anon text | action

[directed]

[Wednesday sees Rip—on a boat! A boat and a bar, to be precise. Anyone is free to find him there. But even if they don’t, they might still speak to him. Only they won’t necessarily know it’s him, as he sets up his text to be anonymous:]

Now that our happy little “war” has come and gone, let’s move on to other things, shall we? I bake things. Cakes, specifically. With preparations no longer taking up so much of everyone’s time, I’ve got hours to fill. Thus, an opportunity for you, the random citizen of Wonderland.

If you would like something made especially for you, let me know. I’ve ample practice in both cooking and decoration, and I’m rather good at it should I say so myself. The one catch is that I’d prefer not to make my identity public. Personal reasons, you all understand. Or you don’t, but that won’t change my mind.

Now then. Ask away as you will.

[Spoilers, he was drunk at the time of this posting.

More spoilers? He’s going to be drunk on Thursday too. But since the bar on the boat closes eventually, Rip does end up back at the mansion. There may even be food involved at some point, should anyone want to find a potentially water-logged British man making demands of the cabinets in the kitchen--though not for nachos. Oh no. His once go-to drinking snack has been forever associated with someone else, and he’s trying not to feel at the moment, thank you.

There’s also the fifth floor bar, where Rip heads with a bit of trepidation. He’s a touch more somber there; more watchful than he cares to admit of the entrance, and those who pass by it. It’s foolish, really. They’ve already had their talk. Why would he expect to catch glimpse of Steve Rogers on the fifth floor now?

Why would he be there still. So many hours—a whole night later.

It’s late in the evening before he thinks better of it, finally, and returns to his room for the night. Late before he drops down onto his bed to stare up at the ceiling, dizzy with drink, and wait for exhaustion or alcohol or whatever other forces remain at play to let him drift into unconsciousness.

He doesn’t expect anyone will come calling.]

[[ooc: So Rip has two open posts! For anything on the boat please go here, anything after that can go in this one. I’m also open to have him found elsewhere should anyone want him! He’s just going to be sad and miserable for a bit. :c]]

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[revokes]

You should trust her more.

[ he can't believe he's having this conversation to begin with. He pinches the bridge of his nose. why oh why did he decide to quit drinking? ]

And if you can't do it, you shouldn't be around her to begin with. This isn't a soap opera and we're not in Jersey Shore. You shouldn't assume. You should talk to her - did you even talk to her?

[directed]

It's not a matter of trust.

[Even after Tony goes on to demand if they've conversed, if Rip has done anything beyond assuming and drinking. Rip taps his communicator--it's on the counter in front of him, just in case, though he's kept it face down.]

She cancelled our appointment. Yesterday was Wednesday. [And perhaps Tony might recall the first time he'd gotten dragged into Rip's and Peggy's affair, before it had even begun, over a Wednesday.

This time, Rip had gotten the message.]

But before you go on to inform me as to everything I'm doing wrong, a question. Tell me, Tony. [Since the man refuses to accept a more polite address, so be it.] Have you ever lost anyone you loved?

[revokes]

She's upset. You're seriously building a case on that? That's what you have? So she canceled one date. One.

[ and the question makes him laugh, makes him shake his head ]

I lost both my parents at the same day. I lost my one father figure and the other nearly ripped my heart out. I lost the people who cared about me and the woman I love may be dead. So yeah. I lost people I loved, jackass - which is why I'm telling you that you're making a mistake.

[directed]

[He waits; what Tony likely doesn't know, what Peggy has learned over the course of all those Wednesdays, is that Rip is calculating and methodical even in so many of his worst moments. Equally, it would also be lie to say that part of him wasn't enjoying the fight--savoring the opportunity for an outlet, when all he's had so far are assumptions and a canceled date, and so many losses of his own.

He makes sure Tony is finished with his list. Perhaps if he weren't so blinded by emotion and liquor both, he'd see the first sparks of good intentions behind it.]

I never knew my father, and my mother was dead by the time I was five. I was taken in by an organization, raised by them, given purpose. Met the woman who would become my wife and the mother of my child through them. Then that organization sent an immortal psychopath to slaughter my family in cold blood, all to manipulate me. Of course since I'm a time traveler I went back to try and save them--I don't know how many times any more. And in each of them, I failed.

Since then I've lost teammates, allies--got brainwashed and murdered two friends with my own hands, in fact. Almost three when I snapped one's neck after shooting her in the stomach. Lost the relic I was trying to protect to a cabal of supervillains, and have spent the last year entirely isolated while that group has had their way with the world, which has led to a few nasty habits--including yes, sulking about the bar, drowning my sorrows.

But what it has also led to, all of it, is an understanding of just how far I am willing to go get back what I've lost. People I love. [To hear Ray tell it, Rip would even be convinced to violate time itself to fix what's been broken with the world--and give up his own life in the process.] Peggy has been granted that chance, and she deserves the opportunity to take it should she wish. You may see my lack of interference as a sign I do not care, but I assure you:

It is exactly the opposite.

[revokes]

But you don't know that. You don't know what she wants but you're sitting here and behaving like she's already made up her mind.

[ oh, hell. ]

She's the only family I have. My mother died, my dad couldn't stand me. She made me go to their funeral, she cared for me. She's everything I have and if you care for her then you should fight for her. That's what she deserves. I don't know how much time we have left, but I want to see her happy. Just make sure you sober up and do it.

[directed]

I’m giving her the opportunity to make up her mind—and yes, medicating my sorrows in the meantime.

[Perhaps it’s too easy and too unwise, but Rip honestly doesn’t care. He’s felt the all-too keen pain of losing someone he cares for so deeply with a sober mind; if this is merely a temporary worry, then doesn’t it make so much sense to put it off as long as possible?

To numb the heartache until such time as Rip can be certain he need feel it in full—until he truly must live with it, again.

Still. Once Rip had told Tony he thought they might find some common ground, and here they are. The words the man offers are sound ones; reasonable, and yes, Peggy does indeed every moment of happiness she can be offered. Although Rip still is not convinced that the fight Tony speaks of is the best way towards it, it’s merely the means they disagree upon.

Certainly not the end.]

You have my word. [To see her happy—and perhaps even more. There’s not much left in his glass, after all. The hour’s late. Rip lets out a sigh, and wonders if perhaps now might not be the time to give it a rest for the night.]