ᴛᴇxᴛ / ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ( open )

[shrinkage]

( ACTION | from the pool up to floor 6 )

[ the first thing ray wants after he drags himself out of the pool is to follow his instincts toward home. his feet leave wet sloshes in a path behind him up to the sixth floor, dressed in a drenched set of coveralls, work boots, and a STAR labs cap with the brim in the back.

the people he passes moving through the halls in a haze are fuzzy but familiar. he smiles back and says hello-- and even gets names right now and again. but he presses on, excusing himself after brief exchanges.

he lets himself into room 004. lets it feel like he's where he belongs. lets the water soak the carpet as he stands hesitantly in the doorway, waiting for a weller welcome in one of two flavors. ]

...Hello? Hon? Kurt?

( TEXT | anonymous )

could wonderland actually be our real homes?

( ooc | feel free to run into him at a place of your choosing in the mansion, if you'd like )

Comments

[shrinkage]

Sweet. Meet you at the diner for lunch tomorrow, then!

[ an actual double thumbs-up to that, even. his trademark sunny smile takes its rightful place on ray's mug, and he turns to start squish-squish-squishing on his way home.

then he can ask sarah if he makes rigid appointments for stuff all the time. yikes. ]

[mucked]

[ -- and here's the truest tragedy of this entirely fubar'd situation: peggy carter has never ever been to the diner. how is this possible? we may never know. except that she's been a stickler for trying not to settle in and deviating too far away from the obvious default haunts had seemed safer.

but the next day, right around lunchtime, peggy makes good on her appointment. there's a part of her that thinks ray mightn't even show up -- he'd seemed a different kind of flighty when she'd met him, dripping wet, in the hall.

still, peggy strides into the diner all the same. the worst case scenario still leaves her eating a plate of food -- so it can't be all that bad. but she takes a booth about mid-distance down the wall and folds her coat over the back of the bench. she glances around as she takes a seat and suddenly -- viscerally -- regrets not coming here sooner. it reminds her of the l&l. ]

[shrinkage]

[ where normally ray might burst in with the energy of six golden retrievers on meth underfoot, this man enters with zero fanfare at all. not stealthy. not with the purpose of gaining an advantage on an unsuspecting target, no. with shoulders that hunch inward, and that cap pulled over his hairline?

he's simply obviously used to taking light steps. sticking to the sidelines. his wonderland wardrobe was preppy and simple but full of bold jewel tones and soft fabrics. now he wears neutral colors, utilitarian and meant to be disposable. the clothing a man with more practical concerns and little ego might choose.

he lopes, still-- slower and with far more care for his surroundings than usual. his smile is warm, but distant. he's used to having only acquaintances. lunch with who he now remembers he considers family has lifted his spirits. it's just not quite enough to break his instincts yet. ]

Hey, Peggy. [ he folds into the opposite booth with particular care for not taking up too much space. ] I didn't keep you waiting, did I?

[mucked]

[ his arrival does not go unobserved. peggy had opted to sit facing the entrance for exactly this reason: so she might read his bearing, from punctuation to marginalia. she looks for the lines and angles of projected confidence that she's come to expect from palmer -- those obtrusive parts that always reminded her, in a sideways fashion, of howard stark and all of his public masks.

but she finds none of it. huh. she'd be impressed, really, if she thought he was dissembling on purpose. calmly, peg reaches for a paper napkin from a stainless steel dispenser -- pretending to blot the corner of her lipstick when, in fact, she's only trying to line up the metal so that it might better reflect the man. it's a silly little precaution in case he is ray's mirror. ]

If you did, I didn't mind it. [ it's a moderately playful answer. it speaks to familiarity and friendliness. peggy's been getting better at that, lately -- she accepts more and rejects less. ] -- How are you doing?

[ a little too forceful; a little too curious. she sits with her elbows on the table. ]

[shrinkage]

Uhh, I'm still figuring that out, actually.

[ he smiles gratefully for her kindness, but his eyes eventually drop to the menu. ray's always been a fidgeter, but in more controlled bursts-- learned adjustments to make his behavior a little easier to tolerate.

it's unbridled now, his knee bouncing under the table in some rhythm only he can hear. after a few clacks of his teeth, he glances back up at peggy as if he'd forgotten his own niceties, and a glimpse of an ex-businessman appears: ]

Oh, hey-- what about you? Things OK around here this week?

[mucked]

[ it's unnerving. or maybe what peggy tries to pass off as being unnerved is really (in the end) just an aching concern for a friend. but it's easier to pretend her wariness is pragmatic, practical, professional. even now, she'd rather not to admit to a feeling tender.

and yet that's exactly what she does in the moments following his question. first, she reaches for her mug (tea; black; unpolluted) and weighs her way forward before she speaks. ]

Oh, I'm perfectly alright. [ true enough. things have been going oddly well for agent carter. except-- ] But Jane's still staying with me.

