[ gamora rolls her eyes, but she doesn't seem to feel the need to press. she's seen the way he's improved since the injury, and she knows that he's come farther with his training to get back up to speed.
(but she's also seen the way he falters if he pushes too much, if he moves wrong, if he fails to avoid a strike that comes down on the side where he'd taken the bullet. she tries to avoid it when they spar, but sometimes, he ducks when he should have dived, and her forearm will catch him in exactly the wrong place.
however, she knows it's nowhere near bad enough to keep him out of commission anymore.)
she stays pressed against his side as they navigate the party, and she keeps her attention on the room at large. it's filled with xandarians, kree, and other various allied species, all dressed to the nines as they mingle and chatter and dance. there's a live band playing, and the music fills the incredibly large hall, spilling into the rest of the building as the sound is amplified. gamora glances curiously to the dancefloor itself, her mind drawn back to thoughts of nerian-6, but this is different. this isn't one of their outings and days of exploration; this is work, and they have to remain vigilant for signs of the kree terrorists who could easily make an appearance at any time.
the comm in her ear crackles softly, a tiny, squeaked out "i am groot!" and some shifting around, a little scuffling, closely followed by, "what're you— dude, no, would you just leave that in my— get your frickin' fingers outta my ear!"
gamora keeps her expression impassive, but she gives a small sigh. ]
[ Peter smothers his snort of laughter as Rocket and Groot’s voices sound out over the comms. He’s missed this, if he’s honest, the reasonably controlled chaos of their jobs. And, yeah, Gamora’s sarcasm probably isn’t too misplaced, considering who they are and how they work, but Peter has faith in them. Everyone tends to pull through when they need it most. ]
It’ll be fine.
[ And he smiles at her reassuringly, before moving further into what would probably be called the ballroom. ]
If we’re lucky, the Nova Corps will stop anything before it starts, and we won’t even have to do anything.
[ Because as boring as that’d be, they’re still getting paid – and a relatively handsome sum at that. ]
While that would make this far easier, it means I'll be wearing this dress for no reason.
[ because she doesn't just go out in extravagant dresses for the hell of it.
she keeps looking around the guests and the room itself, but she tries to be subtle about it, to just let her eyes flick from place to place. she's analyzing the exits, the most exposed areas, looking for strategic weaknesses. remaining vigilant is crucial, after all, and the last thing she wants is for one of the terrorists to slip her notice and make the wrong kind of move.
(more precisely: the last thing she wants is a repeat of the market.) ]
Not for no reason. [ Light, breezy, as he scans the area. ] You look—
[ amazing. beautiful. gorgeous. ]
—good.
[ Peter’s own examination of the room is nowhere near as thorough – mostly he’s picking out where the refreshments are, picking out people he recognizes, either from campaign posters or from the news, or from back when he worked with the Ravagers, and legitimate folks had need of the service of mercenaries.
(Those that he remembers, Peter gives them a quick wink and a winning smile, though they quickly and awkwardly turn away.) ]
So. [ He asks it in a whisper, guiding them around the edges of the room. ] If I were a sociopath with a chip in his shoulder who wanted to sow chaos and destruction, I’d set up a bomb somewhere. Maybe a couple.
I wouldn't say that looking good is reason enough.
[ she'd be much more comfortable in, for example, pants.
but she lets peter dictate where they wander, trying to look as casual as possible. fortunately, they aren't approached (probably because gamora doesn't exactly radiate "yes, please come have a conversation with me"), and it makes it easier to move around the area, to step just a little farther outside the gaggle of minglers. ]
That would be much easier for them to accomplish, yes. I'm sure they would find it preferable to set it and leave, observe from afar.
[ which is why having the other guardians making the rounds outside the building and the general bustle of the party is more ideal. ]
Somewhere more centralized would maximize the damage.
[ For as approachable as Peter tends to be, having Gamora at his side wards off almost everyone. Having a galaxy-renowned (feared) assassin kind of does that, and if he's honest, he'd rather not talk to anyone here, anyway. Because conversations among the elite always boil down to That Day in Xandar, facing Ronan and doing the Running Man to distract him.
(And the Infinity Stone. And the pain. And that for a second, there, Peter was all too happy to let it rip him asunder if it meant an end to the pain.
Which doesn't make for good dinner conversation.)
He plucks up a glass of wine from a passing waitress – a pretty Krylorian woman with eyes as wide as saucers as she drifts pass the both of them, staring. Peter winks at her, smiling crookedly, and the woman blushes as she hurries away, smothering a laugh. ]
That means we should look around, then. [ As if that entire exchange never happened. ] See if there's anything in here that they might've missed.
[ gamora doesn't seem inclined to help herself to the wine, but she also doesn't begrudge peter indulging — because she at least trusts him to keep a level head for the remainder of the job.
