sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: #43 - The Vincennes
WHEN: December 27th - Evening
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open (Gathering Style)

When the gifts had arrived, Peggy had treated them at first with the same suspicion as anything else here. Things simply weren't that good to be true, but these gifts had people's names on them this time. With the exception of several that she couldn't begin to understand (such as that one from a man named Ivan, that she barely recalled interacting with), the rest were so kind and thoughtful that she soon found herself with a wealth of possessions she hadn't hoped to possess here.

The party had been borne of one single thought: I have nowhere to wear such lovely things and when she'd found the wine and liquor from others (including Tony, which didn't surprise her in the very least), she knew that she could change that. She'd posted a quick notice at the inn using some of the cardboard of a box and the lovely fountain pen Helen had given her, then did the same at many of the public buildings, inviting people to her home and inviting them to bring any food or drink they might like to provide, as well as suggesting this as an opportunity to wear their fanciest.

She set out her drinks (the ones she was willing to share) and made sure to tidy the home so that it was presentable. In her youth, back during her first engagement, she might have imagined entertaining like this on a regular basis, but that had been swept away by the war. Instead, Peggy was left hoping that such a gala would be acceptable and that she wouldn't simply be here alone tonight.

Setting her new record player (and her single record) down, she cranked it to begin playing the record that had come with it (a pressing of the Glenn Miller Band), and then she began to convince herself that there was nothing more that she could do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And there's something about that implication that Peggy did something that wasn't strictly proper that warms Stella to her just that much more — because if there's something Stella has never taken to, even as a young woman, it was being told what she ought and ought not to do. Her smile doesn't exactly grow more effusive — she's not really an expressive woman in that regard, which Peggy has probably already noticed — but there's good humor in her eyes.

"That would probably be for the best," she says, given that none of the dances that were popular when she was a little younger than Peggy is would be either appropriate for the music or anything she'd be interested in dancing, "but I can't say I'm completely familiar."

The basic idea of swing she knows, but it will take her a couple tries to get the rhythm and the steps.

"What I learned was mostly that there's a great deal of stepping, and the occasional pointing of your toe," she says, "as we were too young at the time to really get into anything too inventive. Michael refused to lift me, said something terribly insulting about my hips that I won't repeat." And he never did either, given the black eye Peggy had given him for it. She tugs Stella towards the dance floor and smiles like a girl to think of how silly this might look.

"Well, at least it's not in front of an even larger crowd," is her opinion as she gestures towards the small group, happy for once for a smaller gala, given the potential humiliation.

To be quite honest, Stella usually doesn't care what other people think of her unless she has to — so the idea of potentially embarrassing herself a bit does not really put her off her stride. She doesn't really know what she's doing, but, believe it or not, this would not be the first time.

"I've not seen any stray photographers," she says, smile gone a little dry — there is a story there, appropriate possibly for later, but not for the moment. "I think we'll be all right."

She has both of Peggy's hands in hers, and it's a little awkward to be the one leading when the other woman is slightly taller, but — she does begin with something, eventually, that could pass for a halfway decent beginning East Coast swing step: a sideways step once, then twice, bringing her feet together after each one, then a forward step with the one foot, anticipating Peggy will match her with a step backward. Nothing elaborate, but she doesn't know enough for that; mostly, she is just taking her time, and wondering when was the last time she did something like this just for the sake of doing something fun. It's been years, honestly.

Peggy's not a ballerina or a danger by any means, but she still prides herself enough to be graceful enough that she doesn't want to make a fool of herself. Luckily, Stella doesn't pick anything too difficult and it allows Peggy to be able to follow the steps. She's still staring down a touch too much for her liking, but eventually, is able to pull herself up and to give her companion a flushed smile.

"It's telling how much this is making me sweat," is her wry remark, given how before, she could have ran up a dozen flights of stairs and not gotten to this point. Village life is making her somewhat soft, it seems.