The music was uncomfortably loud. Swing had never really been Peggy's thing; she much preferred a waltz. However, 'Amelia Jenkins' loved to swing dance with her husband, so here she was.
"Ouch! That was my foot!" she hissed at her husband 'Teddy Jenkins', who happened to be as terrible a dancer as he was an insufferable co-worker.
"You're snoozing on the job Carter, look alive!" Jack Thompson ordered through his forced smile.
To anyone else, they looked like a young couple enjoying their honeymoon out on the dance floor. In reality, with every dip and twirl, Peggy was surveilling the room, scouting out exits, and counting the guards.
"I'm a little busy here Thompson," she snapped as she executed a seemingly effortless turn. "I can't count guards and dodge the blundering lumps you call feet." Just then, Peggy caught movement over Jack's shoulder. "There! Guards moving by the office door...only a 45 second gap. It will be close." She looked at him pleadingly, "How long till the next shift changes?" They had been dancing for what seemed like hours and Peggy desperately needed a break.
"Not for at least another thirty minutes" Thompson replied, checking his watch. He looked at his dance partner. "What'd ya say we get a drink?"
Jack's legs were tired. He had no idea how normal people did this all the time. Apparently it was even supposed to be fun. He snorted at the idea, nursing his bourbon. Glancing over at Peggy, she seemed no worse for wear. She was all smiles as she chatted with the bartender, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She played her part perfectly, but Jack still felt a tiny surge of irritation. She didn't have to make such a show of flirting with the guy. He took a large sip of his drink, shaking his head. Sometimes she just got on his nerves.
To be fair, dancing with Peggy hadn't been terrible. She was a pretty good dancer, and she fit into her arms - logistically speaking, of course - with her head tucking just under his chin. She even smelled nice, which is something he would never admit to anyone, but it made undercover work and long stakeouts much more bearable compared to some of the guys.
He had been a little surprised when he picked her up this evening. As a red-blooded man, he could admit that she was generally fairly attractive, but in the dress she had on right now, she could only be described as a knockout.
The dress was a crimson red, a perfect to match her signature lipstick, and hugged her curves before falling gracefully to her knees. Her hair was up in some sort of fancy up-do, but she had left a single curl framing the front of her face. Jack had spent all night resisting the urge to tuck the lock of hair behind her ear. With Peggy, sometimes even simple actions felt like playing with fire.
Suddenly realizing that he had been staring, Thompson looked away abruptly, clearing his throat. Annoyed with himself for getting distracted he glanced at his watch and realized the guards should be changing soon. Across the dance floor, he saw the man posted outside of the office door start heading for the back door. Right on schedule. Leaning over, he gently touched Peggy's wrist.
"Time to move."