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WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Outside the Inn
WHEN: Late October 11th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mature clothing
STATUS: Closed

Naughty Surprises

When the box arrives on her doorstep, at first Peggy thinks that perhaps it's simply James' turn for a gift. The package is a small one, the likes of which she'd found her hair items in earlier, and though she still doesn't understand the ability of a prison like this to deliver them such luxuries, she's also not about to turn them away. She's even turned over her shoulder to summon Barnes when she gets a better look at the name on it.

It's her name. Odd, though. After the last few, Peggy can't imagine what more she might require. Certainly, the seeds and the pigeons have been somewhat useful and the hair frivolities are a lovely little treat, but what more could she need? Settling on the front steps in order to open it and find out, she discovers that apparently, there is a cruel streak of humour in whomever is sending her such gifts.

The top two items are practical. They appear to be quite skimpy, but look like they will support her quite well if she decides she wishes to exercise. The shorts and brassiere are not what she's used to, but the concept is quite practical. It's when she goes further to the next layer that has her eyes wide and a look of shock on her face.

"Good God!" she reacts, slamming the box shut instantly. Opening it a moment later, the set is still there, as lurid and red and lacy as before. Fishing the top out, Peggy dangles the strap of an indecent set of bra and panties from her fingertips, which wouldn't cover much on any woman, let alone her. Turning skywards, she regards her strange benefactors with a disbelieving look, as if this is suddenly some awful movie production Howard is manning and he expects her to put on a show.

"If you think I'm putting these on where anyone can see, you've another thing coming," she warns the strange gods above, staring through the holes of the panties and going approximately the same colour red when she sees someone else through them. "Well," she says, as calmly as she can muster, "this is embarrassing."

One Hundred and One...

When Kate and Margaery are found and brought back to safety (albeit somewhat scraped), Peggy finds herself quick to frustration and hating her ineptitude in helping to find them. That, combined with how easily her body slides to weariness is a reminder that she needs to keep up with a much more regimented training plan. While she dislikes running for the sake of exercise, she clads herself in her brand new sports brassiere, the tank top, and scrubs trousers before going for a run.

What she would like most of all is something to take out her aggression on. There had been nothing better than the punching bag at Howard's mansion to finish a day with, allowing her fists to take out all the fury she can manage. The best she can do here is a pillow she's absconded with, but the punches feel light and she gives up someway through when it's nowhere near the sort of satisfying she's aiming for.

In her mind, she can hear Howard's voice (a ghost of itself) as it asks Peggy, does Jarvis know that you can do 107 one armed pushups? and it makes her absurdly homesick for a set of people, but also gives her a determined goal to try and best.

It's been some time since she set that record for herself, but there's no time like the present to try and beat it, especially since sparring seems out of the question when the pillow is hardly fighting back. Pinning her hair back to keep it from her face, Peggy settles herself on the ground in order to begin, winding her way through the first four sets of ten with ease, but as she begins to hit seventy, then eighty, she finds herself flagging.

"Bloody Nora, they weren't always this hard," she mutters under her breath, arm trembling as she refuses to give up just yet. This is what she gets for ignoring her regiment as long as she has, and with a loud cry of frustration, her arm gives out and she goes to her stomach on the barely-dried ground, accepting that she'll be doing quite a bit of laundry after this. Staring up, she lets out a long sigh and wishes for Howard's gym facilities, not for the first time.

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She'd gone for a walk. She'd even walked out the front door, and not climbed down sheets from her window like she'd been tempted. People are fussing, like she's made of spun glass and caught pneumonia. Which she hasn't. She's merely been sleeping for most of the time since yesterday, and trying not to laugh because the scratch across her nose stings when she crinkles her face in a smile.

Added to that just how soothing Benedict's- Mr Sorelin's - presence is, and honestly, Kate just needs some fresh air. So she'd strapped up her foot, pulled some dry clothes, and gone for a walk.

She hadn't expected to see Miss Carter sitting outside the house she shares with Mr Barnes, although people do tend to sit on the steps. She most certainly hadn't been expecting to see the woman holding...

Holding...

"What in God's name is that?"

Peggy smiles wryly at Kate through the holes, shifting it so that the pair of indecent briefs dangles from her outstretched index finger. Were it another man (and were it some very specific men) she might blush harder, but when it's just another woman, Peggy isn't so quick to embarrassment. "I believe it's something someone would like to see me in," she notes, because she can't imagine any other reason for its arrival.

