[ Her brows raise at the description of Steve's reputation in the future. It's not a surprise, necessarily, although she's sure he would be mildly uncomfortable if he found out — then again, he likely already knows. He was adored even at the height of the war, posters on walls, photographs splashed across papers, heroic in black and white newsreels. America's golden boy.

It's a wonder he's managed to keep a low profile here, even with his shield. But as more people from their world wake up, both good and bad, who knows how long that will keep? The same holds true for her. ]

SHIELD doesn't even exist where I come from, [ she replies with a soft huff of breath. It might almost sound amused if it wasn't so matter-of-fact. ] I'm afraid the answer is no, not in any official capacity. So you're right to leave rank at the door.

[ Peggy glances absently over her shoulder, then uses the mirror hanging in the display the survey the rest of the room behind her. It's busy enough that they won't be overheard but she does still lower her voice a touch. ]

You obviously know precisely who I am. But as far as anyone else is aware, I did my bit in the war and settled down at a desk afterwards to answer telephones. And that's only amongst the refugee population; the locals need to believe we're all native Nysans. Tensions are high enough on the surface without them learning their moon isn't a moon at all.

[ #tmw you reference star wars 30 years before its time ]