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Maybe you just need to ask nicely? You haven't even tried.
Edited 2015-01-08 23:25 (UTC)
See? Was that so difficult?
[ he pushes himself up, wincing when he pulls on something weird at his side. Those bruises are going to be a bitch and a half, come morning. ]
All you had to do was ask, Tinker Bell.
[ he pushes himself up, wincing when he pulls on something weird at his side. Those bruises are going to be a bitch and a half, come morning. ]
All you had to do was ask, Tinker Bell.
[ He presses a hand against his side, shrugging. ]
It's the please that really sold it.
And anyway, we-- [ He hesitates for a second before pressing on. ] --sort of had a shitty night. So. Rest is in order, I'm thinking.
It's the please that really sold it.
And anyway, we-- [ He hesitates for a second before pressing on. ] --sort of had a shitty night. So. Rest is in order, I'm thinking.
[ wow how dare you he sometimes has good ideas.
And honestly, he still needs some time to really process just what the fuck happened tonight. He's accepted that-- whatever this thing is that's drawing him to Charlie? Maybe isn't so crazy after all. Maybe it kind of has a point.
Because he really fucking likes Charlie, but it sucks getting attached because people live him. People never stick around. And they're meandering their way toward Earth, to get him home, so-- ]
Yeah, I'll be fine. Not my first time gettin' the shit kicked out of me. Definitely not gonna be the last, either.
You're good, right?
And honestly, he still needs some time to really process just what the fuck happened tonight. He's accepted that-- whatever this thing is that's drawing him to Charlie? Maybe isn't so crazy after all. Maybe it kind of has a point.
Because he really fucking likes Charlie, but it sucks getting attached because people live him. People never stick around. And they're meandering their way toward Earth, to get him home, so-- ]
Yeah, I'll be fine. Not my first time gettin' the shit kicked out of me. Definitely not gonna be the last, either.
You're good, right?
Yeah, I'm not goin' anywhere.
[ He starts turning to head out, but then as an afterthought, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Charlie's lips. ]
Um. [ He pulls back and rubs the back of his neck, heads towards the door. ] Get some sleep, man.
[ He starts turning to head out, but then as an afterthought, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Charlie's lips. ]
Um. [ He pulls back and rubs the back of his neck, heads towards the door. ] Get some sleep, man.
[ So sometimes life with the Guardians is rough; sometimes jobs go south (way south), sometimes jobs are just few and far between; sometimes they only have enough fuel to get them to the next station, where they're forced to split up and take local bounties and beat the tar out of criminals for cash.
Sometimes taking local bounties also means setting elaborate traps. Staging illicit deals or trades of goods; pretending to be some sort of hacking wizard to catch out some crime syndicate or other; flirting with a really hot chick to get her to bring you back to her den of terrors, then having the team bust in at the last second to arrest her.
A day or two later, and Peter's wrists are still raw from the rope burns. (Because for a second there, he honestly thought the guys wouldn't show up at all. For a second, he honestly thought he was on his own, and only realized, as the woman's knife was swinging down, how very screwed he was.
But Gamora swooped in, blocked the blow and knocked the woman the fuck out, and Peter had nearly kissed the Zehoberi once she'd untied him.
But he didn't. Of course he didn't. Because he's pretty sure Gamora would have gladly stabbed him in place of their serial killer.)
The only consolation is that they have enough cash now to take get some much-needed supplies, which the group has sent Gamora and Peter to purchase. Apparently sending Peter on his own for the supply runs is out of the cards after the last time he was nearly arrested by local law enforcement -- evidently, while the Nova Corps had wiped their records, not everyone had gotten that memo.
They're nearly done -- just the matter of picking up the last packages of MREs and various snacks -- when Peter frowns, shifting the bags in his arms as he turns and sniffs.
There's something-- salty in the air. Buttery, but light. And it's seriously familiar, instantly bringing to mind movie theaters and sticky floors and dark rooms filled with seats and watching raptly as Bruce Willis single-handedly fought off a group of high-class robbers--
Holy shit, it's popcorn. ]
Hey. Do you smell that? Please tell me you smell that.
