ten_fwd | [Ten Forward]: Halloween Plot (sneaking this in belatedly)! OTA

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[Ten Forward]: Halloween Plot (sneaking this in belatedly)! OTA

This will not go down in the books as one of Steve's favorite weekends ever.

The costume has been humiliating enough, meeting people from his world, his future, while in said costume would be the cherry on top of the rotten sundae. Or you would think, anyway. But putting a soldier whose metabolism burns four times faster than normal on a candy-only diet for a few days, and you've got a recipe for one miserable man.

And -- because of course there's more -- that candy is apparently booby trapped. Steve thought the war was over. Just tell that to his hair, which is currently a limp shade of green -- and not a nice green, but a sad, tarnished penny green. It just adds to the lackluster expression on his face as he sits off in the darkest corner he can find, concentrating on keeping his knees together.

He doesn't think he's given women enough credit over the years. This is a lot harder than it looks.

--------

Once he's had plenty of time to brood, he decides no good ever comes from hanging back or hiding. He's heard about there being missions to find replicators that will produce real food somewhere on the ship, and he's interested in what the result of those missions has been. He can't be the only one on this boat who needs a square meal.

"Has anyone located a working replicator yet?" he calls to the room. "Or any food stores we can tap into?"

[ooc: The bit after the linebreak is for Dylan Hunt in particular, but consider either scenario OTA for any character! Steve's dressed as a USO girl, and my but don't those pumps make his legs look shapely? Powers and personality remain the same, save for the colored hair. :)]

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Judith's been avoiding junk food as much as possible. Which means, well... yeah, she's hungry, but the occasional fast never hurt anyone too badly.
She's also glad to only be in a 1940s women's baseball uniform.
And there's... is that.... she can't tell. The hair makes it hard...

Judith's going to just do the stand there and blink thing for a moment. She's good at that.

Jiminy Cricket, please don't tell him this is someone else from a world or universe or timeline -- or whatever it is that keeps getting crossed on this ship -- who knows who he is. It's strange enough when someone knows him and he can't return the courtesy, meeting them looking like this? It's a torture even Hydra wouldn't use.

Steve can't help the way his eyes drift over that uniform. Whether or not she believes it, it's more his interest in the sport (and the recognizable era it's from), than it is any attempt to leer. Not that she isn't a looker! He just -- oh, why bother?

"Ma'am," he says, clearing his throat and turning roughly the shade of a tomato.

"...Hi." If it is Oh-my-gosh-Captain-America, she's got a feeling he might not want to be recognized just yet. She can understand that, very much understand that.
He's looking at her outfit. Time to talk about the outfit!
"The costume's more my grandmother's speed," she decides to explain. "I did cross country at ESU." She smiles. "Finished the New York marathon five years straight." This is absolutely the best topic to wade straight into in this situation.

He offers her a wry twist of a smile. It's not a terrible topic, given the plethora of other more obvious conversational pieces at hand, but he won't deny feeling a dull sting when she mentions her grandmother.

Steve Rogers: Living Museum Piece.

"This isn't my usual uniform either," he says dryly. "Usually mine has ... pants."

He clears his throat, and pretends he can't feel the heat in the tips of his ears. "That's pretty impressive. Running the marathon, I mean. I didn't do much sports when I was in school; back then I was ... not quite as strong." Pause. "Sorry, Steve Rogers."

As embarrassing as the situation is, it's just plain rude not to introduce himself.

"Thanks. And yeah, understandable."

Judith extends a hand. "Judith Rassendyll." Who knows if Captain America pays attention to things like who's the current queen of Ruritania, but he said his full name, so she has to return the courtesy.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Rassendyll," he smiles, shaking her hand.

The name isn't familiar, but he had been on ice for a long time. There's a lot yet he has to catch up on.

"Are you new here?" he asks, hoping this isn't her first impression of the ship and everyone on it. Then again, there's nowhere to go from here but up, right?

"Been here just long enough to get a proper roommate -- from 1820, I think they are -- and settle in here, so still relatively new, yeah. How long have you been?"

He arches his eyebrows, and his smile ends up a little more full-bodied than it was before.

"I'd like to tell you the time differences feel less strange after a while, but I would be lying," he says, ever the honest guy. And he probably knows the feeling better than anyone else on this boat, since he was dealing with timelines skewing long before he ever ended up here. "Me? Long enough that I probably should have known to stay in my room tonight."

He chuckles dryly, and gives his short skirt another useless tug. "About five months, give or take a few days. I think I was one of the first to show up, because the crew were a lot less organized for it back then. My guy, uh, my roommate I mean, is from another planet. So that took some getting used to."

"I bet that would. Major culture shock for everybody. Well, I try to be flexible, no matter what some friends of mine might say to the contrary."

