She's not entirely sure whether that worries her more or less. Are they experimenting with his blood again? If he no longer has the abilities from the serum, have they counter-acted it with the help of the blood? Her brow is furrowed, lined with the thoughts, but when he speaks, she finds her train of thought collides into a stop. Momentarily, she is speechless.
Steve has always been rather damnably good at robbing her of her ability to be coherent. "Between yourself, Sam Wilson, and the others, I've cobbled together a decent picture of the future," she admits, though as to whether she likes that picture, she can't say. "They told me about finding you in the ice," she says. "That you were alive, that I had failed in finding you." That had been a good month of guilt eating her alive. Then, when he'd arrived, she'd learned more and pieced things together. "I know I'm not alive anymore," she says, trying to stubbornly be strong through this. "I know I passed. I know that you and I still haven't had our dance," she adds, lightly, as if it isn't something that weighs on her.
"I know..." Peggy inhales sharply and tells herself that after fighting a war and losing so many people, there is no reason not to say this. "I know that I'm still furious with you for not leaving me your coordinates," she insists, her grief slamming into the angry words, "and I'm angry that the radio cut off before I could tell you that I loved you. That, I love you," she belatedly corrects, for in this case, past is present and likely always will be future, as well.
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Steve has always been rather damnably good at robbing her of her ability to be coherent. "Between yourself, Sam Wilson, and the others, I've cobbled together a decent picture of the future," she admits, though as to whether she likes that picture, she can't say. "They told me about finding you in the ice," she says. "That you were alive, that I had failed in finding you." That had been a good month of guilt eating her alive. Then, when he'd arrived, she'd learned more and pieced things together. "I know I'm not alive anymore," she says, trying to stubbornly be strong through this. "I know I passed. I know that you and I still haven't had our dance," she adds, lightly, as if it isn't something that weighs on her.
"I know..." Peggy inhales sharply and tells herself that after fighting a war and losing so many people, there is no reason not to say this. "I know that I'm still furious with you for not leaving me your coordinates," she insists, her grief slamming into the angry words, "and I'm angry that the radio cut off before I could tell you that I loved you. That, I love you," she belatedly corrects, for in this case, past is present and likely always will be future, as well.