Sometimes taking local bounties also means setting elaborate traps. Staging illicit deals or trades of goods; pretending to be some sort of hacking wizard to catch out some crime syndicate or other; flirting with a really hot chick to get her to bring you back to her den of terrors, then having the team bust in at the last second to arrest her.
A day or two later, and Peter's wrists are still raw from the rope burns. (Because for a second there, he honestly thought the guys wouldn't show up at all. For a second, he honestly thought he was on his own, and only realized, as the woman's knife was swinging down, how very screwed he was.
But Gamora swooped in, blocked the blow and knocked the woman the fuck out, and Peter had nearly kissed the Zehoberi once she'd untied him.
But he didn't. Of course he didn't. Because he's pretty sure Gamora would have gladly stabbed him in place of their serial killer.)
The only consolation is that they have enough cash now to take get some much-needed supplies, which the group has sent Gamora and Peter to purchase. Apparently sending Peter on his own for the supply runs is out of the cards after the last time he was nearly arrested by local law enforcement -- evidently, while the Nova Corps had wiped their records, not everyone had gotten that memo.
They're nearly done -- just the matter of picking up the last packages of MREs and various snacks -- when Peter frowns, shifting the bags in his arms as he turns and sniffs.
There's something-- salty in the air. Buttery, but light. And it's seriously familiar, instantly bringing to mind movie theaters and sticky floors and dark rooms filled with seats and watching raptly as Bruce Willis single-handedly fought off a group of high-class robbers--
Holy shit, it's popcorn. ]
Hey. Do you smell that? Please tell me you smell that.
[ Gamora would never be one to admit it, but even when they were scraping the bottom of the barrel, even when Drax and Rocket and Quill were being absolutely insufferable, making her roll her eyes and sigh in exasperation, she found herself oddly content with the new life she was leading.
They would do whatever they needed to do to get by, but even when things were really shitty, there was always a choice to be made. There was a freedom in that she appreciated.
What she did not appreciate was how vague a question Quill just posed. The market area was crowded, and rife with the smells of too many bodies packed together, various foods and animals. She has no idea how good or bad a Terran's sense of smell is, so really, he could be talking about anything.
She wrinkles her nose slightly. ]
Smell what?
They would do whatever they needed to do to get by, but even when things were really shitty, there was always a choice to be made. There was a freedom in that she appreciated.
What she did not appreciate was how vague a question Quill just posed. The market area was crowded, and rife with the smells of too many bodies packed together, various foods and animals. She has no idea how good or bad a Terran's sense of smell is, so really, he could be talking about anything.
She wrinkles her nose slightly. ]
Smell what?
[ He sniffs at the air again and-- and yeah, that's for sure popcorn. For realsies popcorn. He'd bet his life on it.
It's at about this point that his face splits into an excited grin. ]
Dude. Dude. We've gotta find out where that's coming from.
[ Peter shifts the bags around to free up a hand; it's a huge testament to how far they've come in their friendship that when he grabs Gamora's hand, he doesn't immediately fear losing his arm at the elbow. As it is, though, he starts yanking her in the direction of that scent. ]
C'mon, c'mon.
It's at about this point that his face splits into an excited grin. ]
Dude. Dude. We've gotta find out where that's coming from.
[ Peter shifts the bags around to free up a hand; it's a huge testament to how far they've come in their friendship that when he grabs Gamora's hand, he doesn't immediately fear losing his arm at the elbow. As it is, though, he starts yanking her in the direction of that scent. ]
C'mon, c'mon.
[ It's a huge testament to how far their relationship has come that she lets him grab her hand and drag her off. She's broken bones for less.
Doesn't stop her from sounding exasperated already. ]
What are you talking about?
Doesn't stop her from sounding exasperated already. ]
What are you talking about?
Popcorn! You don't smell it?
[ -- wait, of course she doesn't. She doesn't know what he's talking about. ]
It's a Terran delicacy. [ liar. ] It's like. We heat these seeds, right? And they just kinda explode into these sorta light fluffy, bite-sized things--
Holy shit.
