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[revokes]

[ this video is going to start in a disorienting way. the device is moving and rather rapidly, at that. ]

so three things.

[ and then, a loud thud as iron man lands. the mask is pulled back and beneath is - well. you're all used to tony stark by now, right? ]

firstly, these guys -

[ he looks back - the robots of the iron legion are flying behind him and out of view ]

are still off limits. if you see them flying, don't engage. they won't stop. they have one route of patrol and then they're come back to the mansion. I've seen some of you trying to talk to them. it's pointless. I haven't programmed them to answer back.

[ seems useless, really. robots having lengthy conversations. ]

secondly, the war thing. big fun. I love the whole preparation thing we have going on. if you need anything, shout. I'll see what I can do.

[ oh and - ]

thirdly. I'm running a little behind schedule but despite the weird paradox of time and space, my aunt had her birthday this week and she really would love a few hearty 'happy birthdays', presents, songs. she loves songs. adores music. her name's peggy carter, you know, about this height, dark hair, British accent.

[ he's still moving as he talks ]

cake and soda in the kitchen, guys. no alcohol though, she's only seventeen. gotta keep to the rule book.

[ and then to add insult to injury, you might catch a quick glimpse of the kitchen and the stuff on the counter before he logs off. ]

Comments

[mucked]

[ peggy's next sip -- taken soon after she reclaims the flask, her fingers sliding between his as she coaxes the vessel free -- is just as deliberate but certainly not as small. in his reply, rip is almost endearingly literal as he rightly suggest the answer hinges on what (exactly) fitz had been expecting.

it's just...! the fellow had done such a bang up job during the 'operation' itself that peggy had perhaps let her pride run away with her. the subsequent debriefing had turned into her trying to push her luck, push the envelope, push the boat out -- and perhaps she was spurned quite rightly for it.

her eyes slip off rip once more. not because she's ashamed, but because she's taking careful note of who's nearby and because she's waiting for someone to pass a few steps further before she continues talking. but as she waits, her brow stays furrowed. ]

The subject of his past work cropped up. [ a pointed look; there's no need to say the word portal. ] I might have called his objectivity into question.

[directed]

[Privacy isn't exactly a thing much afforded to the woman of the hour, and Rip expects that the longer they try to converse, the more they'll have to deal with interruptions from well-wishers. But for now it's only a person passing by, content to indulge in cake rather than societal niceties, and after a measure dictated by their footsteps passes, Rip gets his answer.

It's one hell of a confession, all told. Peggy's apparently gone and done just the thing she swore Rip away from when it came to Fitz, right down to the subject matter. For a moment Rip's left to wonder just which of the two had made the worse miscalculation in the end: Fitz for whatever pedestal he might have seen Peggy tumble from, or Peggy for thinking the moment right to broach a matter that in hindsight rather clearly remains volatile.]

Well. It will force him to think about it, at the very least. [Even if Peggy's gone and pushed too far--a conclusion Rip suspects they can consider forgone at this point--she'll have planted a seed in her wake. Watered with Fitz's very own tears, hopefully in fertile soil that would be suited for the particular crop they're after.] Though I would recommend a gentler touch the next time you two meet. Perhaps even an apology, should you care to muster one.

[Not because Peggy is wrong, per se. In truth Rip's thought Fitz's objectivity towards the matter has been skewed ever since the incident. Rather, regret for how things ended wouldn't be misplaced, or even untrue, he suspects. Mend the bridge, then attempt a softer touch to try and sway the man.

The cause hasn't lost all hope just yet.]

[mucked]

[ oh, hers is a look.

it's cloudy and it's fueled, in no small part, by the budding frustration at the party itself. there's something ghoulish in every bit of iron man decor -- perhaps not in and of itself, but peggy doesn't like being reminded of how her nephew so obviously prefers to be the hero above and beyond being the man. and although that sentiment has got little to do with what happened with fitz, it leaves her just unsettled enough to defy what should be a reasonable suggestion.

an apology! not bloody likely. ]

There's nothing to apologize for, [ she retorts. ] Except, perhaps, believing him to be made of sterner stuff.

