open » i've got an atlas in my hands

[mucked]

Who: Peggy Carter + YOU
Where: Library, Rabbit Hole Diner, and other locations.
When: Early Feb
Rating: PG-13; will warn for changes in individual threads.
Summary: A catch-all for the first half of the month. There are some open prompts under the cut, but I'm also posting some closed starters in the comments. Hit me up if you'd like something other than the options below.
The Story:
[ DURING february's first few days, peggy pays a few productive visits to the »LIBRARY. she arrives armed with a scrap pressed into her palm. the paper is thin and torn, jagged, from a puzzle book -- folded in threes with precision and hard corners forced onto its asymmetrical shape. while she walks from stack to stack she traces the list's edge with the pad of her thumb. in reality, she doesn't need it. she'd long-since memorizes the book titles recommended to her in order to bring her loosely up to speed with popular science. so the list is a flimsy talisman, maybe, but during these visits it represents purpose. forward momentum.

her reading list is accumulated over multiple days, as though some reflexive defense mechanism convinces peggy to take her time. patience is rarely her strongest suit but she nevertheless makes an effort, knowing that a rush will only leave her rudderless and once again without distraction. to that end, she allows herself to wander off-path. maybe she's come for non-fiction, but she detours through a shelf of thrillers and mysteries and adventure stories.

she touches the spines as she passes them by -- her little list peeking between her knuckles like an ace at the ready. peggy never intends to appear lost but catch her at an odd moment and she might want some help. after all, stark never gave her author names to go with the titles.

LATER, with her coursework assembled, she goes elsewhere to conduct her reading. a great deal of it happens behind her bedroom door as she readjusts to a solitary life now that jane has returned to her husband. but some of it happens at the »DINER. with a whole booth claimed for herself, she sits with the dust jacket removed so bystanders can't easily discern what she's reading stephen hawking's a brief history of time, incidentally. it takes some two or three chapters to really dig into work she couldn't already recognize in passing -- and, on occasion, she offers up an audible scoff when she finds herself confronted with a colourful explanation of scientific discovery which nevertheless somehow manages to neglect howard stark's contribution.

she orders a plate of chips (hot; crispy; salted) and implores the wait-staff to keep them coming. instead of tea, she asks for a milkshake. not a quarter of an hour passes before she's cracked open a journal and uncapped a pen. her annotations are, for the time being, made in pitman shorthand -- and so appear as a series of near shapeless scribbles to those who aren't fluent. even so, there's no secrecy behind that choice. merely a swell of impatience after she'd worked so hard to contain it earlier.

and yet peggy's not averse to interruptions. not exactly. she may not be the most welcoming conversation partner, nor is she particularly fond of idle chatter, but she doesn't chase off interruptions or inquiries.

OTHERWISE, known associates and strangers alike are free to run into her »OUT & ABOUT. whether she's 'commuting' from quarters to library or grabbing a quick breakfast in the dining room early in the morning. she doesn't have a precise schedule (on most days) but she's not impossible to chance upon. she's nearly always immaculate -- from heel to hair-pins. having a project in hand puts her in a better mood. ]

Comments

JAN 31ST » CLOSED TO RIP HUNTER

[mucked]

[ when rip contacts her a few hours before their scheduled 'appointment,' peggy has too much faith to fear he might cancel on her. and yet she still suffers a flutter of relief when all he does is ask her to bring along a pair of mugs. because unlike practically every wednesday within recent memory, today she doesn't go knocking on his bedroom door in anticipation of whiskey and other diversions. no, today she waits for him at the firing range.

and all because last week they came to an agreement. a wager, actually: a friendly little shooting competition where the winner named his or her potential prize. the stakes had been off the cuff and playful and (chief of all) designed to needle one another. yet! even with frustration hanging in the balance, peggy finds herself looking forward to this lapse in their pattern. a change in venue is daunting for about half-a-minute before she pulls something familiar and standard issue from the closet. peggy exchanges her trademark heels and silhouette for boots and comfort. she wears her gun -- the pretty little ppk, upgraded -- on a holster on her hip. refreshingly visible. and she wears her hair in a tidy plait, keen to keep her vision clear of any wayward pieces.

