Agent Level 6, Director of the Food Services Division aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier.
"When the skies are looking above my dear, and your heart’s lost all it’s hope,
after dawn there will be sunshine and all the dust will go,
skies will clear up my darling, I wake up with the one I love the most,
and in the morning I’ll make you up some tea and toast.” -Lucy Spraggan
Current M!A: None
It’s a panel of five white guys and him (okay, six white guys) talking about gender equality in the workforce.
It was originally supposed to be an interview about the attack on New York by the Chitauri, but they’d gotten on the subject of the Black Widow and now…
Steve sinks lower into his seat. Some of the stuff these guys are saying is really inappropriate, not to mention wrong. And this is live TV!
"Women’s place is in the home," one of the men says, and turns to Steve. "That’s how it was back in the forties, so—you agree, right, Captain?"
At least he got the title right. Say what you will about Fox News, but when they meet someone they respect, they use all the right titles. The fact that they refuse to call President Obama by his title is one of the many things that peeves Steve.
"It wasn’t like that in the forties," Steve says. Had this man ever taken a history class? “In the 1940s, America was at war. It’s thanks to a lot of really great ladies that we even won that war. If they hadn’t been in the weapons factories, they would have stood empty. They made our bullets; they made our parachutes; they made our lifevests. I—and most of my squadron—would be dead without those women.”
The man is shuffling around his papers. Steve glances at the others, who are avoiding his eyes. “Our great country would be nowhere without its women. Without Agent Peggy Carter, we would have no intelligence program to speak of. Without Ada Lovelace you wouldn’t have a computer. Without Clara Barton, we’d have no American Red Cross. Do you want me to go on? Because I can.”
"Neither Peggy Carter nor Ada Lovelace are Americans."
For a second, Steve can’t believe this guy has the balls to say that to him. “Who cares? They changed the world. Peggy started that here, with SHIELD. She’s the reason I’m here.” He hesitates, waiting to see if anyone else is going to say anything, but they don’t. “I, for one, owe my life to Peggy Carter. So do most of you. You can’t tell me a woman like her doesn’t deserve equal pay. Peggy Carter is a warrior, and to be honest, so is every woman living in this country. With guys like you, they’ve got to fight for their survival. I’m surprised they haven’t mutinied on us.”
Tabitha sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking, too miserable to notice the badger nose that was trying to get her attention. Her throat was still raw from the scream she had woken with, and she whimpered softly, in time with her rocking.
"Not again. Not again.Please, not again. Why? I never hurt anyone. I always did what I was supposed to. I trusted the system. Why did they lie to me? Why did they lie about me? I never hurt anyone. Why did they send me here? Oh gods no, not again.”
She waved her hands in front of her, as if trying to bat away grabbing hands, and began screaming again.
Arthur ran to the bedroom, only to narrowly avoid being stepped on as Hazel hurried out of it to see what the ruckus was. ”Tabitha? Tabitha, oh Gods, what’s going on? Shhh….sweetie, shhh…” She knelt down and hesitated to even touch her, the way she was flailing.
"Tabitha…luv…please. It’s Hazel, you’re in my flat. Shhh. Please, calm down!"
She stopped short a few paces behind the familiar form of her friend and answered back to her, ” I know better by now than to tap you on the shoulder. Turn around!”
Hazel grinned, few paying attention to her or what she wore. Few knew her well here on the ground, and she was…
" Ohh, very nice. " She expected no less. Commercial flights were never fun, and Maria didn’t relax much even in the most controlled of environments. " I’m all ready. Let’s get up there. So who’s attached to the QuinJet, or… oh you’re not flying us too, are you?"
She fell in step beside the taller brunette. She herself had her backpack and a light duffel to carry, not much more Than she usually had on her down here on the ground. The familiar roof launch pad held the prepped and waiting jet, and she walked up the ramp with ease.
"I’m driving. less witnesses to the inevitable debauchery that way, right?" She grinned slightly, if in an awkward way that said she wasn’t sure how much debauchery she’d be getting up to, or how to go about it should the opportunity arise.
"There’s food aboard, and stuff. You can sit next to me and we can chat about stuff."
"Oh, smart thinking. See, this is why you’re a high muckamuck here. BUT…not this week. Once we land, it’s just you and me and no rank, no worries. Just Maria and Hazel out on holiday. Got it, miss? And after we are done, I want the natives to ask themselves ‘Why is the rum gone?’" She teased as she stored the bags in the cargo nets and went up to claim the copilot’s seat.
She kept her amusement mostly to herself. She knew that this was outside of a huge comfort zone for Maria, and she was going to try to make it as easy as she could for her friend. Well. Within reason. She settled and strapped into the harness so they could take off without waiting on her to Do That Thing. ”How long do you expect the flight to take?”
Martin Luther (via observando)
"Mmhmm. Lesser people who were worthless…except that they made all of the gorgeous shiny plates and bowls that they would set the table with for their fancy dinners, right?" She grinned a bit and nodded, shrugged. "I know…different time, different standards. But…I can check and see if that place is free, sure!"
"You know, that ability you have to put doorways where you need them is brilliant. I know I love being able to step through and find you when I need to. I think I feel the same way…I just want to be where you are. I’m content there."
He nodded sourly. “Yeah. that pretty much covers it. Yet another reason to be happier here and now.” He shook his head. “A lot of my trouble with the father was because I got along better with the people downstairs than I did with the ‘proper’ people.”
"Sorry, Dad," Edgar sent to Fred and Hazel. "Chavenage isn’t for sale. Plenty of other manors are, but that one’s actually turning a slight profit for the owners. You’d be amazed how many nobility are actually worse off than the people who work at the pottery here."
"We’ll look later," Fred said. "Thanks." He gave Hazel a loving smile. "Anywhere you are, I’m happy."
Lunch was amazing, she’d been craving this stuff and didn’t realise it. She could make it any time but there was something about going to the pub, ordering a pint and a meal and just immersing one’s self in the experience, familiar and traditional. She swapped bites with him and they both went through another pint before she convinced him to split a piece of pie with her. Berries were in season, after all.
They paid and left a gracious tip before going out into the warm sunshine. ”So…did you want to check out some of the local shops before they close? We’ll go to Glastonbury tomorrow and see if they’re available, and when. And if they’re not, well, there’s always the place in Central Park we’d talked about, right?”