[ he's right; she dispatches with her confession quickly, and with little more than a look on her face that suggests so -- but not without a huff of impatience. a new kind, wholly divorced from the carnival snacks. one which deepens quick and sharp when he goes so far as to suggest spying on her own great-niece.

-- oh, she comes damned close to saying something.

but peggy carter isn't alone in her hypocrisy. although she never requires his sympathy, this sudden dearth of it strikes her as a touch too mercenary. what's raw and instinctive in her -- the part of her that might choose kin over kith when given a push -- wants to ask him whether he'd dare be so cavalier if it was his blood-relative suddenly taking centre stage in their discussion.

what stops her, in the end, is the sharp understanding that some blows truly are too low. and there are some topics she approaches rarely, if ever, because they are left in a kind of quarantine. his and hers. ]

Good God, man. You could at least pretend to be concerned for another person before you gleefully start sorting advantages from disadvantages.

[ her reprisal is sharp and uncharacteristic and its engine is built entirely upon peggy's natural inclination to protect certain people. it rears its bestial head whenever she's playing favourites. ]