the last day in january is a crisp one. clear-aired and cold. for now, peggy keeps her gloves on her hands as she leans against the weather worn post holding up the firing range's shelter. from this spot, she's got the odd little pleasure of watching him trek across the grounds. it's another minor diversion from the pattern: this afternoon, he's the one coming to her, and she arrived early for exactly that reason.

and waiting beside her, sitting on a snow peppered shelf, she's got two mugs. one a rather dull eggshell and the other rather not. ]

[directed]

[Funny how the mansion seems to provide limited opportunity for Rip to wear the outfit he might normally don each day within his own world; it's a thought he's considered while getting dressed, realizing that it might indeed be the first time Peggy's seen him dressed head to toe as he so often had as a Time Master. Duster and all, a notion that sparks amusement for him considering the activity he and Peggy are about to engage in. A wager, a contest, born of her insistence that Rip take an actual gamble for once, given that normally he's one to attempt and weigh the potential outcome and consequence of every available path.

(In truth he wonders if Peggy just doesn't want to show off a bit, given how things had gone the last time they fired lasers together.)

All the same, he heads out to the firing range with his holster at his side and anticipation sparking in his thoughts. Not just for their little game, but equally for Peggy's reactions to certain surprises he's brought along: the sandwiches contained in the ordinary looking brown box, and the tea already sweetened in the thermos dangling from the fingers of his other hand. It's a far cry from the whiskey they so typically indulge in, but a special occasion calls for certain changes to be made.

--Not that they're calling this wager that; special. Nor by any other name.

He's a little surprised to see her already waiting on him as he approaches. Full hands mean he can't offer a greeting wave, so instead Rip waits until he's near enough to be heard.]

And here I was assuming I'd be right on time. [He is; rather, it's Peggy who's arrived early. Rather than point that out, however, Rip moves to the shelf where the two mugs wait, setting the thermos down beside them. He briefly eyes her selections before turning his gaze towards her.] Have you been waiting long?

library;

[redheadpepper]

[ When in doubt, Pepper feels, the best way to tackle a strange situation is to do one's homework. Knowledge, after all, is power, and research has always been one of her strong points. It's easy to fall back on here, given the vast library at their disposal.

Whether the library has anything actually useful to their situation, is another matter entirely, but a girl can hope.

Tony's armor is made of metal, and Pepper's is made of wool and silk - pencil skirts and high heels are her armor of choice and she is fully businesslike, with her hair pulled back in a loose chignon as she scans the shelves.

When she spots Peggy, she gives the other woman a warm smile and a wave. ]

This library is very impressive, credit where it's due.

[mucked]

Ms. Potts.

[ the smile is returned, although the wave isn't. peggy's arms a bit preoccupied at the moment as she works at prying a hardcover title off a shelf that's only a touch too tall for her. but she triumphs, in the end, and steps back with a satisfied huff of breath.

as to the rest of pepper's greeting: ] I suppose it rather depends on your perspective. I wonder if pulling books from various worlds is any easier or harder than pulling people. Perhaps the mansion's book collection is small potatoes compared to its collection of abductees.

library!

[beautifullies]

[ Peggy isn't the only one looking for very specific books on very specific topics. Claire's American history is a bit rusty, after all, and if that's where she winds up, well, she'd quite like to know more about it. Claire rounds a corner with three books, the top being 1776. If she's going to be plopped in the middle of yet another revolution and war with the Crown, well, best to know as much about it as she can.

When she sees Peggy she nods politely but then envies her outfit. It's what Claire used to wear, but she hasn't transitioned yet, back to more modern clothing. Even stepping back into the 40s would be an improvement over corsets. ]

Ms. Carter.

[ She smiles in greeting. She's glad, at least, she can be assured this truly is Peggy and not her mirror. ]

Browsing for a bit of light reading?

[mucked]

[ -- oh, hello. there's a special gratitude found for those who patch and practice. peggy might be a chilly creature, but she finds a friendly(ish) smile for claire. it's hard not to at least harbour some lingering warmth towards the woman who sewed your leg shut when it needed sewing.

as for her question, however! peggy eyes the cover of claire's book -- the date itself is telling. ]

About as light as yours, I'd wager. [ ... ] Learning about America, are we?

