When she wa addressed, Peggy squared her shoulders and waited for the woman to get closer so as to avoid shouting. The breeze blew and yet it was gentle on her, but it suggested that any type of recreational swimming was far out of season. That water would have been chilly, cold at the worst of it. And yet this woman didn't seem to be shivering. She had not been submerged within the depths for long upon observation. That was good.
"This place," Peggy began, her accent light but serious as her fingers tightened absently on the handles of her packages, "It's called The City. My name is Peggy Carter. Whom might you be?" The question posed was soft. Peggy's she's flickered over the woman and she found she could not allow her to stand there dripping with water.
The agent set her bags at her feet, knelt and pulled a fleece blanket from within one of them. Quickly Peggy rose and unfolded the blanket, offering it to the stranger, "Here. You'll catch a death of cold being as soaked as you are."
And then Peggy canted her head though she did not retract her offer of the dry warmth, "No. It could not be of Gods. It is an Engilsh variation, a man-made language. Where are you from?" Obviously it wasn't from any place Peggy knew.