[ she doesn't expand on that comment. instead she waits to see if he remembers. if he knows. ]

[shrinkage]

[ he's already reconnected with jane's name, but its attachment to peggy brings up a little bubble of that home feeling again. of the struggle to connect, and how good it had felt to see his friends do just that.

ray nods, slow and solemn. he remembers how good peggy is at the deflection thing, now. ]

Oh, right. How is she? I didn't get a chance to ask Sarah last night.

[mucked]

[ she watches for the recognition. like hitting a kneecap with a hammer and waiting for the reflex -- despite the dour topic, she must be pleased with something. after all, she doesn't frown any deeper. ]

She's surviving. [ it's a charitable description. ] It goes without saying that there will be no tidy solution to the situation. [ ... ] But Sarah must be relieved to have you back.

[ deflection, indeed. ]

[shrinkage]

It's kind of all you can do, you know? Survive.

[ and then he nods, unsure how to navigate the mix of feelings the conversation brings up. ]

It's always hard, even though we know it'll happen. Eventually one of us is gonna be gone for real. I've done this a couple other times and it doesn't get easier.

[ when it comes time to order, ray seems to have fully become a weller. and lost his concern about consuming gluten. double bacon cheeseburger. extra fries. chocolate cherry milkshake. no water, no salad, no guilty looks. just ravenous hunger, apparently. ]

But that's just Wonderland, you know? All you can do is all you can do sometimes.

[mucked]

[ she very quickly decides she doesn't like it. this middle-of-the-road defeatism and presented like such a counterpoint to the man she knows. so peggy still frowns while she sets her menu aside -- either because she's already decided or (as it turns out) because she's actually perfectly alright to say i'll have what he's having.

but when they're alone again: ]

Surely you don't really believe that.

[ or maybe he does. maybe he has all along. and that's what's bothering her, in the end. ]

[shrinkage]

Huh?

[ the leg bounce has turned into him folding a napkin together and then tearing it into tiny squares. methodical, but messy. ]

Well, I just mean stuff happens. Sometimes there's nothing you can do about it, there's no shame in that.

[mucked]

I can't say I disagree. [ but.

she thinks back to the man's wedding. his optimism, his excitement, his unbridled enthusiasm for striding ever-forward. and she remembers mister hunter's poignant speech made before the exchanging of the vows and the kiss. afterwards, with a drink in hand, rip tipped her off that ray himself had been a significant source of inspiration for the speech's built-in hope.

peggy's attention drops -- she watches as ray destroys a napkin. somehow she just about manages not to scold him. ]

Some things can't be walked back. And, sometimes, we don't get second chances. Let alone third or fourth ones. Although I think Wonderland likes to make us believe that chances come in abundance.

[shrinkage]

Oh yeah. That's true.

[ sounds really smart and self-possessed, too. it's the sort of sentiment that scratches ray himself sometimes, in the back of his mind. the moments that little voice that tells him something's off is loudest.

he usually just turns up the tv when that happens. sometimes he gives in. sometimes. ]

But also I've been here for almost two years. I talked to someone yesterday who's been here for six. At some point you gotta put your energy somewhere else.

[ like your k/d ratio. uh oh this is getting too real abort abort ]

[mucked]

I'm not convinced I'll ever find myself in the camp of those who preach about making the best of being here.

[ a few weeks ago, someone quoted her a relevant bit of othello. and she could repeat it, now, but she spares ray that particular technique. trying to catch out the differences and the shortcomings in ray as he is now is less satisfying, she realizes, than first believed.

it only serves to make her sad. ]

But I suppose stranger things have happened. Once upon a time, I didn't believe they'd ever put a man on the moon.

[ peggy can't help herself. she leans forward and begins brushing the torn napkin pieces into a pile. ]

-- How long were you back in your home world, Ray?

[shrinkage]

[ he doesn't apologize for his mess, and in fact doesn't seem to notice her tidying? fidgeters, man.

but he looks chagrined, suddenly. like he's been caught stealing expensive equipment from his employer and totally was gonna return it. ]

I don't actually know. It's weird.

[ he leans forward for a second on instinct, but quickly rethinks it and shifts back. after a moment of assessment -- yeah, this is better -- he returns to drop his very (not at all) secret bomb. ]

We think Wonderland whammied me, maybe. I don't know if you've noticed cause I've been trying to play it cool? But I'm kinda different than before.

