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electricity hitting metal

Chapter Text

The metal tube of lipstick twists in her hand and with a practiced flick, the powder compact opens in her palm.

Lipstick is scarce in the war, but it is one of the few perks to working for the SSR. The lipstick glides in a thick layer on her parted lips. Red and waxy. It is not the color of blood, but the red of poppies and Christmas.

The color of paint on a round shield.

For a moment, Peggy imagines the weight of it dragging her down. She presses her lips together and smiles at her reflection. The smile is sharp-edged and brittle, fading before it reaches her eyes. Her mouth a red slash against the pale of her skin. A wound that refuses to heal.

There will be no tears today.

There are no more tears left to shed.