[ She huffs out a breath, almost like a laugh. She thinks about saying that these portraits, while perhaps not a perfect likeness, are in better shape than their living counterparts. John, last she saw him, had been run ragged by the past few weeks β and she's no different. They've had a hard time of it on the surface. The woman in front of her is more neatly put together than she is, but that's what leaves such a bad taste in her mouth. Then again, the projections would be even more jarring, so maybe they got off lightly. It is unsettling that they've paid attention to every detail β down to the Carter crest pendant she wears around her neck.
Shaking that off, she crosses the short distance between herself and Sherlock, drawn by his question. ]
He's a good friend of mine. [ She means that sincerely. John Watson was one of her first friends here and they've been through enough together to make that friendship more ironclad than most. Peggy extends a hand to shake; her left, even though it isn't her dominant hand. The other is still healing. ] Peggy Carter. You know John?
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Shaking that off, she crosses the short distance between herself and Sherlock, drawn by his question. ]
He's a good friend of mine. [ She means that sincerely. John Watson was one of her first friends here and they've been through enough together to make that friendship more ironclad than most. Peggy extends a hand to shake; her left, even though it isn't her dominant hand. The other is still healing. ] Peggy Carter. You know John?