"You can say that again," he says with a crooked smile. Steve's a soldier (and before that just another scrappy kid trying to make it by in a big city), not a spy, which means emotions pass freely across his face. That self-deprecating smirk shifts into sincere interest. "Your friends like giving you a hard time?"

"Well, one of them especially. And I'm not saying he didn't earn the right, but it's not really fair to go on about how I'm bad at adapting to circumstances just because I'm not comfortable in life-threatening situations. My roommate seems to be yet another adrenaline junkie in my life, but at least they seem to understand the concept that some of us are civilians -- with all due appreciation for those of you who aren't."

Steve lets off a chuckle, holding his hands up. "I don't exactly look the part of a soldier tonight, so you aren't going to get any lip from me."

And even if he was in uniform, he would still respect that about her. Steve flourishes under life-threatening situations, and always has; it's his inborn stubbornness not to let this case of pneumonia be the last, or that case of scarlet fever to take him down. He's just passed that bullheadedness on to other areas of his life. Like saving the world.

"To be honest, ma'am, I have all due appreciation for those of you who stay out of the fight," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He wouldn't give up a second of fighting for his friends and his country, but he does wish sometimes he still had the privacy of a mundane life, or the invisibility he loathed back before Project Rebirth. "What do you do back home? Other than run marathons."

"Well, you do at least have a helmet, should any emergency arise." Judith smiled. "And much appreciated."
Then she looked embarrassed. "Politics, unfortunately. I was a psych major, but I kind of got dragged into politics during my last year at ESU. Wanted to find some way to get out of it, but," Judith would be surprised later at how much she found herself opening up. "The tax system was downright regressive, environmental regulation was some kind of foreign concept -- and still not as foreign a concept as marriage equality -- and instead of wriggling out I started reading people the riot act, and then I was definitely stuck in it."
...As much as she whined about being queen, fixing even some of that crap had felt good.

Steve has a way of putting people at ease. Well, depending on the person. He charmed his way through life in Brooklyn, inspired a group of tired soldiers to follow him once more unto the breach, won favor as America's symbol for freedom, but he'd done it all with his fair share of split lips. He just chuckles when Judith jokes with him, taking it in stride, and listens attentively while she speaks.

"Politics, huh?" he says when she's finished, eyebrows arched. "We need a few good people in office. I can't imagine it's an easy job, but it sounds like you're doing it for the right reasons."

And a good reason not to get involved in the fighting. As much as he hates the politics sometimes, he knows what he does hinges on the decisions of those sitting in the big chairs, and he has a healthy respect for that. He smiles at Judith. "You tell your friend back home to stop giving you such a hard time."

Her change in attire hadn't fazed her as much as it should but when she'd eaten a piece of candy and suddenly found herself with the kind of strength that Steve had gained during the procedure, she sets off to find him. Carefully. It's a frightening thing to realize that everything she touched could be broken, or worse, she could hurt someone instead. She's still dressed in a variation of the Captain America uniform with the fake shield now strapped to her back since she hasn't quite been willing to part with it yet.

Finally, Peggy manages to locate Steve, staring at him as he hangs back instead of entering the room. For a moment, her own problems are forgotten and she can't help teasing even if she knows he must be miserable. "I didn't think you'd be so adept at walking in heels."

He jumps.

"P-peggy!" he blurts, stumbling on said heels. She had mused earlier about his change and growth, how he doesn't stutter nearly as much when he compliments her, so this must remind her of the good old days. Only with more rouge and less pants.

Steve could die. His 95-year-old ticker could give out on him right here, right now. The only thing that keeps him from crawling under the closest table is seeing her in that outfit. Steve's not a vain man, but she fills the uniform well. "You look incredible."

He realizes he's gawking, and shyly looks askance, turning even more red than he already was.

For once, Peggy really doesn't know how to react. It's tempting to laugh, not at the outfit but at how startled he looks. But she knows how embarrassed Steve must be and laughing will only make that worse. "I didn't mean to startle you."

There has to be a way to make this easier for him. It takes a moment, then she latches onto an idea. "It's very enlightened for you to try out a lady's costume. See what it's like for us to deal with the whims of fashion."

It isn't until Steve compliments her on the costume that she realizes how nervous she'd been. Barnes had said he would like it, but she still hadn't been certain. "Thank you, Steve." Noticing his staring, she gives him a wry smile. "Should I turn around so you can get the full effect?"

He can tell she's tossing him a bone, and he appreciates it, no matter how obvious it is. She's always been a classy broad, way out of Steve's league. So he lets out a puff of air, smiling lopsidedly, and drags his hand through his green hair.

"Well, my mother once fought to wear trousers. Maybe the apple didn't fall so far from the tree," he says, still looking a little miserable but at least he's trying to make the best of it. He rocks a bit unsteadily, and tugs at the (way, way too short) hem of his skirt. "I have a whole new appreciation for everything you can do in pumps. These are not comfortable."