[ They turn the corner, and they're greeted by the sight of a small stand with a multi-colored canopy. To one side of it is a popcorn cart, and on various tables are books and devices, clothing and accessories, and toys and trinkets that Peter recognizes as distinctly Terran. Sure hope you like being dragged, Gamora, since that's what's happening right now. ]
[ -- wait, of course she doesn't. She doesn't know what he's talking about. ]
It's a Terran delicacy. [ liar. ] It's like. We heat these seeds, right? And they just kinda explode into these sorta light fluffy, bite-sized things--
Holy shit.
[ They turn the corner, and they're greeted by the sight of a small stand with a multi-colored canopy. To one side of it is a popcorn cart, and on various tables are books and devices, clothing and accessories, and toys and trinkets that Peter recognizes as distinctly Terran. Sure hope you like being dragged, Gamora, since that's what's happening right now. ]
Edited (html!!!) 2015-01-20 18:23 (UTC)
[ She has a hard time believing a delicacy from any planet would find its way to a pit like this, but then again, she knows nothing about Terra, so she'll just have to take him at his word. (It really doesn't sound very appetizing, though.)
She minds being dragged just a little bit, and makes that clear with a loud sigh, yanking her hand back once they get to the stand. ]
The next time you see fit to drag me across the marketplace, I'd appreciate a better explanation.
[ And a pause, as she gazes at the various... stuff strewn about, all of it completely alien to her. ]
What is all this?
She minds being dragged just a little bit, and makes that clear with a loud sigh, yanking her hand back once they get to the stand. ]
The next time you see fit to drag me across the marketplace, I'd appreciate a better explanation.
[ And a pause, as she gazes at the various... stuff strewn about, all of it completely alien to her. ]
What is all this?
It's stuff from Earth. [ And he says it sort of absently, like he's still sort of reeling from the shock of it. Which he is. Because holy shit. He expected the popcorn, but all of this is a huge goddamn surprise.
He juggles the bags again to turn the knobs on a nearby Etch-a-Sketch. ]
Holy crap, I haven't played with one of these in forever.
He juggles the bags again to turn the knobs on a nearby Etch-a-Sketch. ]
Holy crap, I haven't played with one of these in forever.
[ She'll just... grab a couple of those bags from him before he goes dropping all of their stuff. She can't really fault his enthusiasm or his distraction- she knows what it's like to miss home.
She watches him a moment. The device seems rudimentary, at best.
Terran technology was... odd. ]
Is that all it does?
She watches him a moment. The device seems rudimentary, at best.
Terran technology was... odd. ]
Is that all it does?
[ He flashes her a grateful look when she takes some if the bags from him, and-- really, all he's doing is making a twisting line on the Etch-a-Sketch, so it's small wonder that she's not impressed. ]
It's just a toy. Like, you mess with the knobs and you make a line like this to draw stuff, see? But there were some dudes who could recreate the Mona Lisa on these things. They probably had a lot of time on their hands.
[ But then he forgets about that toy -- etch-a-sketches are dumb anyway -- and grabs her hand again to drag her to a different table, sorry bruh. ]
Oh, hey, we should see if there's a copy of Footloose somewhere!
It's just a toy. Like, you mess with the knobs and you make a line like this to draw stuff, see? But there were some dudes who could recreate the Mona Lisa on these things. They probably had a lot of time on their hands.
[ But then he forgets about that toy -- etch-a-sketches are dumb anyway -- and grabs her hand again to drag her to a different table, sorry bruh. ]
Oh, hey, we should see if there's a copy of Footloose somewhere!
[ Yeah no. She remains unimpressed by the etch-a-sketch. What is a Mona Lisa? Can you eat it
Aaaand then he's dragging her around again, and she has to shift the bags a little herself to keep from losing them. She tugs her hand away again when they stop, content to let him look for the moment. As she gazes at the various knick-knacks strewn about, she spots a little tin box, painted red with yellow stars, a metal crank sticking from one side.
She casts a look around and reaches to turn the crank. It plays an odd little tune, tinny, strange, but somehow charming.
That is, until the top of the box snaps open and a strange doll on a spring pops out.
She'll never live it down, but she actually jumps a little, startled. ]
Aaaand then he's dragging her around again, and she has to shift the bags a little herself to keep from losing them. She tugs her hand away again when they stop, content to let him look for the moment. As she gazes at the various knick-knacks strewn about, she spots a little tin box, painted red with yellow stars, a metal crank sticking from one side.
