Training Rooms and Cheese Plates

May 30, 2017:

At the request of Jessica Jones, Peggy starts to combat train Trish.

Trish's Apartment

A penthouse apartment with steel reinforced doors, a panic room, CCTV, alarm systems, an intercom system, and a doorman.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Jessica Jones, Steve Rogers


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Trish is pacing in the kitchen of her Upper Manhattan penthouse apartment Jessica had coined “The Lavender Fortress”. It had been a hectic day of cleaning, re-cleaning, and then cleaning some more. Not that she was messy per se. But she was nervous, and she tended to clean when she was nervous. Today was the day she was finally going to train with The Peggy Carter. The capitals were audible, even though it was a silent thought. Everything was impeccably clean, including the training room. The first scent someone would expect to catch upon entering was gym. Not necessarily stanky gym, but gym. What you got was citrus Mr. Clean with an after hint of Lysol. One could eat off of the mats confidently. Not that Trish would let them, but they could.

She is wearing Yoga pants, runners, and a tank top, with one of her running jackets over top. Her hair is slicked back into a high ponytail, which is bobbing furiously with the speed of her pacing. She’ll stop occasionally, to open the fridge and make sure there are several bottles of water chilling, both sparkling and still, and that the crudité and fruit platter weren’t spontaneously going bad. She has cheese and pickles sliced and ready, with several typed of crackers on covered dishes on the counter.

/She might want a snack or something afterwards/, she thought defensively to herself, as she checked everything for the thousandth time.

It was mostly driven from a place of wanting to thank Peggy for all the support she had given Jess. From what Jess had told her, Peggy was rapidly becoming the holder of the top spot on the “I Want to Be Your Best Friend” list she was compiling. She checks the clock on the wall, again, and resumes pacing. Again. She was going to wear out her runners at this rate.

“Calm down Trish. It’s a simple training session. You’ve had them before, you can do this without embarrassing yourself. You will not ask her if she is dating Captain America. You will not ask if she’s kissed him. You will not ask anything that is not training related.”

It probably wasn’t going to prevent anything embarrassing, but she’ll at least be able to tell Jessica that she had tried her best to avoid the


The Peggy Carter, as it seems she has been dubbed, has no idea the nervousness that she has instilled in Trish Walker by agreeing to help train her. Instead, she has listened to quite a few of her radio shows to try and get a sense of the woman she'll be training and read her Wikipedia page. She's a spy, after all, and spies do background checks. She wants to know a bit about the woman she's meeting before she does so. It's just lucky for her that with Trish, some of that is already public knowledge. She's also experienced enough to know that the stuff on Wikipedia and that the public knows is generally not even a third of what is the actual story.
So it is that Peggy raps on Trish's door a few minutes earlier than their appointed time. She's a generally punctual person and today is no exception. The door will open to show a Peggy Carter not dressed for a fighting session. No, she is dressed in her business suit, make up perfectly done, hair left down and slightly curled in something reminiscent but not actually victory rolls.

Smiling, she offers her hand. "Miss Walker? I'm Agent Carter. I believe we have a mutual friend, Jessica Jones? She said you wished my help in some self defense classes. And, as the cliche goes, any friend of Jess' is a friend of mine. I will say, I've been listening to your show! I particularly enjoyed your interview of the Mayor the past week." That is not just fluff, she really does sound like she enjoyed it.


Trish opens the door, takes in Peggy’s put together, professional appearance, and immediately starts wishing for the floor to swallow her up. Her smile twisted slightly, before she was able to catch it. Her eyes drop to the offered hand, which she takes to give an enthusiastic shake, after which she gestures for Peggy to enter. Once the Agent is in the apartment, she’ll close the door behind her, and tug at her clothes, wishing for Cindy’s spinning trick.

“Agent Carter! Please! Come in, come in.” Her cheeks pinken slightly at being called Peggy’s friend already. “Thanks for listening! We can use all the listeners we can get. It’s a tough race for ratings here in the city.”

Her mouth clicks shut and her cheeks pinken even more. Thirty seconds in and the whole ‘Not Embarrassing Herself’ thing has gone flying out the window. At least she’s avoided mentioning Steve so far.

