Peggy can read Steve well enough, even after all this time, to know that he's not entirely pleased at the moment. She tips her head to the side to give him a look that says that they're doing this for a reason, but then she's back to being the demure Mrs. Rogers, taking the champagne to give to the man, eager to ply him with liquor to start loosening his tongue. He's started to talk about some missions, but only enough that she's managing to get the names of a few towns.

It's helpful, but not enough. "I've always wanted to go to Russia," she shares, "we spent our honeymoon in England," she lies, fabricating it from the fantasy of what she'd wished that they'd done. "Perhaps you have some good experiences you could share? Lovely little restaurants?"

"Do we have the time?" he jokes.

"Always," Peggy promises. "We're just in town, you know. I'm sure if we run out of time tonight, you could always drop by our home, couldn't he, Steve?"