She casts a look around and reaches to turn the crank. It plays an odd little tune, tinny, strange, but somehow charming.
That is, until the top of the box snaps open and a strange doll on a spring pops out.
She'll never live it down, but she actually jumps a little, startled. ]
[ SHE ABSOLUTELY WILL NEVER LIVE IT DOWN BECAUSE GUESS WHO'S JUST.
LAUGHING.
This guyyy. ]
Oh my god, you should've seen your face! Oh man. World's deadliest woman, frightened by a Jack-in-the-Box.
LAUGHING.
This guyyy. ]
Oh my god, you should've seen your face! Oh man. World's deadliest woman, frightened by a Jack-in-the-Box.
[ Oh, she glares at him. She was really hoping it escaped his notice. (But of course it didn't.) ]
I wasn't frightened.
I wasn't frightened.
You were! You were totally like, What is this hellbeast? [ Maybe the words aren't right, but the tone and the change of facial expression screams Gamora. ]
If your hands weren't full, you totally would've pulled a knife on it.
Oh man, I can die happy now. That was great.
If your hands weren't full, you totally would've pulled a knife on it.
Oh man, I can die happy now. That was great.
[ It's saying a whole fucking lot about Peter Quill's luck that even something as basic as shopping can go so goddamn wrong.
The two of them were just getting a deal on fuel; Peter knew a guy who'd get them set up with a nice discount, and once that was done, they were supposed to get some parts for the Milano. Only that was scrapped, because Peter had the distinct feeling that not only were they being watched, they were being followed. And a quick glance around yielded a couple of revelations: 1.) They were being followed by at least two Kree, and 2.) Those guys did not give a fuck that Peter noticed.
So that was a bad sign. That basically spelled Trouble, capital T. But, okay, nothing the two of them couldn't handle, right?
Wrong.
Peter nodded Charlie into a side alley, figuring that if it was going to come to blows, it would be best to do it away from civilians. No need to get anyone caught up in the crossfire, right? And that was the first mistake of the day, because a third Kree is already waiting there for them; and when Peter tries to turn them back around, who should appear but Kree One and Kree Two?
The fight was short but brutal, and Peter's pretty sure they put at least one of the guys out of commission. Maybe two. But it was hard to tell, really, because suddenly there's a sharp crack against his ribs, then to the side of his head, and then the ground is rushing up to meet him, and he thinks he hears someone calling his name except it's muffled, like there's cotton in his ears, and everything goes black.
He's not sure how long he's out, but when he comes to, he's face down on cold, unyielding concrete. His head aches, and it hurts to breathe, and fuck, today just really isn't his day. Trying to push himself up makes him quickly realize that his wrists are bound tightly behind his back, and he distantly thinks, I hope this is fun rope, not bad rope, although judging by his injuries, he knows it's the latter.
Rolling onto his good side, he takes stock of the situation. Blasters are gone, it seems like. Helmet attachment and his jet attachments, too. Thank god he left his Walkman on the Milano, today, otherwise he'd flip the fuck out. By the looks of it, he's in some kind of loading dock. Ramps. Crates. Pallets. Carts. So that's a thing. He can figure out how to use that, somehow, once his brain stops trying to explode out of his skull. Man, this is gonna be an awesome story to tell--
Oh, fuck. ]
Charlie!
[ His voice is hoarse, scratchy, and he does nothing to hide his panic.
Shit. Shit. How could he forget? (Oh, right, he had his brains rattled. Still, that shouldn't give him a pass.) His body protests as he hauls himself up into a kneel, and he groans when the room starts spinning, trying to topple him back over. He can't tell if he imagined the way his ribs grate, but either way, that seriously can't be good, right? ]
The two of them were just getting a deal on fuel; Peter knew a guy who'd get them set up with a nice discount, and once that was done, they were supposed to get some parts for the Milano. Only that was scrapped, because Peter had the distinct feeling that not only were they being watched, they were being followed. And a quick glance around yielded a couple of revelations: 1.) They were being followed by at least two Kree, and 2.) Those guys did not give a fuck that Peter noticed.