“I, ah, I dressed for training. I can go change quick, if this is more of a ‘get to know you’ kind of thing. Can I get you anything? I’ve got water, juice, soda? Snacks? I’ve got all kinds of platters, fruit, veg, cheese?”

She stops rambling about snacks and rubs a finger over her lips, hard. As an admonishment to try and maintain at least a small portion of the responsible adult image she worked hard at presenting to the public.


As Peggy is ushered in, the woman smiles at Trish warmly. There's no judgement as to how the other woman is dressed at all. The handshake is firm, as might be expected from a woman who spent much of her years in not only government work, but in a very male dominated arena.

"Perhaps I'm old fashioned, but I find your radio broadcasts very reminiscent of home." There's a bit of an admission there and a smile to show that she means to say it. "There are times I miss gathering about the radio for the report. Your interviews and thoughts on the world are incredibly refreshing to me. I find them incredibly insightful." And, as a spy, she knows from insightful.

As she attempts to apologize, Peggy raises a hand. "No, it's quite alright. I came here dressed as I am as I wished to know which kind of fighting you wish to learn. I can train you as I did Captain Rogers, in basic gear and always prepared for a fight. Or, I can train you in the way you might be attacked as a woman on the street. I have brought clothes for both. Jessica did not exactly explain what it is you might wish to gain from these sessions, but I thought I would ask you point blank, rather than from word of mouth." She smiles, there is no judgement there.

"To be clear, my methods will be very similar. But, from what I have found, the fight rarely comes when you are expecting it and often when you are wearing heels and are tired from a long day's work."


Trish almost heaves a huge sigh of relief as Peggy tells her she doesn’t need to change. It brought up a good question though. What kind of training did she want from Peggy? Aside from the obvious answer of ‘Can you be my friend? I just really want to be your friend’. So far, the majority of the times she had need, she was not wearing her workout clothes. She pictures herself slipping on heels and getting tossed around her workout room and lets out a small giggle. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, preventing further giggles. She removes it and gives a little wave.

“I’m sorry, Agent Carter, I’m a little nervous. I have admired your body of work for a while and it’s a little surreal to have you here in my apartment. There’s nothing wrong with being old fashioned. I sometimes wonder what I’m going to do if or when radio becomes obsolete.”

She’ll replay Peggy calling her ‘insightful’ in her mind and want to turn into a shy little girl, complete with hair twirling and foot shuffling. She indulges in that feeling for a moment, before getting back into training mode. Or as much as possible, with one’s idol standing mere feet away.

“I suppose the smartest way to go is with the latter first. Because you’re very right there. I’ve never been in a situation of needing to defend myself in my workout clothes. Heels, every time.” Her own grin flashes back at Peggy. Her real one, not the public one which get practiced in the mirror, daily.


Peggy moves toward the cheese plate and easily plucks a pickle off of it with gusto. She loves pickles, possibly having to do with her upbringing. Save everything, pickle everything, prepare for the worst - that's what she grew up knowing.

At the mention of being nervous, she smiles. "I know this doesn't mean anything, but you have no need to feel nervous about me." That's a hollow request, she knows, be she attempts it anyway. "The Agent Carter you might have heard of is not me. I am just a woman here to teach you how to defend herself." She smiles easily.

At Trish's answer, she smiles. "Okay, that sounds good. If that's how you'd like to train, then please go get changed into what you would be leaving work in. Be truthful, I don't care if you leave wearing flats after working all day. Just, show me what you might be wearing on your way home."

In the mean time, Peggy will be munching on the thoughtfully put out cheese and pickles. They're there right for her! How can she deny them?


Trish claps her hands mentally, when Peggy moves to pick from the snacks she had put out. Now that it hadn’t happened, she could admit to herself that she was worried they wouldn’t have gone over well. Peggy tells her not to be nervous, which is funny since she’s usually the one saying that to her guests, and she tries to calm down. It’s a little easier than she had anticipated, since Peggy’s manner is calming on its own. She nods once, picks a piece of cheese up, and turns to go change after popping it in her mouth. She turns back to Peggy, still walking back towards the bedroom, and swallows her bite.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind, Agent Carter. I say something very similar to my guests. Jessica speaks very highly of you and I want to make a good impression. I’ll be right back. Help yourself to the fridge, glasses are in the cupboard immediately to the right, on the top.”

