[There is a small bag with a couple of AA batteries hanging from the doorknob of your apartment, Quill. No notes, alas, thanks to Haven's ban on that whole writing shebang, but suffice to say, Captain America is thankful for the contribution of your music for the betterment of mankind.]
[ Maya doesn't have the ego to tell him that she can take care of her own damn self, thanks. Besides, the sudden shift in his tone is enough to take him seriously.
She steps up to stand beside him, casting a glance around. ]
[ There is a wrapped warm bowl of casserole waiting for Peter on his bed tied with a bow tied elegantly in the shape of red star. He meant what he said about seconds. ]
audio; several hours after jason todd's new abilities manifest
Pretty recently, I made the change from lawless, no-good scoundrel to savior of a galaxy. The benefits are a lot better, and, you know, I don't get arrested as often.
[ Peter notes the tone of voice, considers it a huge step up from the last time they spoke. For his part, though, he just sounds sort of-- flat. Tired, maybe. ]
[ While everything might not necessarily be 'over' yet, she's at least out of the woods. Even if the trip took a bit more out of her than she'd planned she's still in a better place than she had been prior; all the tumultuous should I shouldn't I, will they won't they really did a number on her mental health. Among other things like a break-up(?) and eating her friend alive. Literally.
Naturally, she'd been distant. Friendly front but admittedly keeping everyone at arms length until things were settled. And even though they're not necessarily, she feels alright. Relieved, actually, as strange as that sounds. Though she supposes most people would be after not selling their soul to an evil cooperation that gets its jollies from torturing ( mostly ) innocent people.
Anyway. She wants to try to make up for basically being the worst person ever for the past couple weeks. That's what... friends do, right? Make things right? Fuck if she actually knows. ]
I, uhm. [ ... This is a little harder than she anticipated. ] I was wondering. Is there any chance we could maybe go on another not-date? One where I don't , y'know, bleed all over the place and act all broody and mysterious anyway.
[ He's honestly surprised when he gets the call. Because-- he was sure Rosie was still avoiding him.
Which was her decision, he would tell himself, over and over. They're adults. Sometimes people drift apart. Even if they've only known each other for, like, what. A month? If that? And as interesting as he claimed himself to be, that didn't necessarily mean everyone was of the same mind as him.
(Those people, of course, are wrong. So very wrong.)
So. He's surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Rosie's a cool person. He likes her. And he thinks they get each other, which is why it was sort of baffling when she pulled a Houdini on him. Maybe she's just bored? (Try not to get your hopes up, Quill.)
When he answers, his voice is kind of-- distant. Distracted. Tired. A lot of things, but not unhappy. ]
Name the time and the place, Gorgeous. And since this isn't a date, I'll be there five minutes late, with no flowers and no chocolates.
[ So, Maya was thinking a bit more clearly these days, and she can only imagine the state poor Peter must be in considering how their... encounter in Haven North had ended.
So, ring ring Peter. ]
Peter-? It's Maya. I-- could you call me, please? I'm not angry, I promise.
[ It's been... a while since Rose had come to her senses. Once she had, however, she'd been absolutely terrified that she'd completely and utterly ruined her and Peter's relationship. She had never been the best at confronting her fears; she was quick to blame herself and decide that the other person would just be better off without her. As it's been pointed out to her in her time here though that doesn't really resolve anything. At least not for them.
So she decides that she should, at the very least, apologize. Even if he never wants to speak to her again, hates her for what she'd done (as he should, honestly), she can at least give him this. It may be no surprise that her apology comes in the form in song; it was what felt 'right' for them.
He'll actually hear her guitar playing as she starts to sing. Originally, she'd thought of going more "The Promise" but that felt too sappy. ... This does, too, actually, but it's Rock so that lessens it just a little. (Not really.) Her voice wavers on one part in particular- ]
I never really wanted you to see the screwed up side of me that I keep locked inside of me so deep; It always seems to get to me. I never really wanted you to go, so many things you should have known; I guess for me there's just no hope. I never meant to be so cold.