FEB 2ND » CLOSED TO JANE WELLER

[mucked]

[ and, just like that, it seems another day on peggy's social calendar is spoken for. ordinarily, she might have resisted the urge to invite jane back to her place on the first friday in february. ordinarily, she wouldn't have felt an urge to invite someone somewhere in the first place. but part of making certain jane was secure and at peace with her return 'home' was to also insist that they not quit each other cold turkey.

which is why friday midday saw her surveying her little bachelor flat with a keen and careful eye. is this how edwin jarvis feels, surveying his own handiwork in one of howard's lavish properties? vibrating just beneath the skin with a need to see it all ship-shape and adequate for any and all company?

but all of that disappears when jane arrives and peggy ushers her inside -- under far better circumstances, now, than the first time. after their hellos, she nods jane in the direction of the sofa. she's got so many questions and quite a few temperatures to take concerning how things are going with kurt. but peggy decides to start out with a soft lob. ]

Go on, have a seat, I've got a question for you.

[ although in reality peggy's version of a 'soft lob' is probably closer in nature to a curve ball. ]

[endingpoint]

[ Jane's not nervous, not really, but she does know after everything she'd said about Kurt - sometimes drunk, sometimes very, very sober - Peggy knows everything. Every way Jane felt, all the ways she hurt and felt betrayed. Maybe it doesn't make sense on paper that Jane is home, but this is her marriage, her entire life. Maybe it's understandable. Still, she needs a safe place outside of Kurt, and because she doesn't want to lose the friendship she's forged with Peggy, this seems like the best thing to do.

She's wearing her wedding ring again and sits comfortably, leaning back against the couch. ]

Go ahead. And don't pretend like you're going to go easy on me.

( not here )

[revokes]

[ it takes a while but in the end, it always happens. tony asks friday, any heat signatures? and when the answer is none he knows it's time for a detour.

he's been making a project out of it, after all. one cold friday morning sees him sneaking through the window, looking around and getting down to business.

he never takes too long. he's beginning to suspect she may come in and catch him in the act and the whole point of it is stealth.

today, the iron man poster returns to its proper place on the wall.

he steals her towels too. all of them. they get replaced with a very nice set of hooded towels.

oh. and there's also a mini fridge sitting on the table. with a note. of all things.

for iced tea. you do drink iced tea right? ]

( also not here )

[mucked]

[ a sentimental person might have kept the note. peggy, on the other hand, crumples it up in one hand and tosses it in the bin. but that doesn't feel like quite enough retaliation, exactly. because yes, alright, it's not like she'd turn her nose up an an iced tea but the call-out feels especially barbed this week. what an utter wanker -- like father, like son, only howard's needling was never quite like this. there's a kind of quiet want and greedy affection under every offering, but that doesn't make peggy any more inclined to keep any of it.

the towels are abandoned to the bottom of her steamer trunk, underneath the guns. the fridge! now, the fridge she leaves out -- but only after grabbing a black marker and scribbling in a patchy version of tony stark's signature facial hair right onto the iron man's mask that stands in for the mini-fridge's door.

peggy doesn't go hunting him down. not yet, at any rate. she doesn't dare give him the satisfaction. ]

diner

[ischyros]

( Pitman used to be standard years ago but Diana hasn't seen it in some years and she'd never gotten much fluency in it, only so much as to recognize it when it's being used. So she does, when she passes Peggy's table, and it's of interest enough to her that she stops for a moment and watches as she scratches her pen over the paper before saying something. )

Found something world-breaking? If it's going to get us out of here, I'd be willing to help you with it.

( Diana is always looking for that one elusive thing that cracks the code of Wonderland and sends them all home with this place tucked away as a forgotten memory. She's yet to find it and it frustrates her more and more as Wonderland starts to feel like it has more substance than the life she'd had back home. )

[mucked]

World-breaking? [ she plays it off coy -- not due to any distrust, really, but because the truth of what she's studying makes her feel vulnerable. ] Oh, hardly.

[ except that some of the material is world-breaking to her. science the likes of which she's only imagined -- the likes of which minds like howard stark's has only theorized. and here it is, pat and pretty in a popular science book.

but peggy doesn't banish the woman. instead, she lets the book fall shut. ]

Only I didn't want to write on the pages themselves. It's a library book, you see.

Library

[bibliocorn]

[Sunburst loves the library. Whenever the chaos or the sheer weight of being trapped here feels too much, he can come here and centre himself again. He understands books. NO matter what is going on around him, in a library, he can find peace.