She turns back to her room, darting inside to the closet. There is a brief moment of panic, as she turns in circles, surrounded by clothes. /What do I wear? What do I wear?/ runs on repeat through her head, until she makes herself stop. /What you had on earlier, idiot, since it’s what you wore to work today./

It takes not quite ten minutes, but she’ll emerge from the bedroom in charcoal grey slacks, a white, button-down silk shirt, with a blazer over top the same shade as the pants. She has simple, black pumps on, with a modest two inch heel. Not the shortest pair she own, nor the highest, but they are the height she normally wears. Especially to work, unless she was trying to impress.

“It’s not exactly hot off the runway in Paris, but it’s what I usually wear. I’ll wear a skirt or a dress occasionally, but its slacks more often than not.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially, adding a wink for effect. “It means I don’t have to shave my legs as often!”


As for how Jessica speaks of her, Peggy only shrugs he shoulders. She's either unsure or uncomfortable with how the other woman has talked her up. Either way, she grins as she eats some cheese and pickles. How can she help herself when presented with such a nice spread?

Once Trish exits her room with her general outfit, Peggy nods. "Excellent," she says. As there is a room they are meant to try and and practice in, Peggy pushes the last pickle into her mouth and makes her way forward by Trish's guidance.

"We're not going for fashion runway. Just what you might generally wear. This might get torn, as a warning," she says a bit too late for an actual warning. Whoops! She did mean to say that earlier.

"This is all about making sure you can defend yourself while wearing heals and wearing partially restrictive clothes. It's entirely possible, I just want to make sure you're alright with what it!"


Trish turns on the lights and walks over to open the window in the training room. The cleaner smell hadn’t quite dissipated yet. She shrugs a little at the warning about ripping her clothes. She kind of figured that would be a potential risk, and therefore wasn’t wearing anything super high end. She does a couple light stretches, limbering up her neck and arms more than anything else. Her hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to wear them to work. Maybe a bit more curled, with some back combing at the top for shape, but a ponytail none the less.

“I kind of figured about the ripping. It’s like bruises, sometimes things happen when you’re learning. I’m not wearing any limited edition Haute Couture, so don’t worry about me. I know a really good seamstress, who can fix just about anything. I also know a miracle working drycleaner, so if you don’t have one already, I will get you his card. They pick up and deliver too, which can be a godsend sometimes.”

She rolls her shoulders and drops in a couple of squats, checking just how far she could move comfortable in the slacks. They weren’t terrible. Not exactly the tightest she owned by any means, but still not as great as leggings or actual athletic wear. She stands up and grins at Peggy to show she’s ready to go.

“Okay, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”


The evaluation is met with a grin. Peggy doesn't say one way or another whether Trish has passed it. Instead, she follows the woman into her training room. There's quite a raised eyebrow of approval as she observes it. Then, she smiles at Trish. "It's similar," She agrees.
She doesn't worry about at Trish. Instead, she smiles and looks about the space that she as been invited into. "This is a nice area," she compliments. It is not an empty phrase, either.

As Trish says she is is ready as she will ever be, Peggy smiles. "Good," she tells her. She smiles and then approaches Trish. "I am glad we are starting this," she says very sincerely. "This is a good start."

However as soon as she gets anywhere close to Trish, she will attempt a grasp at her arm and then a toss. She will throw Trish as far as she can toward the other wall as she can.


Trish resists putting her hands in her pockets, since that would put her at a serious disadvantage right away. She had been lulled into a false sense of security with Azalea, which had resulted in an embarrassingly quick loss. She tries her best to stay focused. Stay on the balls of her feet. Be prepared for anything. But she’s drawn in by Peggy’s demeanor and the compliments to her space. She’s very proud of her home and it’s a sure fire way to distract her.

