The list of things Peggy was not thinking about seemed to be getting longer all the time, though it had not yet eclipsed the thoughts that kept tumbling around, keeping her up every night since the Quell's announcement. As much as she'd wanted Steve to come running- as likely as he'd been to do it if she even hinted at how panicked she felt, like there was a weight pressing in on her throat and making it impossible to breathe- it was a poor decision. They'd made a few of those already and there was no need to compound them, stacking impulsivity on top of fear, resulting in nothing more than drawing the wrong kind of attention at precisely the worst time possible.
He stayed put and she didn't run back to the Capitol, instead choosing to wait for the first messages to filter in requesting meetings and consultation, and then Peggy swept back home with composure in place and a ready smile for anyone avidly waiting to see if she'd go to pieces. It had never been a secret, how Peggy remained close to and social with her Victors, but she refused to let anyone see her sweat.
Bruce, though. She'd never worried very much about appearances with Bruce. From the moment she'd spotted him, clearly ill-at-ease and not entirely managing to conceal his distaste for a group of tittering socialites at one of the least appealing parties she'd ever attended on a Gamemaker's request, she'd found Bruce to be refreshing company. It didn't matter to her what he did for a living and he didn't seem perturbed or titillated by her role, and that was more than enough for her. Anyway, Peggy had always considered herself to be an excellent judge of character. Bruce was good people, if occasionally a touch awkward.
She smiled sweetly at the hostess intent on walking her through the restaurant, as if she couldn't find her own way, and touched Bruce's shoulder on her way around the table. "Bruce. I'm so pleased to see you," Peggy greeted. It was the first time all day she'd been able to say that genuinely.