[ It's at least a couple of hours before he responds at last, and he's careful to ensure it's set to audio only. The bandage he placed over the bite marks on his shoulder peek up over the collar of his shirt -- he worries the sight might upset her.
After all, it seemed like not very many people were in the right mindframe during those several days.
His response, at least, doesn't sound particularly hesitant; if anything, he needed the interim time to compose himself, to figure out what to say. When a few minutes became an hour, though, and when one hour became two, he was no closer to knowing what to say than when he started. So he figured, To hell with it and finally rang her up. ]
[It took a little while to carve out and also to find the right paint color, but there you go. When Peter goes back to his room, he'll find something peculiar on his bed-- it's a wooden star, a little sloppily carved, and it's been painted a bright gold. It's obviously been made by a kid's hand.
Congrats, Peter, you now own (1) gold star, and are officially Star-Lord.]
[ The past couple of weeks haven't been great for Peter, which, well, given where he is, that's none too surprising. He likes to think he can roll with the punches, though, likes to think that he's capable of bouncing back from anything, but it's wearing down on him, lately. Too much shit happening one after another, and he's just tired.
Star-Lord is coming back from a trip in the ruins in Haven West -- he can't really muster up the energy needed for North, lately -- and he's about to flop into bed when he spots the gift.
He picks the star up carefully, turns it over in his hands like it's the most delicate thing in the world--
(because gifts are a rarity, and as improbably as it is, he's receiving them with more and more frequency the longer he's in Haven)
--and for the first time in a few days, he smiles. ]
So, Nightingale. [ Whenever he calls her, his voice is bright. ] You haven't heard if anyone's been goin' around, dropping off wood carvings, have you?
One would think that in that time, things would drift back and settle into normalcy. That perhaps the awkward incident in the Haven North library and the awkward incidents that followed would be forgotten, or perhaps at least laughed about. And then maybe Maya could move on, content herself with Peter's friendship and all would be right with the world.
If one were to think that, one would be terribly wrong.
There's still an underlying layer of awkwardness to their interactions, and it's made no better by the fact that they have to share a room. And through it all, Maya hasn't been able to figure out how Peter even feels. He's got a talent for avoiding her if she tries to press the issue, and that hurts more than she cares to admit. She wishes in the equal parts that she never would have said anything so they could continue on as normal, or that he would just tell her one way or another and they could abandon this awkward half-friendship for either a relationship or nothing at all.
At this point, she would take nothing, because at least then she'd know.
She's sitting on her bed, waiting for him to appear, because at this point, the Siren has had enough. One way or another, they're going to figure this out. ]
[ For his part, Peter has been struggling to convince himself that everything is okay. Nothing's changed. They're totally cool. Carry on, business as usual, nothing to see here, folks.
He's wrong, of course. And while he's a talented liar when he cares to try, he's terrible at lying to himself.
But he tries his best, because he's afraid that if he doesn't, then he'll fuck up their friendship even worse. If he acknowledges that nebulous idea of more, then he'll fuck that up, too. Feelings are too delicate -- they can be broken too easily; it's little wonder why Yondu pounded it into his crew's head to never get attached. But then again, Yondu probably meant to avoid having his crew distracted; he probably didn't mean for Peter to be so goddamn worried about breaking someone else's heart.
Because in a weird way, while he thinks staying friends is good for both of them, he's mostly doing this for Maya. Because he's a giant fuck-up, and why would a foray into significant-other-territory be any different? He'll screw that up, too. That, and he has a really bad streak as far as close friends and Haven goes, it seems. The people he gets closest to end up in storage, and who the hell knows what happens in there? He's a jinx; that's all there is to it.