"I'm afraid my nameless benefactor is going to have to learn with disappointment."

Thorfinn had been back to his normal routine as soon as the rain stopped, firewood was some days, hunting and gathering others. He had to keep himself busy, it was the only thing he really knew how to do these days without being at sea or having a set of instructions. So, manual labor came first. He was coming back with his arms full of split logs to drop in the back yard near the cellar door. It was where he had been keeping the wood he was collecting. Perfect little piles almost like he was making a fence out of the split logs, but he wasn't. It was just how he was stacking them.

Kol's house, where he was still staying, was right behind the Inn. So, as he shifted to head back to the woods he noticed Peggy and her impressive training. He didn't even think about it, he made his way over watching as he did. He never expected to see a woman doing such movements but it added to his already forming thoughts that Peggy Carter wasn't a normal woman. "You've not been training enough, gets harder without doing so enough." He heard her say, as he stood not far off from her in his dusty tunic Kate had made him, over the light gray stained up scrub pants and boots. His hair braided back up in two braids going down and joining in the back as one. All in all, he looked much better than the day in the rain. Thorfinn waited to move over to offer a hand until she was let out the sigh. No judging in his look at all.

Peggy glances up from the sweaty hair in her eyes, staring blearily up at Thorfinn as she works her knee to the ground in order to lever herself into a sitting position, breathing out sharply. Lucky that her clothes are dark, but the tank top is no longer the pristine white it had once been. "I let myself get soft," she confesses with a shake of her head. "I used to be able to do more, you know. A hundred and seven of them!"

Now she's just boasting and it's a touch embarrassing, which makes her remember not to be so smug. "I don't suppose you'd like to be my sparring partner? Keep me in shape today?"

Thorfinn nodded, clearly impressed. Though his English was still coming along he had always been good with numbers and math. His sister had ingrained it in him from the time he learned speak. "Very impressive, would not have guessed." He admitted. Peggy didn't strike him the fighting or training type. He knew of women who fought along side men, but he had not met many. "We have much time here, you will get to more if you want." He spoke with a sure tone.

Letting an amused noise escape him, thankful once more that no one but Jo knows the details about his past here. "Sure, Peggy, but I have not sparred with a woman before, please tell if to much. I do not wish to hurt anyone anymore." he spoke honestly. Even if he hated violence it was a better idea to help with her if he could, least something happen while the men were away and the woman not be able to protect themselves. Though with the woman in this village it seemed unlikely to happen but he still worried.

She steadies herself on her feet and works to re-pinning her hair in place to ensure that it won't go too wild. She gives him a fond look, a touch empathetic, but it's driving her onwards to show off a little. "I assure you," she promises firmly, "you won't hurt me. Just tell me if I hurt you too much," she insists.

Raising her hands, she sets herself into a boxing stance, and waits for Thorfinn to approach in order to know what she's dealing with and how best to defend herself and then attack.

Thorfinn pulled the knife from his boot tossing it over to the side the nails and random stuff he had in his pockets. He watched her take her stance and nodded. Fists, fists were easier, he just had to remember to control his strength. He didn't know enough about Peggy to know what to expect.

He moved forward then with a dash of speed to close the distance between them. He swung out hard with his right fist, testing how quick she was, he couldn't let himself listen to the voice inside screaming it wasn't okay to try and hit a woman. She asked, she wanted to spar, it would be rude to hold back to much.

It's not like Nerys has never seen lingerie before, though Bajoran fashions differ considerably from Earth ones, so she's not entirely certain why Peggy's blushing the same color as the underwear she's holding up and looking through. Or why Peggy's looking through it at all. Admittedly, it's about as practical as feeding hasperat to a sinoraptor, around here, but it's nice enough, she guesses.

"It's okay," she replies to Peggy. "Though I think you're supposed to wear them on your body, not your face?" She may be playing up the not-from-around-here thing for a laugh, to ease the embarrassment.

She's glad that they're not sparring with knives. While she can absolutely dodge them, she's much better with the sheer power of fists. Thorfinn is even closer to her height, which will allow her to fight without worrying about the projection of longer limbs and attacks that she can't replicate.

Smiling broadly when he charges, she brings up both forearms to block the swing, offering a swift, "sorry," before she uses the opportunity to lift up her knee to make contact, swinging with her left in a wide arc once she's pulled away, hoping that the wide arc of it will telegraph enough that he can work with it and deflect.