He's been devouring books from all kinds of worlds, fiction and nonfiction alike, creating an ever eclectic reading project for himself. He's wandering the shelves, a trail of books following him in the air, surrounded by a soft yellow glow. He pauses, scrutinising a volume of Victorian gothic stories, before it, too, get enveloped in the glow and joins the other books behind it.

He catches sight of Peggy, and offers an awkward smile- not the best at social interaction even back home when he wasn't the lone member of his species around. He raises a hoof in greeting. ]

Um. Hello! It's a really impressive library, right?

[mucked]

[ ...that's a horse. or a -- no, what, a unicorn? peggy frowns. eventually (sooner or later) her good manners find her again and she hides that frown behind a schooled expression. what's worse, the horse or the fact that there's a bunch of books floating behind it?

no, wait, the worse is yet to come: the horse talks. ]

-- Quite. [ she agrees, falling prey to only a minor stammer. ] I suppose it's hard to beat a collection that can draw its catalogue from multiple dimensions.

[ just, try not to stare. should be simple, right? ]

library

[hypoxic]

[If Peggy is researching scientific spaces, then she's very much in Fitz's favorite section. As it happens, Peggy's come up here to browse during Fitz's very private celebration of freedom. Caitlin's released him from the bondage of his walking aids, and he's come up to the library on his own to celebrate his ability to do the little things, like walk through a stack with books in his arms. He's got a terrible limp still, but he's doing it.

He just didn't expect to be doing it in front of Peggy Carter. He'll pause at the end of an aisle, peering at her.]

....Ma'am?

[There's really no reason for her to be anywhere near textbooks on the fundamentals of engineering. She must be lost.]

[mucked]

[ she spies him before he spies her. and for a minute or two she watches him and his limp -- wrestling with herself as to whether she's seeing progress or not. a spark of optimism errs on the side of progress. ]

-- Fitz. [ peggy greets him. and if she leaves off the 'agent' now and again then surely it's a symptom of good will and not one of disrespect.

she folds her list; she hides the titles. it's not that she's ashamed, but...but it's a little trickier to own her ignorance in front of him than it would be in front of a stranger. ]

You're looking well. [ half-polite, half-affection. ] Although also a bit overloaded. Can I help carry anything?

[ it's the sort of offer that's easily refused. ]

Diner

[geiger]

Long time no see.

[ Nora waves from across the room as she sees Peggy, stopping to pick up her food and a cup of coffee before taking a seat nearby - though not in the same booth, unsure if she'd be bothering her. ]

How are you doing?

[mucked]

Oh, you know. [ her smile is polite as she pushes away some of her work -- clearing a space so she can fold her arms on the table. ] Keeping busy. Staying alive. And kicking myself for not coming here sooner.

[ really, the fries are excellent. ]

Diner +1 nosy scientist

[bravejemma]

[Though Jemma had never been to the diner before she'd met Sharon there long ago, that wasn't the case now. It was kind of a cheesy sort of American place, but Jemma couldn't help but love it. Besides, their chips were awesome and the vanilla milkshake was to die for.

She was stopping in for such a treat, when she spotted Peggy in her booth, basket of chips in front of her and book in one hand. Once she'd gotten her shake, she approached the table, and greets her warmly.]

Peggy, hello. [Gosh she's so bold, ha!] What are you reading?

[mucked]

[ peggy finishes a shorthand scribble before setting aside her pen and -- oh! jemma simmons. despite a few trying elements of her day, she decides that this one is worth something approaching a genuine smile.

in fact, peggy gestures to the opposite bench in her booth as if the other agent should take a seat. ]

Coursework, I suppose. [ it's not a serious answer. peggy lets the book flop shut. ] I've been given something of a reading list to help me catch up on the more popular scientific developments back home.