But she's back to teasing him, and he's back to blushing. "I wouldn't want to be vulgar, Peg. I just meant you... you..."

He rubs the back of his neck. "You wear the uniform well."

When Steve smiles, she relaxes and a smile tugs at her lips. He might be embarrassed but he isn't going to let the situation get the better of him. "A truly noble endeavor.

"Tugging at it will only make it seem worse." That was from experience even if she didn't mind short skirts and had even considered some of the shorter styles she had seen recently. She's about to speak when that compliment momentarily distracts her. "Thank you, Steve." The words are a accompanied by a soft smile that few get to see. "Dealing with the heels takes practice but I'm sure you'll master it if we're forced to keep these costumes until the holiday is over. I'll help, if you'd like."

Noticing the blush, Peggy can't resist letting him see the full effect, turning slowly for him. "There's nothing vulgar about it. It is your design, after all. Or a variation of it."

And, she truly does want his opinion of it, to know that she hasn't accidentally offended even though she hadn't chosen the costume. "I've been hoping that it won't disappear when all this is over. If you don't mind me having it."

There's barely any hesitation before he answers. "It's as much yours as it is mine."

And he means that. Peggy, Bucky, the rest of the Commandos, Philips, Erskine -- they're all Captain America. Steve's just the guy they tailored the suit for.

Everything else she says just makes him all the more bashful. Jeez, she looks like a million bucks. It's almost embarrassing how he can't keep his eyes off her, and it's not just the suit, it's that smile she reserves for only a chosen few. The goofy expression on his face suddenly slides into alarm.

"How long is the holiday?" he asks. "I'm not gonna be in this thing for days, am I?"

Edited 2015-01-13 08:21 (UTC)

"Steve, it's not that simple." For a moment, Peggy is at a loss for words. She might have supported him, but Steve was the one who had given a certain set of ideals life. Even if the serum hadn't worked, she believed that he would have found a way to live to give others hope. "What I did wasn't as important enough for it to be mine as well."

Even used to having others give her appreciative looks, at using that as an advantage in her work, it's different having Steve focus on her in that way. It causes her heart to stutter almost painfully... until his expression turns to shock and Peggy has to stifle a laugh.

"A day, perhaps two. No one gave me a clear answer on how long this might last. I doubt anyone knows." Amusement quickly turns to empathy as she realizes what is commonplace for her is a trial for him. "I promise I'll help you with the heels. And the skirt."

He blinks, genuinely a little surprised by her words. He thought she knew.

"Peggy," he says, taking a small step forward (ignoring the way his heel wobbles). "It is to me. You stood beside me in basic. You taught me how to fight. When the project was shelved, you're the one who came to me; you're the one who convinced Howard to fly us when no one else would give me the time of day. I could have spent the whole war selling bonds if it wasn't for you. And you--"

He hesitates. He ducks his head, swallowing hard, and rubs the back of his neck to give his hands something to do. With a little shake of his head, like he's steeling himself to take that next step, he continues. "You inspired me to do better."

He frowns at his feet. Walking through minefields and parachuting out of planes doesn't make him break a sweat, but telling the gal he left behind that he loves her? His tongue feels like wet cotton.

He'd like to think that no matter what, he would have made it. Say Erskine had never see him that day, he would try and try and try again until he got someplace to give him better than a 4F. It would have been an honor to die for his country, whether it was out on the front lines or in some field hospital with gangrene. It didn't matter. It was the right thing to do. But he knows better than to believe he'd be half the soldier he was without the guidance he was given. Things could have worked out differently, but he's glad they didn't.

"That's what Captain America is," he says, finally flicking his eyes up to meet hers. She was important. She is important. And she always will be. He swallows again, and forces the corner of his mouth to uptick in a smile. "And I promise not to step on your toes."

He makes no promises about the skirt, though.

Well, Genesis certainly needed the laugh after spending the day in her own ridiculous costume and spending about half of that trying to figure out how to make the visor go up so she could see better. Seriously, this was armor? She had an ab window and her vision was half blocked! Or maybe she just didn't know how to use it but she wasn't used to this.

Also, it was glowing. Why was it glowing? And it came with a lance. A lance. By the Goddess, why?

Still, she knelt down, the metallic armor clanking a bit as she tilted her head at Steve. "I didn't think you were into crossdressing, darling."

There's only one other redhead Steve knows who gets the same kind of flat, annoyed look Steve gives her that's only ever half-serious.

"Uh-uh, no," he says, shaking his head. "You're at least mostly clothed, you don't get to laugh at me. Only the truly ridiculous get to laugh at me today."

There are a few noteworthy things about this answer. One, that Steve is comfortable enough around Genesis to be sassy rather than completely humiliated; two, that apparently there's a tier system in place for who has mocking rights, which means even in his current state Steve's looking out for the little guy; and three, that he has very firmly noticed she is only mostly clothed.

