Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (4)

As Litefoot ran in pursuit of the villainous cove, Jago rushed to the side of the prone Peggy Carter. He shrugged off his suit jacket to use as a makeshift pillow, and crouched down to check her pulse. Peggy came too as Jago reached for her hand. She pulled her arm away from him, a momentary look of disgust evident on her face.

"Please madam, try to remain still. You've taken a rather nasty tumble." insisted Jago.
"Who are you calling madam? My name is Peggy Carter. Agent Peggy Carter. I don't take kindly to being treated like a madam, I'm a government agent, not some sleazy Vaudeville act!"
"There's nothing wrong with some vicarious Vaudeville entertainment, Ms Carter. I'll have you know that I'm a talented, top-notch theatrical impresario and a temporary TV master of ceremonies."
"Fascinating, I'm sure" said Peggy, nonplussed. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a criminal to apprehend."
"I'm sorry, but as a gentleman, I cannot let you endanger yourself like that. You've incurred an incapacitating injury, I can't in good conscience let you leave here."
"Incapacitating my foot! I've withstood far worse torture than that in my duty. Not that a 'gentleman' such as yourself would care. You just want to play hero and dote over some damsel in distress, I know your type. You dinosaurs will always linger on, I suppose."

The verbose and vocal Henry Gordon Jago was once at a loss for words, his mouth silently flapping with embarrassment. Eventually, he spoke.
"My sincerest apologies if I have offended you, Ms Carter, it was entirely unintended."
"That's the problem though. The unintentional bigotry, the unspoken assumptions of our place in society. But don't worry about it, mister. I've long since gotten used to it. I know my place, but I also know my worth."

"Again, sorry for any offense. I merely assumped you might like some assistance, while my colleague chases down that cretinous cove who did this."
"It's ok, really. I'm sure you had the best of intentions, Mr...?"
"Henry Gordon Jago, ma'am. At your service."
"Hang on, did you mention a colleague?"
"Yes, a Professor George Litefoot. A most remarkable and righteous fellow, and my prodigious partner in potential paranormal perception, shady and sinister supernatural sleuthing, and generally investigating infernal incidences."

Peggy sighed inwardly. She hated dealing with amateur types, especially the fanatical ones.
"You mean to tell me that this Litefoot of yours has gone after the man wielding Howard's sonic cannon?!"
"If that's what you can the chap who barged in here with his stupifying soundwave generating gubbins, then yes."
"Well, I must get after them then. The fool is putting himself and others at risk. You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"
"This is not our first criminal caper we've had to sort out, Ms Carter. I have every faith in George. But if you insist on helping, I insist I accompany you."
"Follow if you want, just don't slow me down."

Peggy picked up her fallen weapon, readjusted her hat, and dusted herself off, before rushing outside. It seemed the trail would be easy to follow, at least. A rmtrail of broken glass snaked it's way through London, heading northwards. Peggy tore off in pursuit, with Jago scrambling after her.