[ it's not fair and she knows it. there are times when peggy's expectations are exceedingly high -- it's a miracle anyone manages to meet them, even in part. but, right now, she neglects to remember that agent fitz ticks most boxes. right now, she's got tunnel-vision for the one box he failed to tick. ]

You realize this means I was right. [ watch her spin defeat into a victory. ] He's not ready.

[directed]

[She need not expand on that look for Rip to know immediately that an apology is off the table. Though her thoughts regarding Tony remain unknown to him, Rip's got enough of the story to at least understand the bits where Fitz is concerned—and Peggy's pride only confirms what he's assumed.]

Yes well, sometimes it doesn't matter how right you are. An apology is still called for all the same. [Take it from a man forced to choke down that bitter pill more than once during his tenure with the Legends; Rip has been right in principle, on technicality, based in logic and the grander scheme—and yet somehow managed to be wrong all at the same time. A paradox at its finest, one that Peggy should now face.

Assuming she doesn't decide to be stubborn about it, naturally.]

Not to mention that you already confessed to your error—thinking him made of sterner stuff. [After all, Rip knows well just how Peggy can be when she wants something. There's a harshness to her demands, an impatience that creeps up when she values someone. He's seen it firsthand, on that first Wednesday she decided to cut Rip out completely and expected him to accept her silence as finality.] Any setbacks are arguably as much due to your mucked approach based on that as they are Fitz's fragile ego.

[And happy birthday to you too, Miss Carter.]

[mucked]

[ well. rip's rebuke certainly isn't sparing. and, to that end, she reclaims his flask from him once more -- seeking out a fortifying mouthful just to keep her from saying something she'll regret once they leave each others' company. it would be so easy to reprimand him in turn, to tell him that their relationship (nor monday's renewing thereof) does not leave him entitled to address her flaws so frankly.

and she would be right. but only because the frank and forthright delivery of verdicts pertaining to any and all failures, both his and hers, is something that predates them sleeping together. if anything, this moment feels reminiscent of the before-times: when inclining the head and quietly offering an honest opinion was in itself a gesture of knee-weakening intimacy.

so she suffers it, albeit with a scowl. ]

He's no kitten. [ she shifts, uncomfortable, where she stands. the choice of words makes it obvious (to her) that she's projecting ever so slightly. ] While compassion and care might have its place in his line of work, fragility certainly doesn't. And there damn well are differences between them.

[ which is to say she won't let herself excuse the more brittle bits of fitz's behaviour simply because she's also seen the more robust ones. another mouthful of whisky, then, before she's delivering the flask back into rip's hands. peggy leans beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder thanks to her heels, and continues the conversation in a rushed whisper. as questions go, this one isn't kindly asked given everything rip has survived and endured of late. which means she must only be asking it because she feels she needs the answer. ]

What were you looking for when you picked your crew?

[ ah, so there's the rub: she's feeling herself swallowed up by the gulf between agent carter and director carter. she'd only just proven herself as the former; the latter feels like it's just beyond her reach. and yet she knows that if she's ever going to put a dazzlingly clever resource like fitz to his best work, she'll need to do better than simply pointing him like a gun at a problem.

and yet. ]

[directed]

[He can't say he's surprised to find himself once more relieved of the flask, and Rip crosses his arms, watchful and waiting while Peggy takes her fill of its contents. She could attempt to make her arguments, lay out what Rip is and isn't entitled to, and indeed, be met with the very same counter she pieces together for herself in the silence. They would both agree that it's got nothing to do with their relationship, and Rip would wind up standing on higher ground for it. After all, Peggy had been the one at the start to state she didn't want a deepening of intimacy to interfere with their work.

And Monday would have arguably have been a sign of just that, had his response been anything but what it was.

