"Peggy," she answered. More formal introductions were abandoned in favour of grabbing her knife from the truck-bed and buckling it smoothly onto the belt-loop of her trousers. The cut wasn't terribly flattering -- but these clothes would serve her better than her skirt-and-blouse set better suited to an office than a warzone. Or what was once quite recently a warzone.

She gave her head a brief toss -- coaxing curls out of he eyes. "I'll come for a gander, if that's what you like. A look around. Have you been here long, Claire?"

Miss Dearing might be more appropriate, but it seemed a cruel thing to call a person when Peggy herself was so mum with her surname.