"If whoever left this thinks I'm going to wiggle my arse into this just because someone left it on my doorstep, they've another thing coming," Peggy says darkly, wishing that there had been a delivery man or someone else that she could slap. This reeks of Howard levels of joking and the timing is particularly cruel, given Steve's arrival last month. It's enough to make her stuff it back into the box, trying for more civility when she next looks at Nerys.

"Apparently, between the useful presents and the unending canyon walls, someone expects a fashion show."

Annie can feel herself going mad.

Ever since her Academy days, she'd gone for a daily run. Barring injury, of course. Swimming depended on weather, on if she was okay with water, but running? Every day. Even if it was up and down the marble stairs in her victor's mansion, she'd run. She'd run because it's a habit, she'd run to keep up her stamina, and she'd run because she noticed if she didn't, she got...

Worse.

More distracted, more paranoid. The violent thoughts would come and the fear would be easier to set off.

Except, here, in an arena, ironically enough she can't. And here, once she and Finnick had taken refuge in the house, there isn't even any hiking. She can feel her energy curl itself in her, under her skin, starting to seize up her fingers and make her twitch.

Once the rains had gone, she'd had to get out. Walk a bit. Normally, she'd add, 'talk to someone not Finnick', but that's not a goal here, with these strange people. Besides, she knows he's watching her from where he's gathering supplies. Keeping an eye, just in case she needs assistance. Which she doesn't, until she sees the brunette doing push-ups with one arm and collapse into the dirt with an all too familiar groan.

She'll blame it all on being cooped up in a house, in an arena, because Annie opens her mouth and blurts out, "They're always if you've not done 'em in a while."

Then she snaps her mouth shut and stares, a little wide-eyed, because even in a non-arena setting, people don't tend to like random comments from her.

Peggy's glance upwards is fond despite the wryness, because it's hardly the other woman's fault that she's lost her ability to do the push-ups the way she might have once been able. And it's true in that she hasn't done them in a very long time, seeing as she's been trying to find a way out of here, which means push-ups and running and sparring, in general, have taken a backseat. "You would think that with all the time in the world that I do have, I'd be acing these with no problem."

And yet, here she is, struggling away. She pulls herself to her feet and one planted firmly in the ground as she works herself to her feet. "You sound like you're speaking from experience," she says warmly.

Riza does her best to hide the smile playing at the corner of her lip. She knows that if the situation were reversed she would also likely be turning red. However, since it is not her, it is a little easier to find amusement in the situation. Even she can admit, though, that Peggy would likely be able to pull off that particular pair of lingerie just fine. Although, on the other hand, it is rather creepy that someone out there decided to send them over.

"I didn't realize it was laundry day," Riza finally replies in a cool voice. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Like to see you in," Kate repeats, with a performer's precision. Frowning, she adjusts her grip on the crutches and swings her way forwards to peer closer. She'd been bemused, and more than a little scandalised, at the smallness of the underthings their captors thought decent, but the scrap of fabric Miss Carter is holding up, she doesn't even understand how it works.

"Is. I'd presume from your reaction it ain't exactly a hair-piece, but... what is it?"

It's precisely the right thing to say in order to steal her words for a moment. She wishes she could be quick to a quip and to insist that there will be no lucky men, but there is the unfortunate presence of Steve in the back of her mind. Luckily, she recovers herself quickly enough and tucks the lacy thing back into the box with an efficient and curt folding motion. "I can assure you, no one has that sort of luck to have earned that sort of view of me," is her demure and calm reply, even if it's been such a very long dry spell that she wouldn't mind allowing someone to be lucky.

That's not the sort of thing that you ought to be fixated on when you're surviving, though. "Honestly, I'm beginning to think that there are some very disturbed people in charge of giving these gifts." Now that she's collected herself, she turns her attention to the woman. "I think this is the first time I've ever met anyone over unmentionables."

Amused, now, Peggy feels rather a bit better knowing that while she might be slightly shocked, it seems like she's going to get to introduce Kate to a brand new sort of undergarment today. She can practically feel herself preparing for the task. Peggy rises to her feet and clears her throat as she rolls her shoulders back and tries to act quite dignified as she overlays the brassiere over her chest, laying the straps where they ought to go.

"See me in," she echoes once more. She leans into the box to dig out the bottoms with a pinky and dangles them in view. "Matching set, I believe."