“Thank you! This actually used to be Jess’s-“

Her voice cuts off with a yelp of surprise as she’s tossed by the other woman. The Krav Maga posters on the wall she’s tossed towards will give a large flutter, hard enough to pull up the bottom tacks, but not the top, as though someone had turned on a fan directly underneath them. Thankfully, it’s the only accidental telekinesis. She had been gaining control slowly, but still lost it when caught completely off guard like she was just then. She manages to twist enough to land somewhat on her feet, falling forward on her hands, ending up looking away from Peggy in a crouching position.

She’ll stand up as quickly as possible, putting the wall at her back, and assuming an actual ready stance, complete with bent knees and hands up before her. Her eyes are wide, a little shocked by the sudden attack, but a smile will play at the corner of her mouth. Score one for Agent Carter.

“Good one, Agent Carter. Very good job putting me at ease first. I’ll admit I did not see that coming at all.”


Peggy believes there is a reason that Jessica Jones asked her to help train her sister in a fight. She's not sure if the other woman knows her exact pedigree, but she was a part of Project Rebirth from the beginning and helped weed out each army recruit through multiple different means.

An observant woman, she notices the pull at the bottom of the posters - a strange movement for what she knows was a standard toss. She studies Trish for a brief moment, but does not say anything. Instead, she gives a smile. "I hate to say something such as this, but the truth is that if you fear for your safety, many of the people who will have to fight will generally be taller and stronger than you are. I can teach you to throw a man, I can teach you to block a punch, however your greatest asset will be the element of surprise. Training will give you the basis, but if someone manages to get the drop on you, that makes it that much harder for you to escape."

Her own stance is not martial, but her weight is on her back foot and she moves opposite of Trish as she makes her way about the room. "The fighting style I have to teach is mostly one of redirected force."


Trish glances down at her slim frame then quickly back up at Peggy. Taller and stronger really wasn’t that much of a stretch, compared to her, when speaking of others. Not always taller, but usually stronger. She did what she could, with weight training and so on, but that could only go so far. Her mouth quirks up in a half smile, eyes following Peggy’s movements a lot closer now that she had been caught off guard once.

“It’s not that hard to be stronger than me, pampered and spoiled thing that I am. So the more you can teach me about redirecting force the better off I’ll be. The one time I got to play with a biker gang, I was manhandled like a rag doll. If not for the Daredevil showing up, I’d have been toast. I don’t like getting manhandled, which is why I started with the Krav Maga.” Her hand gestures to the posters on the wall behind her. “The surprise of me actually fighting back against the one is the only reason I lasted as long as I did, I think. Had he been expecting resistance it probably would have been a much different outcome.”

She lets her hands drop out of the ready stance and straightens up. She doesn’t let her guard down again though, not wishing to be tossed again. Although, she’ll be reliving every blow with Jessica and Azalea later, proudly recounting how Peggy had thrown her, and bragging about how she had managed to land on her feet.


Peggy gives Trish a grin and a nod. The more she's learning about Jessica's sister, the more she respects the other woman. She was not lying before - she really does enjoy her radio show. It was something refreshing to hear a woman's voice on the radio with which she agreed so strongly on things. It was something about this modern world that helped steady her and realize the steps forward.

"Unfortunately, there will always be someone stronger than you," Peggy tells her with a rueful smile. "It does not matter how pampered or spoiled you may think you are." It's clear by her tone that she does not consider Trish spoiled. There is a respectful nod, again, as Trish explains her training. While not exactly familiar with the fighting style of Krav Maga, the idea of taking fighting lessons and taking destiny and her defense into her own hands is an action of which she eagerly approves.

"Surprise is truly the most equalizing action and training. Fight training is really only the beginning. It is incredibly useful to know how to throw a punch and how to take one, but your main assets are your environment and the ability to take your opponent by surprise."

As they circle around each other, Peggy does not seem ready to attack Trish again. "Your height is an asset," she tells her with a smile. "As is your frame. You should use that to direct all momentum thrown at you to the side. I'm going to run at you, use your training to deflect me." She does not run at Trish immediately. Instead, her position continues to move until, without warning, she flies forward at Trish.