Out & About

[luchnik]

[ the event has ended. to olivr queen, that means one thing and one thing only: time to get back to work preparing for the next one and whatever he'll be called to do in order to escape this island.

the suit he puts on isn't green, the color is far too associated with him here, that his choice of weapon hasn't changed is enough of a giveaway without advertising himself. instead, he uses the convenience of the closets to tailor a color suited for his mission. today's mission is reckon; he wants to inspect the perimeter, test some trick arrows, and find blind spots he can use for cover from the flyers and the robots, so he chooses a color that best blends in with the outer walls of the mansion. as an additional precaution, he adopts a mask in the style of the league of assassins, to better cover his face, and of course - his voice modifier, a bit of technology that is mercifully simple enough for him to put together on his own, once the closet provided him with base components.

under the cover of darkness, he swings on a grappling hook arrow when he spots the discharged laser beam, a beacon easily spotted in the dark from his vantage point.

unfortunately, on the move is when he's at his most visible as well. ]

[mucked]

[ a handful of days prior, peggy had won a shooting competition. and then -- in a follow up round -- she'd lost when goaded to shoot again, only with her off-hand. and that's what sees her practicing out at the firing range, lingering a bit too long so that suddenly dusk falls and she's left squinting at the targets down the lane.

one more red blast of light and she falls back, holstering her gun, and tries to talk herself into returning to the mansion. peggy isn't a terrible shot with her off hand but brute-forcing her practice won't help improve it.

so she turns her back on the sheltered range, pulling her wool coat tight around her neck as she navigates the well-beaten path back towards 'civilization.' it's just then, as she's looking up at the roofline, that she witnesses a dark shape appear to glide through the air -- the grappling hook's line near-invisible against the night. and at first she thinks she's witnessing one of tony's iron legion.

that alone makes her head toward the space where she'd seen the shape. she doesn't unholster her gun, not yet, but she's always aware of its presence and weight. unbeknownst to each other's intention, the two 'strangers' head towards one another. ]

peggy's room >>

[startingpoint]

[ If he's being honest with himself, this is a meeting that should have happened weeks ago. He's only just begun to repair things with Jane, but the status of their relationship shouldn't have precluded him from basic niceties, namely thanking Peggy for keeping an eye on Jane. The words he wants to say feel awkward as they rest in his throat, and he makes the slow walk to her room as he tests them. To thank someone for looking after his wife, as though she were in need of a babysitter. That's not, of course, what he means at all, but words can easily sound so different out in the air between two people than they ever did inside your own mind. Jane doesn't need to be taken care of by anyone, that's something he learned quickly about her. He knows little about Peggy, but he'd imagine she's learned the very same thing quite quickly.

What she does need - what she's always needed and starved for - is human connection. For much of her life, most genuine friendships, familial relationships, or any other connections were just power plays or temporary, or able to be severed quickly if Jane didn't bend to someone's whim. He knows she's been used her entire life, desperate to belong with people, and though their relationship has seen its share of upheaval, they'd finally made it; exactly where they were supposed to be: together. For a little while. Knowing all of this, the secret he'd kept was even more of a terrible betrayal, and one he's never had any excuses for, other than a misguided but genuine belief at the time that he was protecting her.

It was Peggy who'd overheard, intervening, getting Jane away from him when just looking at him was enough to make his own wife recoil in disgust. As hard as it was to watch her walk away from him like he was some sort of monster, he knew it was what he deserved, and more than that, he knew she'd be in good hands.

Jane might not have needed to be taken care of in the physical sense, but in every other way, she desperately needed someone, someone outside of Sarah and Patterson and anyone else who knew both of them. He can't help believing that Peggy kept her anchored, that he might have lost his wife in other, more terrible ways if not for her friend. So, at the very least, he owes Peggy his gratitude.

So when he comes to her door, he's not expecting a warm reception at all; in fact, he's bracing himself, especially because he can't imagine she'll be all that pleased with him just showing up at her door. But he wants to be direct about this, he doesn't want to just run into her around the mansion - likely to happen sooner rather than later - and try to pull her into a conversation then. No, this is something he needs to be frank and candid about, completely open, willing to hear any criticism that she might choose to dispense with. Whatever happens, he'll feel at peace if he can at least thank her. For just being there.

Jane's always needed people, connections, and she has a true and steadfast one in Peggy, he thinks, and that's all he's ever wanted for her. He wants other people to know her and love her because she's the best person he's ever known.

