rightfootforward | File #001 audio;

[She's been in Luceti for a day now. A day was more than enough time for the wings to stop hurting, the shock to wear off, and for her to find her old uniform and dress a little less like a girl on her way to primary school in the summer. A day was long enough to learn that this place wasn't entirely hostile and that it was extensive, reaching from the beach to the mountains and out until she hit an invisible wall that seemed to cut her off from whatever lay beyond it.

A day was also long enough to realize she was stuck and that the book was a method of communicating with others. People seemed to talk freely over it and she wasn't the only one arriving either. Captain Nathan Spencer, Peter Parker, Eugene, Sue Richards, Noel Vermillion - names that meant nothing to her, but it indicated that people came and went here according to someone else's agenda.

It hadn't taken her long to find the Guide, either, and after skimming through it, she felt a bit more...well, level was probably the best way to describe it. She's taken to hiding out in the woods for now, waiting to assess the situation before she moved into town. Now there was just one problem that remained: revealing herself to the enclosure and to possibly hostile elements. ]

As I'm not the only person to recently arrive to this place and I'm sure you are all quite tired of repeating the same welcome speeches, let me introduce myself and be brief about it.

Agent Carter, British Royal Military.

Any information not to be found in the guide already so helpfully provided would be appreciated.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It seems we're meant to believe it's all free, unless you wish to trade military service for it.

[One leg though? ...ouch. Although the accent is familiar and somewhat reassuring. Good to hear someone who might know home and isn't back from the dead like Mr. Barnes up there.]

And yes, generally. Although I hope they left you in better conditions than they did me.

In terms of physical condition, I can't say I've noticed anything more unusual then the wings and the tattoo.

[He catches himself grinning at the absolute madness of the sentence, and how easily he delivers it. Right, just a new tattoo and some wings this morning. Can't remember much of the night before from eleven or so on. But he's giddy, too, a little drunk on the luxuries of abundant food and unrationed hot running water.]

But if you mean accommodation, my friend and I both woke in the woods, bit of a hike from the village.

[That earns a soft huff of amusement. Anything more unusual, huh? Well, that's good to know.]

You seem rather calm despite this all. Good to see it.

It must be the steady voice of military authority. My tender civilian mind is put entirely at ease.

[There's a joke in the faux-dignified lilt and pomp of Jack's tone, but it's entirely good-natured, and he means no disrespect by the levity. If nothing else, he has to admit that Carter's being awfully clever about it, lying low and gathering information.]

. . . well, that, and I had my spot of running in circles like a madman yesterday.

Most people would be put ill at ease upon hearing from the military, I would think.

[Also a joke, dry, but not without a hint of amicability in there.]

All settled now then, are we?

[The military does some good, in the England that Jack is from, and the low laugh he returns the comment with communicates better than any words how little the thought of military involvement frightens him. He wouldn't want to live at Mullins Military Base personally, but he gives credit where it's due. The military is responsible for supply drops, loan of personnel and training . . . and Major De Santa runs the township well.]

Ah, now that might be awhile. But we're comfortable enough.

[It sounds a bit smug, doesn't it, Jack thinks discontentedly. Right, doing wonderfully, cheers! It doesn't sit right, especially now that he has so much more than he's had in months upon months. So it's with a leading sigh of audible discomfort with breaking what is probably some sort of military protocol that he pushes free of the conversational script entirely.]

Ah, here - Agent Carter - if there's anything I can do to help-

As much as one can be, considering the circumstances, I suppose.

[She sighs to herself, thinking of just how to go back to civilian life after all that. She may have been let go as liaison to the SSR, but that didn't mean she was out of the military. Drills, missions, the rising threat of Soviet Russia - all of it was still looming ahead of her and she'd been gearing up to start anew.

Now it's all gone again. And here she is, stuck in olive drab.]

A for help? A name might be nice.

A- oh! Of course. Where are my manners.

[That is a little embarrassing, needing to be prompted to even introduce himself properly, and he clears his throat self-consciously. Even if he been a little on-edge in their new lap on luxury, he can at least be civil with the people he does contact.]

Jack Holden. Just 'Jack,' is fine.

A pleasure, Jack. If you or your friend need assistance, I would be glad to offer once I find my bearings.

I'll remember, Agent. And you stay safe out there too. There's some questionable characters on this journal thing.

[?]

Such as?

Oh, just one that I've found so far. [His voice is stiff and brittle with angered false cheer, deliberately pip-pip brisk.] Charming fellow - quick hello and a promise of a messy death in the next breath.

Wonderful sense of humour these people have, isn't it?

[But good to know, time to take a note.]

Did this charming harbinger have a name?

Not that he shared, but I have his number here.

[Without being asked, he peeks back a few pages to the exchange in question, and reads out the number below the Robert Downey Jr.-looking bastard's barcode.]

[She also writes down this number, curious as to why it's hitting her as somewhat familiar. Odd.]

I'll keep it in mind, thank you. Should I see him, I'll be sure to exercise caution as well. [Or a swift punch to the face, either one.]