(no subject)

[mememaker]

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

Comments

[archetype]

[ In between here and there, it doesn't seem that Jarvis has suffered any trouble. (Unsurprising — he's good at engaging in polite small talk, in diverting conversation without being obvious. The sorts of things you pick up being under Howard Stark's employ and brushing shoulders with all sorts of people.) He has a paddle with their number printed on it held neatly in his hands, watching the auction progress with a surface level of interest that would never betray the sort of stakes they have hanging on tonight. When Peggy reappears, he offers her a smile and a nod, though he says nothing to disturb the ongoing lot.

The next is theirs. (The auctioneer describes it as an artifact from the second World War, a description that gets a wry huff of laughter from Jarvis given how serviceable but profoundly off-base it is.) The bidding, to make a long story short, goes smoothly. While the numbers are still low, there are multiple interested parties, but as the price begins to rise, they drop off, one by one. Jarvis doesn't constantly bid (he doesn't have to be first in line the whole time, that's not how this game works), allowing others to drive up the price and occasionally raising their card in order to keep the auctioneer's eye on them. There are two other serious bidders, two other numbers, and it's as it becomes clear there are only three of them in contention that Jarvis leans over, and whispers only one of the two cards into Peggy's ear. He doesn't explain his reasoning — much as she can't divulge her findings just yet, he can't be obvious with regards to his own.

Ultimately, he wins through equal parts shock tactics and through how much money he has at his disposal; the price is already steep when he raises it by more than three times the default increment — the pause that follows is enough to win them the lot. He offers Peggy his hand in order to escort her from the room (some have already left, so it won't be conspicuous if they take their leave now, as well). One of the attendants is carrying their winning from the stage already, bringing it around to another table set up by the edge of the room for them to choose to take it now or collect at the end of the auction.

Naturally, though, they're in a little bit of a hurry. ]

Shall we?

[revlon]

[ With all eyes on the bidding at hand, Peggy spares the moment to glance over at the man Jarvis indicates. Not a face she recognises, but that doesn't mean she can't file it away for later. Clandestine events such as this one wouldn't dare risk keeping a roster of who is present simply for the protection of everyone involved, so there's no clear paper trail she'll be able to track in the aftermath. Difficult, but not impossible, if the gentleman in question proves to be more than what he seems. Jarvis' winning bid earns a smile from her, modest and downcast but no less genuine, and she gives his hand a congratulatory squeeze when he takes hers to make their exit. ]

Well played, [ she murmurs as they circle towards the table to receive the weapon. The attendant poses his question and Peggy neatly intercepts it. ] I'm afraid my husband and I have the last flight out of LaGuardia Field tonight. So if you please... [ And with that, their purchase is neatly packaged and handed to them. While Jarvis handles the transaction, Peggy scans the crowd and finds their competition watching them. She takes in a slow breath and leans back in, voice low. ]

Mr Oh-Eight-Four seems a little upset. I suggest you hurry before he decides to do more than glare. [ And once they're able: ] Now put your arm around me and follow my lead.

[ Her husband seemingly steering her out of the room, Peggy guides with a gentle pressure to his own waist as she indicates towards the exit she's located. She hangs back a second to ensure they aren't being followed or seen, then she goes after Jarvis, picking up her handkerchief on the way out. ]

[archetype]

[ (If anyone checks the airfield manifests the next day, there will be no record of the Jamesons ever coming nor going, but that is not their clue to have to untie.)

As with the rest of the evening thus far, things go well. There's no trouble in wiring the money from the bank (through an intermediary source, Jarvis makes sure, in order to make any tracking even more difficult), no trouble in taking the case they are given and spiriting it from the room. He does as he'd told, winding an arm around Peggy's waist and letting her lead them out of the hall. He only lets his hand fall when they're outside, picking up the pace (glancing back once to make sure she's still with him) as they make their way to the car, parked a couple of blocks away. ]

He was the only one who wasn't considering the price before raising his card, [ Jarvis says, as soon as they reach the car, already opening the trunk in order to load in the case. ] Or at least, not until the end. But people tend not to bid like that unless they are desperate for whatever is on offer.