Taking a deep breath, he finally knocks on her door. Of course, there's no guarantee she's even home so this might all be for naught, but he'll come back if he has to. ]

[mucked]

[ i still don't like him, she'd told jane, and upon reflection it might not have been peggy's most graceful moment. but it stayed true -- having hardly met the man, it becomes laughably easy to paint him with a rather ominous brush. instead of his virtues and his strengths, all she can see (in her mind's eye) is the pain on jane's face. as much as peggy respects and even encourages jane's second crack at her marriage, she sees no profit in pretending to play nice with kurt.

so when she answers her door and finds him standing there? well! her expression creases into a frown. it's not terribly often that she receives guests and even rarer that they should arrive unannounced. it only takes her a fraction of a second to place his appearance: glimpsed once or twice across the crowd at ray and sarah's engagement party, then again at their wedding, and finally witnessed in distraction in kurt and jane's quarters after she'd busted her way inside. trespassing, really, on their relationship.

as trespasses go, she doesn't regret it for a moment.

peggy doesn't invite him inside. not yet. instead, she leans the shoulder of her crisp white blouse against the door frame and stands guard upon the threshold. arms crossed, but with a relatively soft posture. on the very knife's edge of casual. she eyes kurt. she takes his measure. fbi, jane had told her. and evidently damned good at it. there has always been a bit of interdepartmental chafing between the ssr and the fbi, back home, but that's got nothing to do with how her chin lifts and her gaze sweeps. ]

Mister Weller. [ calm and cool. and with only the briefest flicker of doubt, she wonders what jane might have said about her. peggy doesn't worry about her reputation, per se, but she's suddenly and acutely aware that the old covers and lies might not work here. best to proceed honestly, then. ] To what do I owe the pleasure?

[ she's got a fairly good guess but she asks all the same. ]

Diner - is it too late to tag into this???? No worries if so!

[spiritofgoodness]

[ When Snow walks into the diner, because it looks just like Granny's, she always expects to see her family, or Red and Granny. She never does, though, and so for brief seconds, she looks disappointed but then gets over it and finds her way to a table. Today she's in from practicing with her bow outside and slings her quiver over the chair beside the booth then props her bow up in the chair across from her. She unwraps her scarf from around her neck, shrugs her jacket off, then sits down and orders hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream before settling in and pulling out her device, scrolling through things she may have missed while outside with her hands occupied. ]

it's never too late!

[mucked]

[ you know, even here, it's not every day you see someone walk in with a bow and arrows on their person. peggy's attention raises only briefly at first -- with that telltale flicker that most people offer up whenever a stranger passes by. but, upon reflection, she looks up a second time. her book slips shut; she doesn't hide a rather open stare as the woman takes a seat nearby.

peggy leans an arm along the back of the booth's bench, ducking her chin until she catch's snow's eyes. ]

That's quite the piece you've got. [ remarkable, really. ] Isn't it a bit unwieldy?

[ maybe she just needs a distraction from her 'homework.' ]

Late February

[outstandingbalance]

[Natasha gives it a little while before she looks for Peggy. It would be an overstatement to say that she was actively avoiding her before that—but after the event with the dinosaurs exposed her childhood self, she hasn't been actively seeking out anyone. She kept to herself, shying back from run ins that might have proven awkward until she had more time to process for herself first.

In some ways, she's grateful for the luxury of mental preparations. Small favors.

But when figures she's given herself enough time, there she is. Keeping an eye out. Ready to take advantage of an opportunity when it comes up. In the end, she catches Peggy on the way to the firing range, falling into step beside her as though they just happen to be heading the same direction.]

Hey. Been a while, hasn't it?

[She figures Peggy figured out Natalia and Natasha are one in the same, but only one way to find out.]

[mucked]

[ although there's something still well-buttoned and well-ironed to her appearance, peggy isn't quite in her usual prim'n'proper best. instead of heels, it's boots. instead of a tailored skirt, it's trousers. and although she's often armed more discreetly, today her holster is boldly on her hip. a bit of leather caps off the handle, hiding the pistol below.

she also looks as though she's dressed to go outside. warmth and comfort aren't absent from her outfit. even so, she's hardly in a rush. and when natasha finds her and falls into step, there's nothing unwelcome about her company. her stride slows. in fact, there's a near-friendliness in her expression as she addresses the other woman: ]

Something like that. [ this is better, she thinks. peggy finds the adult far more approachable than the child. but that's nothing unique to natasha; she'd fumbled a great many conversations with a great many younger versions, during that weekend. ] It's good to see you're yourself once more. [ a beat. ] Well. The more current version of yourself, at least, no matter how relative that standard might be in a place like this.

[ she doesn't even bother to chew her way around it, then. best to just tackle the assumption head-on. ]