So that was a bad sign. That basically spelled Trouble, capital T. But, okay, nothing the two of them couldn't handle, right?
Wrong.
Peter nodded Charlie into a side alley, figuring that if it was going to come to blows, it would be best to do it away from civilians. No need to get anyone caught up in the crossfire, right? And that was the first mistake of the day, because a third Kree is already waiting there for them; and when Peter tries to turn them back around, who should appear but Kree One and Kree Two?
The fight was short but brutal, and Peter's pretty sure they put at least one of the guys out of commission. Maybe two. But it was hard to tell, really, because suddenly there's a sharp crack against his ribs, then to the side of his head, and then the ground is rushing up to meet him, and he thinks he hears someone calling his name except it's muffled, like there's cotton in his ears, and everything goes black.
He's not sure how long he's out, but when he comes to, he's face down on cold, unyielding concrete. His head aches, and it hurts to breathe, and fuck, today just really isn't his day. Trying to push himself up makes him quickly realize that his wrists are bound tightly behind his back, and he distantly thinks, I hope this is fun rope, not bad rope, although judging by his injuries, he knows it's the latter.
Rolling onto his good side, he takes stock of the situation. Blasters are gone, it seems like. Helmet attachment and his jet attachments, too. Thank god he left his Walkman on the Milano, today, otherwise he'd flip the fuck out. By the looks of it, he's in some kind of loading dock. Ramps. Crates. Pallets. Carts. So that's a thing. He can figure out how to use that, somehow, once his brain stops trying to explode out of his skull. Man, this is gonna be an awesome story to tell--
Oh, fuck. ]
Charlie!
[ His voice is hoarse, scratchy, and he does nothing to hide his panic.
Shit. Shit. How could he forget? (Oh, right, he had his brains rattled. Still, that shouldn't give him a pass.) His body protests as he hauls himself up into a kneel, and he groans when the room starts spinning, trying to topple him back over. He can't tell if he imagined the way his ribs grate, but either way, that seriously can't be good, right? ]
[ Charlie is... well, it's safe to say he's not doing well.
Peter had still been out when Charlie came to, and while they'd bound his wrists, they'd neglected to secure his fingers. He could still cast, and then it was a simple matter of getting his and Peter's bindings off. Getting out had been another issue, with Peter down for the count and Charlie feeling rather like he'd been used as a pinata.
When one of their captors walked in and found Charlie up walking around, it had gone to hell pretty quickly. Charlie threw everything he could at them, crates and carts, everything. But while Charlie had a lot of stuff on his side, what he didn't have was the luxury of time. Spells any more complex than flinging stuff around took precious seconds he could not afford, and he was quickly overwhelmed.
He'd gotten a few good blows in, but they beat the shit out of him for it. One of them even deigned to step on his hands- the way they rest awkwardly where they're bound behind his back is a pretty sure sign that they're broken. He's lying near Peter, sucking in ragged, shallow breaths. His face is bloodied and bruised, and the rest of him isn't in very good shape either.
He makes a quiet, pained noise when Peter calls his name. Still here. Still conscious, but barely. ]
Peter had still been out when Charlie came to, and while they'd bound his wrists, they'd neglected to secure his fingers. He could still cast, and then it was a simple matter of getting his and Peter's bindings off. Getting out had been another issue, with Peter down for the count and Charlie feeling rather like he'd been used as a pinata.
When one of their captors walked in and found Charlie up walking around, it had gone to hell pretty quickly. Charlie threw everything he could at them, crates and carts, everything. But while Charlie had a lot of stuff on his side, what he didn't have was the luxury of time. Spells any more complex than flinging stuff around took precious seconds he could not afford, and he was quickly overwhelmed.
He'd gotten a few good blows in, but they beat the shit out of him for it. One of them even deigned to step on his hands- the way they rest awkwardly where they're bound behind his back is a pretty sure sign that they're broken. He's lying near Peter, sucking in ragged, shallow breaths. His face is bloodied and bruised, and the rest of him isn't in very good shape either.
He makes a quiet, pained noise when Peter calls his name. Still here. Still conscious, but barely. ]
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