[ He’s surprised at how quickly Peter’s breathing evens out. He expected the guy to just stare daggers at him all night, not actually fall asleep, but apparently his crash landing had taken its toll.
McCree is a light sleeper out of habit, so he dozes for an hour or two before his phone buzzes softly and wakes him. He props himself up on an elbow to take a look- apparently Athena found some things after all. He keeps the screen dim in the darkness of the room as he flips through a few articles from a paper in Missouri, featuring a less-than-happy looking school photo of an eight year old boy named Peter Quill who had gone missing. Presumably kidnapped right outside of the hospital where his own mother had recently died. His grandfather had been devastated, but the search died down quickly, which struck McCree as odd. Maybe something happened to the grandfather? Who knew, but that was going to take more digging than Athena could manage by just running a cursory search, so he lets it lie for the moment.
He glances over at the form of the other man sleeping on the bed. If he had to guess, he’d say Quill seems about the right age for this to match up, which meant what? That he was literally abducted by aliens when he was a kid? That he ran away to spend the rest of his life in space? There are some big old holes that need filling, but it does line up nicely with the pop culture references, and where his current events knowledge seems to stop.
Might be worth asking, but he wasn’t kidding about the trip ahead of them, so he sets his phone aside and catches a few more hours of sleep.
The sharpshooter rises with the sun, and starts gathering his things to load into the Jeep. Once he’s mostly ready to head out, he nudges Peter’s leg with this prosthetic hand. ]
lmk if this is okay
McCree is a light sleeper out of habit, so he dozes for an hour or two before his phone buzzes softly and wakes him. He props himself up on an elbow to take a look- apparently Athena found some things after all. He keeps the screen dim in the darkness of the room as he flips through a few articles from a paper in Missouri, featuring a less-than-happy looking school photo of an eight year old boy named Peter Quill who had gone missing. Presumably kidnapped right outside of the hospital where his own mother had recently died. His grandfather had been devastated, but the search died down quickly, which struck McCree as odd. Maybe something happened to the grandfather? Who knew, but that was going to take more digging than Athena could manage by just running a cursory search, so he lets it lie for the moment.
He glances over at the form of the other man sleeping on the bed. If he had to guess, he’d say Quill seems about the right age for this to match up, which meant what? That he was literally abducted by aliens when he was a kid? That he ran away to spend the rest of his life in space? There are some big old holes that need filling, but it does line up nicely with the pop culture references, and where his current events knowledge seems to stop.
Might be worth asking, but he wasn’t kidding about the trip ahead of them, so he sets his phone aside and catches a few more hours of sleep.
The sharpshooter rises with the sun, and starts gathering his things to load into the Jeep. Once he’s mostly ready to head out, he nudges Peter’s leg with this prosthetic hand. ]
Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead.