log 009, filtered from Peggy

[thestarspangledman]

[Well, it took a while, but he's finally managed to figure out how to filter things from people and not just to people. Steve's place of choice for the day is the art room, settled into a corner with his sketchpad and pencils. He looks a little embarrassed, but -- there's no Bucky here for him to ask about this kind of thing.]

So, uh -- I don't know how many of you noticed, but I'm not...exactly a ladies' man. But I owe a certain lady a dance; promised her one back home, actually. I just, uh, want to make it special, I suppose. And there's no Stork Club around here to do that in.

So what I'm trying to say is -- does anyone have any, um, tips? For this sort of thing? ...Or if you could point me to some good music, say...Glenn Miller or Benny Goodman or someone, that'd be appreciated, too. So, uh. Thanks.

Comments

[lastmanstanding]

[She'll find out somehow. Amanda will tell her.] ...My mentor.

[long, long, long pause.] ...You could call him that. I'm not-eventually the fucker pulled one over on me and I...He was a fucking asshole but he helped me.

[His expression is stony when he talks, but then it gets invigorated] ...Are you looking for something to do? The Kitchens need people.


[Oh god man, don't offer the girl that. The sad part is Hoffman sounds hopeful and serious.]

[deadliestviper]

Ah. [Her lips go a little thinner, her expression almost wistful.] Yes... I know the type. What did he teach you?

[His earnestness takes her by surprise and she laughs a little, shrugging.] Then I'm probably not the woman for the job. Nothing good's ever come of putting me in charge of food.