"Is that armor?" he follows, flicking a quick glance down her body. "There's nothing covering your stomach. I hope the glowing means you have some sort of shield in place. And for your information, I knew a very nice cross-dresser in Brooklyn. His name was Leroy. He gave me styling tips."

He runs his hand through his hair, which looks almost as limp as it did back in the 1930s.

Genesis gave him a sassy look right back at that. "I look like I came out of a fantasy novel, so yes, I do get to laugh at you. This is armor is the least practical thing I have ever seen!"

Mostly clothed was good, yes. But that hardly meant she liked her stomach being exposed like this. It looked tacky. "Honestly, I don't know what the glow means. I feel like I have electrical currents on this thing with how it glows but I honestly doubt it. And you assume I have something against crossdressing! I most certainly do not!"

She huffed and crossed her arms and would have looked serious had the dragon head visor not fallen over her eyes. She scowled and pushed it back up. "See? Impractical. Besides, I am hardly a lancer. I'm more of the mystic knight type."

At least Steve could sit down properly. Sort of. She wasn't entirely sure how to sit comfortably in this armor.

Steve can sass with the best of them and not tire out, but the longer Genesis goes on the bigger his smile gets, until he's sitting there grinning up at her like a cat who fell into a bowl of cream. It's difficult to say whether he's more amused by how inconvenienced she is, or more charmed.

"Mystic knight. Hey, I like the helmet," he says, drawing the visor back down over her eyes before pushing it back up again. Is he laughing? Maybe, but he'll never tell. "You look like you're ready to win Guinevere's favor from the king of the round table."

Steve's not opposed to a little fantasy in his life. The Once and Future King was one of his favorite books growing up. He kind of wishes there were more redheaded knights in it now, though. "You look good."

OK, it's possible he's just trying to get her to punch him now.

"H-Hey!" She flailed a little when he pulled the visor down even after he pushed it back up. She didn't not appreciate his laughter even if it made her smile just a little. Totally not a big smile. "Please, Guinevere has nothing on me. But I doubt Lancelot or Arthur would even appreciate me trying to win her or any one of the Knights over."

They were, after all, summons on her world. Summons were very powerful beings that no human, not even a SOLDIER, could compete with sometimes. Knights of the Round were quite legendary and Genesis was never able to find them herself on Gaia. But there were plenty of other powerful summons to be reckoned with. Bahamut tended to be her favorite.

His compliment did earn him a punch in the shoulder. "Says the man in a dress. You should really have that fitted to fit your body type."

Dylan had thought his costume was annoying. All right, it is annoying. But in comparison to some of the other people he's seen around here, he's escaped lightly. At least he's fully dressed and decent, unlike some others he's seen. He'd given away his coat once, only to find a replacement in his quarters.

There's nothing he can do for Steve's outfit, though. When he looks up at Steve's shout, he's about to volunteer but instead he has to pause, a moment, in surprise, before he can say anything.

It doesn't take long to compose himself, as much of a surprise as it is to see Steve wearing a skirt and with green hair. Dylan's not going to draw any attention to it. If it were him, he'd be feeling bad enough already without anyone saying anything.

So Dylan strides over to Steve, trying -- and not quite managing -- to look unperturbed by the man's costume.

Let he who is without blue hair make the first comment.

"I have some information I was about to act on. I could use some backup."

Don't get him wrong, he has as much pride as the next guy and being this uncovered is not a look he wants to be remembered for. It's not the dress itself, it's how little of it there is. Bucky always said he didn't have the good sense God gave a flea when it came to lying low and blending in, and maybe he's right. But if getting a square meal and helping some of the other people aboard at the same time means suffering some stifled snickering and staring, he'll take it.

"Captain," he nods when Dylan approaches, the picture of professional esteem for about half a second. "I know. I look ridiculous."

He can admit it. The naval uniform actually sits well on Dylan; if it wasn't for the blue hair, Steve would even think of him as looking distinguished. He shifts a little uncomfortably, and clears his throat. "How can I help? I think you know better than anyone else that there are some people on this ship who, if they don't get some real food, aren't going to do too well."

Himself included among them.

It's Shark who spots Steve first, and is off like a shot to beg for attention despite the shark costume covering his fur. Akito follows at a more leisurely pace, cautious as ever but more comfortable by miles with the knowledge that he has weapons hidden on him in case of emergency. He sees Steve though doesn't recognize him right away with the green hair; the confusion disappears when he sees the arms and torso, however, as Akito isn't one to forget an attractive build.

"Steve Rogers," he says by way of greeting. "Hi."

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[Ten Forward]: Halloween Plot (sneaking this in belatedly)! OTA

((edited for clarity))

It is perfection! :D

Re: It is perfection! :D

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Did someone call for me?

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