AN: Agent Carter almost made me cry from happiness. That is all I shall say.
Title comes from War: Part II by Former Vandal.
Disclaimer: I am not Christopher Markus or Stephan McFeely.
Title: bit our souls six feet under ground
Word Count: 577
Summary: "Mr. Jarvis, please," she said, dabbing her eyes with a yellow handkerchief that was taken from his hand. "We're British. We must act like we are incapable of showing emotion."
Peggy set her little white china cup down on its plate and stiffened her posture. Her eyes glanced back to the door, keeping tally of who was leaving and entering the diner. Satisfied for a moment, she retrieved her compact mirror from her purse and made a show as though she was checking her lipstick.
Yes, the patriotic shade of red was smudged at the corner of her lower lip, but Peggy was much more interested in the man that was hunched over near the bar. Frowning, she angled her mirror to get a better view, but Jarvis' reflection suddenly took over. The back of his suit blocked the image of the man entirely.
"Are we about to start another exciting day at the office, Miss. Carter?" Mr. Jarvis asked. He nodded politely when a waitress poured him coffee.
Peggy closed the compact mirror with a click and set it next to her weak tea. "I'm not sure about today's activities," she admitted, lacing her fingers together. Perhaps she could make mind relax, banishing the imaginary enemies that lurked around her. "I may only be seeing things in the shadows."
"My wife had said something similar the other night, and it had turned out to be mice scurrying behind our curtains. It was rather dreadful."
"I can imagine." Peggy broke her stoic expression for a mere moment to allow a quick smile.
"And are you well?" She heard the click of him setting his cup down on the table. "Things have been quiet on your end."
She sighed. "Despite certain measurements, my floor can be…boisterous. I can't help but feel like I'm being spied upon. Remind me to thank our friend for the paranoia when this is all over."
"So a bouquet it won't be," Jarvis said. "And how are you adjusting to your new living arrangements?"
Peggy frowned and tapped her red nails on the table. "The hot water has actual pressure, I have nosy neighbors that wish to know every detail about my life, and I'm often surrounded by women but still manage to feel alone." She sighed again and rested her chin on her folded arms. "I don't believe I know how to interact with people that aren't skilled in trained combat."
Jarvis paused. "I think we've been interacting well despite my lack of certain skills, of course."
"We'll start exchanging friendship bracelets later." Peggy felt the itch behind her eyes. She shut them and ignored the growing feeling of loneliness that was now becoming an accessory in her life. Alone in a job that had little respect for her, and she was alone in a hotel full of welcoming women. She thought about Steve for the umpteenth time, imagining what her life would be if he was alive. Maybe they would be together, filling their Saturdays with dances and going to the cinema instead of her sitting alone in her room, dreading the days of work that were ahead.
Much to her dismay, Peggy felt the tears escape. She covered her face with her hand, like if that could stop her silent crying.
"Do…do you wish for a handkerchief or…a hug?" He said the last word as if the action was actually a missing button from a fine suit.
"Mr. Jarvis, please," she said, dabbing her eyes with a yellow handkerchief that was taken from his hand. "We're British. We must act like we are incapable of showing emotion."
They sat in silence.