Thorfinn wouldn't bring knives into a spar or brawl unless things got serious. He had utter faith in himself to keep from ever needing to cut someone again. He was used to fighting people larger than himself, it was rare he faced someone his own height which made it interesting to not have to swing up but out.

When the knee came up Thorfinn's eye's widened with the sorry. Pain was such a rare feeling that he let show on his features but when the knee made contact it showed. At least with the wide arch he threw himself back almost like a limbo move barely missing the fist, but it did little to ease the pain from her knee. He dropped a hand down so he could swing one of his legs out to try and trip her.

It's been some time since she's sparred like this, so when he catches her and she lands on her arse, the air knocks out of her enough that it takes an extra moment to collect her thoughts and calm her mind before she can find her composure again. Once she does, she rolls back over her shoulder to her feet, shaking the dirt out of her hair as she sizes him up to look for an opening.

"Where did you learn to fight?" she asks, as she parries forward and jabs quickly for his cheek.

Nerys bites her lip a little, mostly to keep back a smile. It's not that she doesn't take Peggy's anger seriously--she shares it, after all--but saying as much with a pair of barely-there underwear in hand is still a little funny. Particularly when she gestures with it, sort of like a flag.

"I wouldn't strut down the canyon in that," she says, deciding that's the best focal point for the time being, to keep from laughing or from the creeping feeling of unease that comes from Peggy being left some clothing that's impossible to make on site. Like their mysterious captors have a replicator or something. "You'd probably get a cold, and that's the last thing you need."

The moment she hits the ground he bounced himself back up with his weight on the hand he had dropped down, flipping his braid back behind his back. Luckily he was used to his hair being in his way. At least with it pulled out of his way he could see better than he used to in his youth.

"With the Danes." It was a short answer, but not one that left a lot of room for questioning. When her jab comes for his cheek he decides to just take the hit, he knew how to take a hit. Thorfinn could have tried to move but instead he moved his palm towards her forehead at a quick speed.

"I'm inclined to agree," Riza admits. She wonders if perhaps she was a bit too forward with her quip. The woman doesn't seem too upset though, just a little flustered and recovering from that. Riza decides not to needle her too much since, as she points out, they've only just really met.

"I can thankfully say the same I think," Riza says, though she's fairly certain that with the small population she had seen Peggy around. "Sorry if I was a bit forward. I've seen you around but I guess you're right, this is the first time we've really gotten a chance to speak. I'm Riza Hawkeye, I've been staying at the Inn."

Peggy's laugh is a barked, delighted thing as she stares at it wryly, agreeing that if someone imagines this to be a new wardrobe for her exploring, it's going to be a rude awakening for them. "No, I don't think it did make the pages of the fashion magazines for roughing it when exploring magical canyons," is her critical remark. She sets it back in the box and sighs. "There's other more useful pieces of clothing, but I don't understand the impracticality of these."

Well, that's not entirely true. If she assumes this place to be as cruel as it can be kind, she knows exactly why she's being taunted with such things on the heels of a certain someone's arrival. In another life, these items might have been purchased and worn on a wedding night. Something that never came to pass, not for her.

She ducks swiftly, hair slower to catch up as some of it escapes the pins, and in her haste to escape the move, she's left herself crouched over and without many places to go. She abandons the idea of getting up and instead goes backwards to roll over her shoulder, setting some space between the two of them. "I just learned from disrespectful privates giving me a chance to punch them."

And the Howling Commandos, along with Steve, had been a quick education on how to be a proper bruiser. She rolls her shoulders back and aims, now, for a low punch to his stomach as she charges again with speed.

"Peggy Carter, apparently now the owner of a set of unmentionables the likes of which should only be on mannequins in department stores," she says, as she absently folds away the underwear in order to get them out of sight. "I assure you, considering the subject matter at hand, it's far from forward," she guarantees.

She can only imagine how lewd and lurid the comments could be. "You're somewhat newly arrived, aren't you?"

Thorfinn jumped back with a bounce of his heels when she ducked, agile and prepared, also with the same idea of putting space between them. "Clearly they taught you well." He noted as he shifted back into the same stance he had started in, his hands up and prepared. "I had to learn, it was fight or die."

Thorfinn watched her speed towards him and didn't move until she was close, he knew he'd have to take the hit in order to go for the move that came to mind, both hands lifted as she came to mind lacing together as he brought them both down hard aiming to get the top of her back, avoiding head and neck, when her punch hit, it knocked the wind out of him, easing some of the force that he brought his hands down. It was almost a strangled choke that escaped him.

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