Defying Convention [For Peggy]

[theycalledmeacurse]

Being back in the 1940’s was… difficult, to say the least. Rogue tried her best to fit in and not draw too much attention to herself, but sometimes she opened her mouth and the exact wrong thing came out and got her into trouble – that wrong thing usually being one insult or another to a chauvinistic pig who thought he was the universe’s gift to womankind. She just couldn’t stand that, and it clearly didn’t matter who the guy was, she’d just lay into him, consequences be damned.

Which was why she was on her third job in as many months since getting her new identity set up. She just kept ending up working for assholes who treated their female employees like second-class citizens. It was appalling, and every time it happened she found herself missing the future fiercely. Sure, things may not have been perfect then, but it had certainly been better than this.

And most of the women just accepted it, not realizing that they could stand up for themselves, or just being too scared to try. There were a few exceptions to the rule, though, little sparks of hope that Rogue found herself drawn to. One of those exceptions was sitting at a table along the back wall of the restaurant, or whatever they called this type of place in this era, right where she’d said she’d be. Peggy Carter had been an intriguing mystery since she’d first laid eyes on her, when the other woman had stepped in to help deal with a mugger who had picked the wrong southern belle to rob. Rogue hadn't exactly needed the help, but the gesture had been very much appreciated and so she'd insisted upon repaying the good deed with dinner, or at the very least a cup of coffee. It had taken a lot of persuading, but now here they were.

Smoothing out the skirt of her green dress with hands that were blissfully bare thanks to her newfound (if tentative) control in this era, she stepped through the door and headed toward her dining companion.

Comments

[filing]

Immediately Peggy's eyebrow went up. "A boarding school, really!" she exclaimed. "That must be equal parts fascinating and horrifying. I'd never have the patience for it, so I admire those that do."

For the moment she didn't touch on the mention of a husband, as -- well, that could be a sore spot. She had no way of knowing.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Fascinating and horrifying. The description was so accurate that Rogue couldn't help but chuckle quietly. "It was a learning experience for everyone, that's for sure," she said, her tone ripe with fondness. "It was a school for the gifted, so the students were absolutely incredible to work with, but they also caused the worst trouble in the most creative ways. We were constantly repairing the school after some sort of explosion or equally destructive disaster. And then they'd try to sneak out in the middle of the night on top of it!"

It felt good to talk about the school, her days as a teacher were some of the best of her life. She missed her life there desperately, but like everything else from before, it was simply beyond her reach now.

[filing]

Peggy's eyes widened and she nodded respectfully. "Good on you for making it out alive," she laughed. "I'm sure it was an adventure. I was at boarding school my entire childhood, I can remember the sort of chaos we incited. What did you teach?"

This sort of conversation was simple. Still the sort of thing Peggy was learning to adjust to again but welcome.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue grinned at the joke and at Peggy's laugh; she had a good, solid laugh, and Rogue loved the sound of it.

"French mostly, the language and literature," she answered easily. "Some English lit and history as well, depending on what we needed filled. And I handled the one-on-one self-defense classes."

It didn't occur to her until she'd said it that it would probably sound odd in this day and age. Even in her time, having large-scale defensive classes at a school was seen as peculiar, but in the 1940s...

[filing]

It was convenient, then, that Marie liked it, because Peggy was not exactly one for laughing constantly. She didn't often have good cause to, at least any farther than a wry chuckle.

Conveniently, though, she was the sort of woman who approved of the notion of self-defense classes and just assumed it was some sort of military school for the gifted, or some such. "Oh, c'est bon," she exclaimed. "I'm nowhere near fluent, but I picked up a bit during the war. How marvelous that must have been, getting to share a passion for subjects with children."