...well, she trusts him not to be distracted by alcohol, but attractive women, on the other hand...
once the kyrlorian is out of earshot, gamora just nods in agreement. ]
As long as that otherwise does not involve flirting with the waitstaff, I think that would be our best option.
[ and the sarcasm is back, but she still keeps her gaze in motion, looking for anything that seemed out of place. ]
[ he earns an eyeroll for that, but gamora doesn't take the time to argue with him about his "magnetic personality." instead, she finally pulls her eyes away from the hall, meeting peter's gaze. ]
I don't want to leave us exposed.
[ she doesn't want to miss anything that could prove to be dangerous.
(that could put them in a situation like the marketplace again.) ]
And besides, this— [ she gestures vaguely with a flick of her hand. ] —is not my idea of an enjoyable evening.
[ she feels out of place, out of her element, and adding that to the fact that they're working a job and dealing with the same kree terrorists from before...
And I need longer to determine whether or not this is something I like?
[ but then peter gives her that look, that big smile, and he's on the move again. gamora opens her mouth to ask where they're going, but then realizes—
of course he's tugging her towards the dance floor. of course he is. ]
Quill.
[ short, warning, but she isn't digging in her heels or dropping his arm, instead going right along with him. ]
Don't you think this will be more of a distraction than actually beneficial?
[ gamora looks like she's genuinely considering his reasoning, and she's willing to concede that the dancing will cover up some of their efforts to get a look at the hall; while being in more constant motion, looking around seems less conspicuous — and there's a much more expansive vantage point from the center of the party. ]
...all right.
[ and because a quiet, very subdued part of her thinks that she'd like to revisit dancing with him, given that she hasn't had the chance since that evening on the ship.
[ He pauses midstep, turning to her and blinking. Truthfully, he had expected her to say no outright, to pull away and insist on lurking in dark hallways or something, but—
This is a surprise.
And his smile slowly spreads. ]
Really?
[ But apparently he doesn't see reason to tempt fate by waiting for an answer, so he carefully maneuvers them through the crowd and onto the dance floor.
The other dancers are doing little more than quietly swaying. Nothing fancy, thankfully, and the two of them easily slip into the crowd, claiming a space for themselves somewhere in the middle. He takes her hand, presses his other hand against her back, and moves to the music.
Sure enough, the dance floor does provide a clear view of most of the room, and scanning the area from here isn't nearly as conspicuous as standing in corners and searching. The quiet murmur of conversation surrounds them, and while Peter listens for a few seconds, nothing stands out. Business propositions and thoughts on the current political climate, and really a whole lot of shit Peter doesn't care about, so he tunes it out.
[ the dancing itself isn't demanding, more of a gentle motion than anything — especially compared to the slightly faster moves she'd attempted with peter before. this is simple, and the only thing about it that gives her pause is the fact that they aren't alone; she's never danced in front of others before, and only ever with peter for company. the part of her that still prickles with that need to maintain an air of unshakable, unaffected deadliness quails at the idea of being seen like this, but she forces it down, quiets it in favor of focusing on their surroundings.
(on peter's hand in hers, on the splay of his fingers on the bare skin of her back.)
the murmur of voices around them doesn't prove to be useful, yet, but the vantage is much more appealing than peering around from the fringes of the room.
...she'll at least give him that.
but when he speaks up again, his phrasing has her leveling him with one of those flat, somewhat exasperated looks. ]
Perhaps I should investigate that hall to our left instead.
[ but she's not stepping away from him as her hand stays in his, her other resting on his shoulder with her thumb brushing against skin where his neck meets the collar of his shirt. ]
[ She— probably doesn't mean to do that on purpose, brush against his bare skin like that, and it takes him a second to find his voice. Mostly he wants to make sure he doesn't sound like a complete dweeb when he speaks. ]
I mean, if you wanted to sneak off with me into a dark corner, you only have to ask.
What about a code phrase? Like, "Quill's an idiot, pass it on."
[ and there's that weird hissing laugh on rocket's end of the comm.
gamora just sighs, minutely shaking her head. ]
This is neither the time nor the place. If something requires attention, say so; we don't need code words.
No, but really, what about code phr—
Or phrases.
I seriously think we could—
Enough.
[ short, quiet because of the still-dancing couples around them, but sharp nonetheless.
there's some muttering on the other end of the comm, but nothing that gamora can pick out, so it seems that rocket is content to adhere to the call for radio silence.
[ The insult garners a quick, annoyed, "Hey," from Peter, but any arguments that might have sparked from the exchange are interrupted by Gamora's voice.
What follows is a few seconds of awkward silence, with everyone properly chagrined, Peter included. Eventually, he ventures quietly, ]
[ the comm line stays quiet for another beat, and then: ]
Dude on your guys' left — that shifty Kree in the red fancy suit thing. He keeps edgin' towards the stage.