[mucked]

[ it'd be endearing if it wasn't so worrying. yet another of those 'take it to the grave' opinions. peggy doesn't have anywhere to dump his napkin bits so she does the next best thing and folds them up inside another less destroyed napkin.

all while watching his physical indecision telegraph every length and measure of the psychological. peggy takes her opportunity to lean in, just an inch, and whisper: ]

Well done. I had no idea.

[ -- but she lays the sarcasm on a bit thick. ]

i laughed and scared my dog awake bravo

[shrinkage]

[ he slumps a little, relieved to have gotten it off his chest. the sarcasm flies right over his head. so-- at least some things remain. ]

Oh, good. It's a lot of work! I'm like-- [ flappy hands ] --such a brain! It's rough.

get up, pup! no time for naps!

[mucked]

[ what on earth has happened to him. peggy very nearly becomes the next person to start telegraphing emotions when she taps the edge of her nails thoughtlessly against the table's surface. but she sits straight again after her next inhale and fixes him with a hard and pinning look. ]

In case Wonderland is to blame -- can you do me a favour, Ray, and look at your reflection in the napkin box?

[ why not? a mirror would avoid it -- but she half-believes this fellow will simply do as she says because she's said it. it'll be good to set that concern of hers to rest before the burgers come. ]

[shrinkage]

[ the goof doesn't disappear, but ray turns suddenly very serious. it feels like his heart wants to escape through his throat, and he sits up straighter. desperate, and scared, he refuses. ]

I'm not a mirror.

[ because to ray, there are few memories in wonderland quite so strong as that of mirrors. especially his mirror. ]

[mucked]

[ there's something to be said for seeing a bit of backbone. she'd be relieved, if it wasn't exactly the sort of defiance that also worries her. ]

So prove it.

[ she picks up the napkin box and tilts its chrome-y side in his direction. maybe it betrays a basic lack of trust but -- more than most people in wonderland, ray knows the broad strokes of her work back home. trust is a luxury she can rarely afford. ]

And then we can get on to sorting you out. There's nothing I'd like more than to help you with that.

[shrinkage]

[ fear, panic-- instinct.

ray knocks it away. ]

No. I don't need sorting.

[ pounding now, his bunny heart is freaking him out. he doesn't actually know he isn't a mirror, does he? ray stands, spooked by the thought and moves out from his bench. ]

I'm not my mirror. I have nothing to prove.

[mucked]

Ray. Doctor Palmer.

[ -- her tone doesn't change. and although she sorely wants to, she doesn't stand up. in her heart of hearts she doesn't believe he's his mirror, but given what happened over the holidays... ]

Every one of us has something to prove. Every day.

[ because she's started to hear stories about her mirror and it's ignited a paranoia in her whenever she comes across aberrant behaviour in others.

gently, without taking her eyes off of him, she tidies the napkin box too. stands it back upright. ]

If you'd rather not look at your reflection -- you could answer a question instead. All I want is a bit of reassurance. There's no sin in that.

[ but there's no sin in his flight, either. and it's why she won't stop him from leaving if he can't stomach her methods. few good people can. ]

[shrinkage]

No. Not me. Not a doctor of anything.

[ if there's one thing that marks this janitor apart from the genius, it's his desire to survive. moreover, his willingness to pursue that desire above other things. he's a coward, but he's a coward who doesn't have to live a life of crime to get by, and doesn't feel the pressure of a scientist at star labs.

ray rejects that other instinct; to be worthy of love. his recent memory paints him as a man of service, yes. but he thinks that farther back, he maybe have simply been one of subservience. he'll spit on the title if it means keeping his will, thanks. ]

If there's anything I know in this place, it's my mirror. And I'm not that.

[ the fear that he might not be real even by wonderland's standards clouds his thoughts, colors his behavior. no flapping hands, no jerky gestures as he just takes one more moment to blink in panic before fleeing out the door. ]

[mucked]

[ pity.

peggy watches him run. not with regret, exactly -- she doesn't feel much more than a lick of guilt for proceeding as she had. but something pangs under her ribs. if she had better control over her sentimentality, she might have been able to articulate to him that she was only ever hoping for the same thing.

or she could have been a spy about all of it. but, truth is, she likes ray too much to trick him. and when she drops the professional act she can be abrasive. it doesn't surprise her that her real demeanor isn't always welcome.

he's gone but peggy doesn't leave. their food arrives and, by god, she does her level best to finish as much of it as she can. both shakes, most of the fries, but she doesn't even manage to conquer one whole burger. the whole time she thinks she ought to eventually reach out and apologize -- she opened her mouth knowing how skittish ray was about discussing mirrors -- but she knows herself better than to think she ever will. 'sorry' is so often excluded from her vocabulary. ]