captainrcgrs: / STEVE.
there’s regret in blue hues as he gets to his feet, agent carter’s nails are perfectly painted, she has no need for him anymore. steve enjoys the warmth of her tent, the sweet parfume that lingers in the air but there’s a question she voices, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. for she’s met him before, saw the scrawny kid he was, the sickness in his every cell – waiting for the right partner he had said. there’s a snort, head shaking, ❛ no, ma’am, no one to leave behind at all. ❜ && maybe it’s for the best, he can be exactly what they need him to be, a super soldier who will do everything he can to succeed. question begs to be asked back but politeness stops him, that’s not a thing you ask ladies, that much he knows. but she asked first, wouldn’t it be even ruder to not ask back ? ❛ do you ? i mean, have a husband ? fiancé, err, family ? ❜ he’s stumbling upon his words, trying to walk the fine line between charming && interested – he’s obviously failing miserably, cerulean hues bravely staying upon her face.
she was the one that ASKED FIRST ––– but of course she’s kicking herself for it now, chewing at a red lip as though THAT’LL DO ANYTHING. ❝ no, I um ––––– not ANYMORE, anyway. ❞ she ought to know better than anyone when to KEEP QUIET, but something prompts her, so she forces up a smile. ❝ I could have had, but it happens that it’s significantly more difficult to prepare a meal for one’s husband afield, so really it was in everyone’s best interest to just have done. ❞ only HALF the story, as ever with Agent Carter, but it isn’t really the time for... all that. it’s a nice enough night, QUIET, for once –– no no gunfire, planes, raucous off-tune wailing from the barracks. no need for SYMPATHY. she glances down at sleek red nails then back up again, their ARTIST almost halfway out the door as it is. ❝ but never mind that. I won’t keep you. ❞