So instead of traveling a course she cannot win, Peggy shifts, metaphorically and literally both. He's got the flask back after she digs her heels in a touch deeper, a move aptly timed; Rip's just stolen another sip for himself when Peggy veers, onto a topic not entirely unrelated, but far enough that for a moment Rip has to wonder if she's not trying to change the subject entirely.

He studies her for a long moment while he considers how he'll answer. But losing battles doesn't mean giving up the war; after a beat (punctuated by another drink), he inclines his head.]

A variety of individuals with skills I thought would be necessary to take stop Vandal Savage who were in and of themselves unimportant to the timeline and thus wouldn't cause irreparable damage to history should they die on the mission.

[...Well. She asked, hadn't she? And while it's not an answer Rip can exactly call himself proud of now, it's entirely the truth. He'd not been looking to create Legends, but rather to perform a singe, surgical strike, one he wasn't able to accomplish on his own. If she's looking to him to bridge the gap between "agent" and "director", Peggy's faith is arguably ill-placed. Rip would be the example of a structure not suitable for crossing, one that had somehow come together in spite of him rather than because, and that lesson he had learned well before the last year unfolded.

He frowns this time when he takes another drink; already he can feel the flask growing rather light.]

[mucked]

[ she weathers his studying look. rather than rush him into his answer, rather than fill the quiet, peggy seizes the opportunity to lock her eyes with his. it takes only a dip of her chin and a sincere glance to catch his look and keep it there -- something she doesn't always achieve with him, depending on his mood. but just now it's not part of some more intricate power-play.

just now, she's hanging on his every word. and -- heavens -- they aren't pretty ones. not that peggy was expecting a pretty answer on this particular line of questioning. after all, she knows (one side of) the story: rip hunter, then captain, kidnapped his crew. like the navy in some of its darker hours, he pressganged them into service.

but that detail is one thing; the clarification that rip now provides is quite another. the inevitable takeaway is a word that no one is saying. expendable. and peggy wonders (just briefly) how on earth any one person could ever be unimportant to any timeline. the thought runs against her grain but -- but neither of them are here to argue over esoterica. ]

And I imagine you didn't tell them so. Not at first.

[ she doesn't ask. she can't waste energy being surprised by rip's description of his own hiring practices -- as subtle as the man can be, she's got an ear for his more earnest moments. this is undoubtedly one of them and it harmonizes with what else she knows about him. pragmatic, hypermetropic, and trained with diligence to overlook what's personal. something peg won't do, really, when she stays near and pays sharp attention to how his mouth turns and when he drinks and the way he'd leaned his head just to give her his answer.

it's not guilt she sees. but it's not pure conviction either. gently (glad to have something to focus out outside of her own birthday celebration) she confiscates the flask for good. the last few mouthfuls will he hers. her right, she decides, as guest of honour. ]

[directed]

Naturally not.

[I needed your help; you all barely said yes as it was. So much time since--years now--and Rip can still recall the words as if he'd only just spoken them. Surrounded by a group of individuals far more than a team, Rip forced to confess the truth of his lies about all of it. They had looked at him with more anger than Peggy holds, but that underlying dismay? Oh, that had been there. To learn they were not legends but instead forgotten to history; those who were destined to live and die and not make a damn bit of difference to the way time flowed.

She doesn't ask, but she also does. As surely as she relieves him of his flask and the final dregs within, Peggy asks Rip to continue on, to confess his own sins so much as she'd done her own. Sliding his hands into his pockets, Rip heaves out a sigh; the argument might be made that he only does so because it's her birthday (or the celebration there of), but it would be a cheap prop to his ego rather than anything genuine.]

I told them they were known as legends in my time--and yes, that is where the eventual team name came from. [Rip's dramatic wording, their defiance of everything he laid out for them; it's as much a mockery as a label of pride, and Rip thinks there would be no more perfect thing for the group to call themselves.] Ideally I expected to find Savage and act with a single, surgical strike. The actual results were anything but, and when the Time Masters sent one of their bounty hunters after me, I was forced to confess to everything.