[ The trunk closes with a click, and, for all of his prior apprehension, Jarvis looks much the way he had after their first mission together when he climbs into the car. ]

The Griffith, then?

[revlon]

Not if we're being followed. [ Always a possibility but surely one with the man in question. Peggy hasn't yet noticed a tail, but she won't have it coming to a building full of innocent civilians, nor would she have Mr Jarvis followed home to Anna. ] I suggest we make way to Queens and double back, to be sure. [ She quirks an eyebrow. ] If you've no objections to driving across the river, of course. Darling.

[ It's all for everyone's safety, really. It's early enough in the evening that people commuting out of Manhattan would cause a good enough amount of business on the roads and they can disappear with little effort. Peggy isn't even entirely sure if she wants to leave a Stark invention in Jarvis' hands, trustworthy though they may be. They were stolen under his watch and what good would come of it being in his possession if he were ever searched? She doesn't want any of this pinned on either of them. The goal is to clear Howard's name, not give the media and the SSR scapegoats.

There must be someplace they can stash it. ]

So tell me what our new toy does. Turn you inside-out? Render the victim deaf? Make scrambled eggs? [ She tuts. ] Though I suppose if it's the latter, your cook would be out of a job. Or did you take care of that after the spoon incident?

[archetype]

[ Much the same thoughts are running through Jarvis' head. Considering how closely anything even remotely Stark-related is being surveilled, there's no good to come of bringing the contraption back with him, especially given the giant hole in the bottom of the vault. The other option — that it go with Peggy — is not particularly tenable given the lack of any sort of vault at all (no matter how impenetrable Miss Fry might fancy the Griffith to be). Then again—

—the echo of the pet name is met with another, single, dry laugh, barely a breath as Jarvis keeps his eyes on the road. ]

You'll be happy to know that the vetting process has become much stricter, [ he says, tackling the last question first. ] Mr. Stark does still employ a chef, though, needless to say, they are currently not at work given his ongoing leave of absence. As for our current traveling companion— [ Jarvis pauses, glancing back even though he can't exactly see through to the contents of the trunk, his voice taking on a wry note as he continues ] —it alerts one to the presence of unexploded land mines within a certain radius by detonating them.

[ They stop and start in traffic, city lights glimmering before and behind them as they pass over Roosevelt Island. (Maybe one of the apartments leased under a pseudonym, he thinks, idly. The device is hardly recognizable, after all, so long as it stays packed up.) ]

So, not a particularly dangerous weapon where we are now, but — not a pretty sight, overseas.

[revlon]

[ Oh, Howard. The things you come up with. She's sure she can figure out what good he meant to do with this invention, she's sure he never meant any ill will with it. Probably something along the lines of wanting to help London after the Blitz and finding UXOs so that the rebuilding efforts weren't put in jeopardy, nor were the civilians moving back in after the rubble's been cleared away.

If that were his line of thinking, she can't blame Mr Jarvis for going along with the assumption and stating the device's dangers only lie overseas — in territories that have seen active warfare, that would have undetonated ordinances. Surely there's no risk here in the United States? ]

Actually... [ God, but she does hate being privy to top secret information sometimes. Peggy wonders (briefly) what it would be like to go through life without a care in the world. Sounds dreadfully boring, in the long run, but she images it's rather peaceful too. Nothing for it now. ] A great deal of captured enemy munitions and excess in American inventories have been disposed at sea since the war ended. Some are... obsolete, unserviceable, or there's simply more than the military needs. Not just explosives, either, but chemical weapons. I don't need to tell you how brutal the past few years have been to warrant all that.

[ Peggy breathes out, brow furrowing. This is what happens when supplies overshoot the demand. It's a good thing, of course, that they haven't got a need for so many explosives. And it's a good thing these aren't as active a risk as UXOs since those are armed and only failed to go off in the moment. But she has no doubt that Howard is very good at what he does and that a little detail like armed or unarmed bombs won't stand in the way of his genius. ]

They've done it in Europe and I'm afraid here as well, so our coastlines aren't as safe from Howard's invention as we might hope. You say land mines but I don't want to risk seeing what else it can trip, don't you agree?