[ gamora follows rocket's direction, her eyes falling on the kree as she and peter continue the quiet pace of the dance. she subtly nods towards the man, as she looks from the kree to peter and back again. ]
I see him.
[ the kree has his hand in his pocket, fiddling with something as he keeps moving closer to where the live band has been situated in the hall. he looks nervous, antsy almost in the way he rocks on his heels, pausing in between each measured approach to the stage. ]
[ Peter turns them slightly when Rocket points the man out, offering himself a slightly better view of the Kree. He frowns a little, murmurs, ]
Maybe he just wants to give them his demo tape.
[ Though even as he says it, he maneuvers the two of them slowly toward the stage – keeping in time with the music, unhurried so as not to draw attention. ]
[ gamora follows peter's lead, making the transition from one location to the next remarkably smooth in the slow sway of the dance; gamora has improved, after all, and there's more of an unhurried grace in the way she moves with peter (even managing to avoid stepping on his toes).
they draw closer, and gamora watches as the kree pulls something small from his pocket. she tenses, and her voice is still low, soft enough just for peter and the others over the comm. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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(but she's also seen the way he falters if he pushes too much, if he moves wrong, if he fails to avoid a strike that comes down on the side where he'd taken the bullet. she tries to avoid it when they spar, but sometimes, he ducks when he should have dived, and her forearm will catch him in exactly the wrong place.
however, she knows it's nowhere near bad enough to keep him out of commission anymore.)
she stays pressed against his side as they navigate the party, and she keeps her attention on the room at large. it's filled with xandarians, kree, and other various allied species, all dressed to the nines as they mingle and chatter and dance. there's a live band playing, and the music fills the incredibly large hall, spilling into the rest of the building as the sound is amplified. gamora glances curiously to the dancefloor itself, her mind drawn back to thoughts of nerian-6, but this is different. this isn't one of their outings and days of exploration; this is work, and they have to remain vigilant for signs of the kree terrorists who could easily make an appearance at any time.
the comm in her ear crackles softly, a tiny, squeaked out "i am groot!" and some shifting around, a little scuffling, closely followed by, "what're you— dude, no, would you just leave that in my— get your frickin' fingers outta my ear!"
gamora keeps her expression impassive, but she gives a small sigh. ]
This will go well.
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It’ll be fine.
[ And he smiles at her reassuringly, before moving further into what would probably be called the ballroom. ]
If we’re lucky, the Nova Corps will stop anything before it starts, and we won’t even have to do anything.
[ Because as boring as that’d be, they’re still getting paid – and a relatively handsome sum at that. ]
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While that would make this far easier, it means I'll be wearing this dress for no reason.
[ because she doesn't just go out in extravagant dresses for the hell of it.
she keeps looking around the guests and the room itself, but she tries to be subtle about it, to just let her eyes flick from place to place. she's analyzing the exits, the most exposed areas, looking for strategic weaknesses. remaining vigilant is crucial, after all, and the last thing she wants is for one of the terrorists to slip her notice and make the wrong kind of move.
(more precisely: the last thing she wants is a repeat of the market.) ]
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[ amazing. beautiful. gorgeous. ]
—good.
[ Peter’s own examination of the room is nowhere near as thorough – mostly he’s picking out where the refreshments are, picking out people he recognizes, either from campaign posters or from the news, or from back when he worked with the Ravagers, and legitimate folks had need of the service of mercenaries.
(Those that he remembers, Peter gives them a quick wink and a winning smile, though they quickly and awkwardly turn away.) ]
So. [ He asks it in a whisper, guiding them around the edges of the room. ] If I were a sociopath with a chip in his shoulder who wanted to sow chaos and destruction, I’d set up a bomb somewhere. Maybe a couple.
no subject
[ she'd be much more comfortable in, for example, pants.
but she lets peter dictate where they wander, trying to look as casual as possible. fortunately, they aren't approached (probably because gamora doesn't exactly radiate "yes, please come have a conversation with me"), and it makes it easier to move around the area, to step just a little farther outside the gaggle of minglers. ]
That would be much easier for them to accomplish, yes. I'm sure they would find it preferable to set it and leave, observe from afar.
[ which is why having the other guardians making the rounds outside the building and the general bustle of the party is more ideal. ]
Somewhere more centralized would maximize the damage.
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(And the Infinity Stone. And the pain. And that for a second, there, Peter was all too happy to let it rip him asunder if it meant an end to the pain.
Which doesn't make for good dinner conversation.)
He plucks up a glass of wine from a passing waitress – a pretty Krylorian woman with eyes as wide as saucers as she drifts pass the both of them, staring. Peter winks at her, smiling crookedly, and the woman blushes as she hurries away, smothering a laugh. ]
That means we should look around, then. [ As if that entire exchange never happened. ] See if there's anything in here that they might've missed.