[Not only the lies he'd told, but the ones he hadn't. It had been Ray Palmer himself to first voice the thought that Rip wasn't the altruistic sort--something time had only proven more and more right.]

And they all wound up agreeing to stay on anyway. I was rather shocked by it, to be honest.

[mucked]

Let's get this straight, shall we? You took a band of would-be heroes, [ she sharpens her look after the word because she remembers how he'd once upon a time refused to affix it to this particular team but (in this instance) peggy feels the use is apt, ] people who wanted nothing more than to make an impact, only to further embolden that urge through the rather devious promise of attaining some legendary status?

[ the drink is getting to her. because she laughs, full and from the belly, even as she holds up a hand as though to stave off any confirmation, curses, or corrections until she's well and truly done. ]

And then you were shocked when that same group agreed to stick 'round and do the right thing regardless?

[ it's as easy as breathing, this. describing any assault or tactic undertaken against vandal savage as the right thing. she isn't the one with a professional aversion to taking a dreadful despot out of the timeline. she has never been bound by the same ethics, strictures, or philosophies.

she delivers unto him his emptied flask. ] And all this time I've been mistaking you someone clever. Perceptive, even.

[ the calculus of behaviour seems obvious to her: there are people who are meant to fight -- bruised egos and indignation won't stop them from doing what's decent. ]

[directed]

[Well! Some would consider the sheer amusement that Peggy now displays to be a victory; this is meant to be a celebration in her honor, after all, the sheer amount of Iron Man paraphernalia surrounding them non-withstanding. Yet Rip frowns as Peggy offers up her neat little summary, complete with assessment of his failure to understand what the outcome would surely be, and topped off with a laugh besides!]

They were not all would-be heroes, for the record. Mr. Snart and Mr. Rory made a point of saying they were anything but.

[Oh, but it is a weak protest, somehow made all the moreso as Rip tucks away the flask he'd be quite happy to take a drink from were it not already empty. Still! He's made his stance, and he continues onward with it, stubborn to the end.] And we'd all nearly gotten killed by that bounty hunter besides.

[Chronos: Mick Rory from the future, as it would turn out, which explained how he'd been able to find them with such accuracy.]

But the point is, Miss Carter, once I owned up to my mistakes I wound up with the results I wanted. [Never mind that she'd been the one to raise the question; now seems a perfect time to turn the topic back around, to once more admonish her handling of Fitz.] You'd be well-advised to do the same. As you said, Fitz is a would-be hero. That desire to help foster an end to our tenure in this place no doubt still lurks beneath the surface--and you're still likely the best one to draw it out.

[...After this touch of tipsiness has passed, for the record.]

[mucked]

[ were it anyone else, she might have felt a stab of regret to see the target of her taunting start to frown. but there has always been a higher threshold for jabs between the pair of them. peggy isn't cold-hearted but nor is she inclined to waste any of her own emotional energy on wondering whether her laughter might have somehow hurt him. he's a grown man, a sturdy creature, tough. and she has faith that he can hear the implicit praise paid beneath the teasing. she thinks of him as clever; she thinks of him as observant; she thinks of him as having a talent for piecing people together into a team. if she questions anything then it's in his ability to carry that same faith in himself. he brought the legends together to do a damn good job -- he didn't pick them for nothing. nor even, she supposes, merely because of their (un)importance to this or that timeline. doubting that they would stand by him is the same as doubting himself.

and peggy carter will never handle that sort of self-doubt with kid gloves. but beyond that! she knows better than to pivot to kindness when, missing barely a beat, rip stays true to form and follows his conviction to the end of his argument. he recontextualizes the whole thing as a slap on her wrist, a reminder that humility can be rewarded, and a second stab at telling her she ought to apologize to fitz.

instead of outright disagreeing with him (a sure sign that she's coming 'round to his argument) she decides to be equally: ]

Fitz is considerably more than a would-be hero, I hope you realize. [ he and the rest of the team around him might be the one good remaining piece of her legacy. a shield that's better than the one she founded. ] Him and the rest of the agents who stuck with SHIELD after it toppled.