherent risks... ]

It does raise the question. [ she can't help herself. ] Which third do you fall into?

[hypoxic]

I find that protecting a community works best when the community doesn't know there's someone looking out for it. It avoids some of the messiness. Too many perspectives make it difficult to get anything done.

[mucked]

And would you feel the same way even if you were't the 'someone' peeking out from the shadows?

[ peggy knows her answer, although it's entirely unreasonable and exactly as arrogant as someone might expect from a person already hip-deep in premier intelligence agencies. ]

[hypoxic]

I think we all hope there's someone out there watching over us.

[He smiles, though it's strained.]