[ a quiet breath, not unlike laughter, puffs past her mouth. perhaps she doesn't need to be told that conversation went poorly in order to guess so. not because of some deficiency in either of their characters, rip's or sharon's, but because she can sense the ways in which she herself grates against both. doesn't matter; she won't be taking any part of that incompatibility to task. nine-tenths of the time, the antagonism of others isn't under her purview. she spend enough energy maintaining her own relationships. why should she concern herself with everyone else's?
so it's perfect, then to turn her cheek and watch rip hunter pivot to what's theirs instead. he says those of us but what he really means is him, she suspects, and the words come dangerously close to sounding like what he'd said to help her overcome her shadow. and maybe she won't ever be able to quiet the restlessness in the pit of her heart reminding her, again and again, that hers is a legacy she's far from matching. and maybe, before wonderland, peggy barely knew what it was to feel as though being who she is mightn't be enough. but those are her problems, her hair-shirts, and she shrinks from the idea of relying on him to intervene when they spill out in clumsy angry displays like today's.
especially -- especially -- when she doesn't doubt for a moment that he's still saying what happens to be true. and if she were half as ballsy, she would tell him the impression was mutual. instead, however, she sinks back against the post she'd first chosen for her vantage point. and if there's life in her cheeks then it's not only due to her temper but also his words. warm and intimate as they are. and him near enough (for a moment) that she could have kissed him. if she felt like it -- although, admittedly, that's not quite the fire she's feeling in her belly just now.
she nods toward the box once more. for peggy, evasion is just another means of admitting he's right to say what he says. ]
But back to brass tacks. [ please. ] I asked you out here, today, for one good reason. You thought maybe a voluntary memory might be more valuable, perhaps, than a stolen one. I'm wondering whether it being voluntary somehow makes up for how minor the cull seems to be. Two words. Latin. Obscure and functionally useless.
[ so, yes, she absolutely has been near enough to that box to read all the gritty details on display. he was right about that too; well done, rip hunter. ]
no subject
so it's perfect, then to turn her cheek and watch rip hunter pivot to what's theirs instead. he says those of us but what he really means is him, she suspects, and the words come dangerously close to sounding like what he'd said to help her overcome her shadow. and maybe she won't ever be able to quiet the restlessness in the pit of her heart reminding her, again and again, that hers is a legacy she's far from matching. and maybe, before wonderland, peggy barely knew what it was to feel as though being who she is mightn't be enough. but those are her problems, her hair-shirts, and she shrinks from the idea of relying on him to intervene when they spill out in clumsy angry displays like today's.
especially -- especially -- when she doesn't doubt for a moment that he's still saying what happens to be true. and if she were half as ballsy, she would tell him the impression was mutual. instead, however, she sinks back against the post she'd first chosen for her vantage point. and if there's life in her cheeks then it's not only due to her temper but also his words. warm and intimate as they are. and him near enough (for a moment) that she could have kissed him. if she felt like it -- although, admittedly, that's not quite the fire she's feeling in her belly just now.
she nods toward the box once more. for peggy, evasion is just another means of admitting he's right to say what he says. ]
But back to brass tacks. [ please. ] I asked you out here, today, for one good reason. You thought maybe a voluntary memory might be more valuable, perhaps, than a stolen one. I'm wondering whether it being voluntary somehow makes up for how minor the cull seems to be. Two words. Latin. Obscure and functionally useless.
[ so, yes, she absolutely has been near enough to that box to read all the gritty details on display. he was right about that too; well done, rip hunter. ]