just because she's on a mission...

Chapter 4

Peggy cradled a bag of popcorn and a large waxed paper cup of soda pop against her chest with one hand, holding onto Dottie's arm with the other. The giant tent was dimly lit and smelled of peanuts, gunpowder, sweat and animals. And I thought the men's locker room had a pungent musk, she thought dryly. They wound their way through the crowd to their seats. Peggy had bought the best ones she could afford, about ten rows back from the center ring, but from the look of absolute wonderment on Dottie's face, Peggy imagined she'd have been thrilled to watch from the standing room section in the back.

Dottie's face was rapt from the moment the lights came up in the center of the tent. She'd occasionally glance over at Peggy, seeming to need reassurance that they were both enjoying themselves. Peggy gave her several warm smiles as they watched one act after the next; the clown car filled her with awkward giggling, the elephants commanded the requisite degree of awe, and the acrobats actually put a look on Dottie's face that Peggy had never seen before; she looked thoughtful, seemed to be analyzing them, breaking apart their movements with her eyes and considering the physics of their routines.

"Do you like them?" Peggy inquired, leaning in toward her to be heard over the band.

Dottie nodded. "They're real good," she answered with a small smile, observing them with great focus. "The little one's doing all the work, though. You can tell he's the strongest even though they're trying not to make it look that way."

Peggy raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

They watched as the larger man in the sparkly blue leotard tossed the smaller one into the air. The crowd in the tent ooohed at how high he went. "Watch when they do it again," Dottie answered. "Look at the extension on his leg. The big fella is helping him, you know?. He's adding. But the little fella? He's already on his way up. He's really extending all the way into the jump."

"So most of the height on his jump is coming from him, not the big guy," Peggy finished.

Dottie smiled at her. "Exactly, Peggy. You're real smart."

*********

Dottie carefully pulled a few kernels of popcorn out of the paper bag in Peggy's lap, focusing on the show before her rather than the woman next to her. She delicately popped the kernels into her mouth, being careful to avoid them getting stuck on her bright red lipstick.

It wasn't surprising that Agent Carter would easily grasp the dynamics of the acrobatic routines. She didn't have the build of a gymnast but she was quite physical, and clearly intelligent, despite seeming to be fooled by this corn-fed Iowa act. It was almost a shame, came the unbidden thought, that Agent Carter played for the wrong team. Dottie had very little trouble picturing her in black tactical gear, charging into a firefight. The image was far more stirring than it should have been.

A little girl in front of them turned around and looked at Dottie. "How do you know?" she asked.

Dottie gave the little girl a vacant smile. "What's that, sweetheart?"

The little girl looked back and forth between Peggy and Dottie. She was possibly eight years old, with curious eyes and blonde curls like Dottie's. "How do you know that stuff about the way they're jumping?"

The girl's mother scolded, "Molly, don't eavesdrop, it's very rude." She offered an apologetic look at the two women.

But Peggy smiled at her, and winked at the little girl. "Oh it's alright, she's just curious. My friend is a ballerina," Peggy told Molly.

Molly's eyes lit up. "Just like me!" She grinned at Dottie and back at Peggy. "Are you a ballerina too?"

"No," Peggy sighed, seeming disappointed. "I work for the phone company."