He's not too surprised to find Maya in their shared room -- although the expectant look she gives him upon his entering gives him pause. It's why he slowly, quietly, shuts the door behind him before leaning back against it. One arm unconsciously crosses over to grip the strap of his knapsack where it crosses over his shoulder, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. ]
What's wrong?
[ Because the grim sort of expression on her face is reminiscent of a parent who's about to tell their kid that the family dog was "sent to live on a farm, where he can run and play all day." And Peter's kind of tired of bad news. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
delivery for one (1) quill, peter
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'Cause if not, I'm gonna be real disappointed if I spend all that time gettin' through those tunnels for no glitter.
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[ action ]
[ Maya doesn't have the ego to tell him that she can take care of her own damn self, thanks. Besides, the sudden shift in his tone is enough to take him seriously.
She steps up to stand beside him, casting a glance around. ]
Just what kind of "things" should I be expecting?
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Creepy crawlies. Zombies. Weird, fangy-things. I'm pretty sure I saw my second grade teacher down here, at some point.
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present; backdated to after potluck
audio; several hours after jason todd's new abilities manifest
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[ His voice is slightly muffled behind his mask. He pauses, then adds, ]
Why d'you wanna know?
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special delivery WILL IT POST
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[ There's a sound in the background, consistent with a tennis ball being bounced against a wall at a very precise interval. ]
You ever tried to switch your line of work?
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[He sounds determined.]
That is, if you were still interested.
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Depends on the job, man. And the payment.
What've you got?
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I found something for you! Now you can fix the big clothes and the picky women can't complain.
[She holds up a spool of thread and a couple needles.]
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Hey, you didn't have to do that. Mostly because I have no clue how to sew. You should keep 'em.
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For you, Cap? I've got all the time in the world.
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[ While everything might not necessarily be 'over' yet, she's at least out of the woods. Even if the trip took a bit more out of her than she'd planned she's still in a better place than she had been prior; all the tumultuous should I shouldn't I, will they won't they really did a number on her mental health. Among other things like a break-up(?) and eating her friend alive. Literally.
Naturally, she'd been distant. Friendly front but admittedly keeping everyone at arms length until things were settled. And even though they're not necessarily, she feels alright. Relieved, actually, as strange as that sounds. Though she supposes most people would be after not selling their soul to an evil cooperation that gets its jollies from torturing ( mostly ) innocent people.
Anyway. She wants to try to make up for basically being the worst person ever for the past couple weeks. That's what... friends do, right? Make things right? Fuck if she actually knows. ]
I, uhm. [ ... This is a little harder than she anticipated. ] I was wondering. Is there any chance we could maybe go on another not-date? One where I don't , y'know, bleed all over the place and act all broody and mysterious anyway.
voice;
Which was her decision, he would tell himself, over and over. They're adults. Sometimes people drift apart. Even if they've only known each other for, like, what. A month? If that? And as interesting as he claimed himself to be, that didn't necessarily mean everyone was of the same mind as him.
(Those people, of course, are wrong. So very wrong.)
So. He's surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Rosie's a cool person. He likes her. And he thinks they get each other, which is why it was sort of baffling when she pulled a Houdini on him. Maybe she's just bored? (Try not to get your hopes up, Quill.)
When he answers, his voice is kind of-- distant. Distracted. Tired. A lot of things, but not unhappy. ]
Name the time and the place, Gorgeous. And since this isn't a date, I'll be there five minutes late, with no flowers and no chocolates.
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may 8th ( ic ); voice
When's your birthday?
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Why d'you ask, Gorgeous?
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[ voice | a few days after the end of the February event ]
So, ring ring Peter. ]
Peter-? It's Maya. I-- could you call me, please? I'm not angry, I promise.
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In fact, it takes another day entirely.
And even when he does, the response is hesitant, like at the last second he decided not to totally bail. ]
Um. Hey.
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audio;
So she decides that she should, at the very least, apologize. Even if he never wants to speak to her again, hates her for what she'd done (as he should, honestly), she can at least give him this. It may be no surprise that her apology comes in the form in song; it was what felt 'right' for them.