Trish does her best to not let Hero Worship get in the way of learning what Agent Carter was teaching. It’s oh, so hard, though. Here’s the woman who helped found SHIELD, who was part of the original team put together by Captain America in WWII, and who lept forward through time into what must be a culture shock of a time period to say the very least. She personally could not imagine jumping from the morals, values, and fashion of the 40’s, and 50’s even, to those of today.

“I know I am, because Jessica tells me almost daily. Acknowledging the problem is the first step to recovery, or so I’ve been told.” She chuffs a little, amused at her own joke. Well, kind of a joke. Jess does tell her she’s spoiled quite regularly.

She winces a little at the thought of taking punches, another thing she’s not a fan of, but it’s all part of the process. And it’s not like a criminal is going to hesitate, just because she doesn’t like being hit.

“Okay, deflect to the side. Got it.”

She’s psyched, she’s pumped, she’s got this.

And then Peggy charges. Her first instinct is to squeal and dance out of the way. Which would have been so embarrassing and defeated the purpose of being trained. Her next instinct is to step forward to drive the palm of her hand into the nose of her assailant, which would have been extremely uncool, since Peggy most certainly wasn’t an assailant, and that wasn’t what she was asked to do. What she does is brace herself on her heels, as best she can since it’s not something she’s done before, so she can deflect Peggy to the left with a modified blocking motion. She wobbles and falls off the left heel, reducing the effectiveness.


From what she knows of Jesica Jones, Peggy also assumes some of that is some deflection on her part. However, she is no therapist and she's not about to comment on Trish and Jessica's relationship at this junction. That's not what she's here to do. She's here to teach Trish.

While everyone has their own style of fighting, Peggy is here to teach Trish hers. The manner of how Peggy generally fights is to throw herself and anything else about her at a problem until either she is able to escape or they fall unconscious. That is what she's here to teach Trish. As far as she is concerned, it is a skill anyone can learn.

As she barrels forward, she can see Trish readjust her reactions the two times and then attempt to block her on the left. With the angle and speed that Peggy is going, Trish does manage to alter her trajectory somewhat, but the Peggy does manage to get her arms around Trish and they both go toppling forward.

As they fall, the agent of SHIELD does nothing to cushion Trish's blow. But, as soon as she is able, she does push herself up and offer a hand to Trish. "That was good," she tells her. "You're thinking a bit too much, but that's what happens when you learn. It will start to come instinctually to you."


Trish lets out a whoop as the two women topple over, which turns into a pained grunt as she hits the padded floor. She had known it was coming, gravity doing what it does, and had tried to brace herself as much as possible. It didn’t stop it from smarting a little though, and she resolved to find softer crash pads for future lessons. She takes the offered hand and hauls herself vertical.

Her cheeks heat a little at the praise. She almost ducks her head, scuffing her feet, with an ‘awe shucks’, but manages not to. Just barely.

“Thank you. I’ll admit, I had to talk myself into not just dodging to the side. I guess that just means my flight instinct is way stronger than my fight instinct. Not necessarily a bad thing, just not during training.” Humor quickly fades into concern for her guest. “Are you okay? I didn’t squish your hands or anything like that?”

She replays the whole thing in her head and sees where she had definitely been overthinking it. Hero worship had won that round, it seemed. A mental note is made to send Jess a text, telling her about the whole fight or flight thing, thinking her sister could use the laugh. And the reassurance that Trish would not be taking up vigilantism immediately after this lesson.


As Peggy pulls Trish back up to her feet, she gives a bit of a grin. There's something to be said about an enthusiastic student and it helps add onto her own enthusiasm. For awhile she was used to reluctant students or ones that were required to be there. This is something different.

"Dodging to the side is a fine maneuver depending on the circumstance. But, you need to be ready for the possibility that you may need to physically remove someone from your path." Perhaps not as often as Peggy has in active duty, but it still remains as a very useful skill.

The question about her hands is met with a smile. "I'll be quite alright, thank you." She's not making fun of Trish, but the fact that she's asking whether she was hurt or not in the tumble is met with a bit of pleased amusement. People don't generally ask if she is hurt in situations such as these. They assume she is fine.

"Let's keep going. I'm going to keep running at you for a toss until it starts to seem like a natural reflex."

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