He'll actually hear her guitar playing as she starts to sing. Originally, she'd thought of going more "The Promise" but that felt too sappy. ... This does, too, actually, but it's Rock so that lessens it just a little. (Not really.) Her voice wavers on one part in particular- ]
I never really wanted you to see the screwed up side of me that I keep locked inside of me so deep; It always seems to get to me. I never really wanted you to go, so many things you should have known; I guess for me there's just no hope. I never meant to be so cold.
audio;
After all, it seemed like not very many people were in the right mindframe during those several days.
His response, at least, doesn't sound particularly hesitant; if anything, he needed the interim time to compose himself, to figure out what to say. When a few minutes became an hour, though, and when one hour became two, he was no closer to knowing what to say than when he started. So he figured, To hell with it and finally rang her up. ]
Hey. Rosie. You doin' alright?
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present!!!!
Congrats, Peter, you now own (1) gold star, and are officially Star-Lord.]
audio;
Star-Lord is coming back from a trip in the ruins in Haven West -- he can't really muster up the energy needed for North, lately -- and he's about to flop into bed when he spots the gift.
He picks the star up carefully, turns it over in his hands like it's the most delicate thing in the world--
(because gifts are a rarity, and as improbably as it is, he's receiving them with more and more frequency the longer he's in Haven)
--and for the first time in a few days, he smiles. ]
So, Nightingale. [ Whenever he calls her, his voice is bright. ] You haven't heard if anyone's been goin' around, dropping off wood carvings, have you?
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[ action for 17.2 ]
One would think that in that time, things would drift back and settle into normalcy. That perhaps the awkward incident in the Haven North library and the awkward incidents that followed would be forgotten, or perhaps at least laughed about. And then maybe Maya could move on, content herself with Peter's friendship and all would be right with the world.
If one were to think that, one would be terribly wrong.
There's still an underlying layer of awkwardness to their interactions, and it's made no better by the fact that they have to share a room. And through it all, Maya hasn't been able to figure out how Peter even feels. He's got a talent for avoiding her if she tries to press the issue, and that hurts more than she cares to admit. She wishes in the equal parts that she never would have said anything so they could continue on as normal, or that he would just tell her one way or another and they could abandon this awkward half-friendship for either a relationship or nothing at all.
At this point, she would take nothing, because at least then she'd know.
She's sitting on her bed, waiting for him to appear, because at this point, the Siren has had enough. One way or another, they're going to figure this out. ]
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He's wrong, of course. And while he's a talented liar when he cares to try, he's terrible at lying to himself.
But he tries his best, because he's afraid that if he doesn't, then he'll fuck up their friendship even worse. If he acknowledges that nebulous idea of more, then he'll fuck that up, too. Feelings are too delicate -- they can be broken too easily; it's little wonder why Yondu pounded it into his crew's head to never get attached. But then again, Yondu probably meant to avoid having his crew distracted; he probably didn't mean for Peter to be so goddamn worried about breaking someone else's heart.
Because in a weird way, while he thinks staying friends is good for both of them, he's mostly doing this for Maya. Because he's a giant fuck-up, and why would a foray into significant-other-territory be any different? He'll screw that up, too. That, and he has a really bad streak as far as close friends and Haven goes, it seems. The people he gets closest to end up in storage, and who the hell knows what happens in there? He's a jinx; that's all there is to it.
He's not too surprised to find Maya in their shared room -- although the expectant look she gives him upon his entering gives him pause. It's why he slowly, quietly, shuts the door behind him before leaning back against it. One arm unconsciously crosses over to grip the strap of his knapsack where it crosses over his shoulder, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. ]
What's wrong?
[ Because the grim sort of expression on her face is reminiscent of a parent who's about to tell their kid that the family dog was "sent to live on a farm, where he can run and play all day." And Peter's kind of tired of bad news. ]
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