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...well, she trusts him not to be distracted by alcohol, but attractive women, on the other hand...
once the kyrlorian is out of earshot, gamora just nods in agreement. ]
As long as that otherwise does not involve flirting with the waitstaff, I think that would be our best option.
[ and the sarcasm is back, but she still keeps her gaze in motion, looking for anything that seemed out of place. ]
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I'm not flirting. I can't help that I have a magnetic personality, Gamora.
[ He glances over at her, watching as she scans the area, and adds quietly, ]
Relax. You look like you're trying to avoid an ex-boyfriend or something.
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I don't want to leave us exposed.
[ she doesn't want to miss anything that could prove to be dangerous.
(that could put them in a situation like the marketplace again.) ]
And besides, this— [ she gestures vaguely with a flick of her hand. ] —is not my idea of an enjoyable evening.
[ she feels out of place, out of her element, and adding that to the fact that they're working a job and dealing with the same kree terrorists from before...
relaxing is simply not coming easily to her. ]
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We've only been here, what, less than fifteen minutes? You're not even giving it a chance.
[ He gives the room a quick scan as well, though what he's really doing is listening. And—
There it is.
He finishes off most of his drink, leaving the glass on a nearby surface. Casting Gamora a wide smile, he tugs the two of them forward.
Because the song had changed to something slow. ]
But, alright, have it your way. Better vantage point from the center of the room, right?
[ Which, as it happens, is exactly where the dance floor is. ]
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[ but then peter gives her that look, that big smile, and he's on the move again. gamora opens her mouth to ask where they're going, but then realizes—
of course he's tugging her towards the dance floor. of course he is. ]
Quill.
[ short, warning, but she isn't digging in her heels or dropping his arm, instead going right along with him. ]
Don't you think this will be more of a distraction than actually beneficial?
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[ With the ignorant certainty of a man who has done absolutely no research and has not given it any second thoughts. ]
It's a slow song. Just swaying, right? Not exactly mentally taxing. And it gives us a good view of the whole place.
'Sides.
[ And there's a shift in his voice, subtle though it is, something a little more sober, like speaking from experience. ]
You'd be surprised how many people blab their guts out on a dance floor. Like they forget other people can just listen.
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...all right.
[ and because a quiet, very subdued part of her thinks that she'd like to revisit dancing with him, given that she hasn't had the chance since that evening on the ship.
but with the stipulation: ]
As long as it continues to be slow.
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This is a surprise.
And his smile slowly spreads. ]
Really?
[ But apparently he doesn't see reason to tempt fate by waiting for an answer, so he carefully maneuvers them through the crowd and onto the dance floor.
The other dancers are doing little more than quietly swaying. Nothing fancy, thankfully, and the two of them easily slip into the crowd, claiming a space for themselves somewhere in the middle. He takes her hand, presses his other hand against her back, and moves to the music.
Sure enough, the dance floor does provide a clear view of most of the room, and scanning the area from here isn't nearly as conspicuous as standing in corners and searching. The quiet murmur of conversation surrounds them, and while Peter listens for a few seconds, nothing stands out. Business propositions and thoughts on the current political climate, and really a whole lot of shit Peter doesn't care about, so he tunes it out.
After maybe a handful of seconds, he murmurs, ]
Now's when you get to tell me I was right.
[ "get to." ]
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(on peter's hand in hers, on the splay of his fingers on the bare skin of her back.)
the murmur of voices around them doesn't prove to be useful, yet, but the vantage is much more appealing than peering around from the fringes of the room.
...she'll at least give him that.
but when he speaks up again, his phrasing has her leveling him with one of those flat, somewhat exasperated looks. ]
Perhaps I should investigate that hall to our left instead.
[ but she's not stepping away from him as her hand stays in his, her other resting on his shoulder with her thumb brushing against skin where his neck meets the collar of his shirt. ]
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I mean, if you wanted to sneak off with me into a dark corner, you only have to ask.
[ #halfnailedit. ]
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You would lose your nerve before we could even leave the dance floor, Quill.
[ it isn't an indulgence, but it's probably better for peter than getting his foot stamped on for his troubles.
but the comm in gamora's ear fills with the sound of rocket's fake gagging.
"gross, guys." ]
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[ Would so.
And Rocket's feigned disgust makes Peter glare at a spot over Gamora's shoulder. He whispers, ]
No comments from the peanut gallery.
Don't say anything, Drax. [ And that bit comes hot on the heels of his last sentence, and there's an almost affronted (if puzzled) sigh from Drax. ]
Are they seriously gonna be listening in the whole time?
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I would say that it's likely.
[ in case something goes wrong or they need to respond immediately, after all. ]
Is there a reason they shouldn't?
[ ...other than the constant commentary when their companions start getting bored. ]
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[ Apparently the crew's (well, Rocket's) need to be smart-asses is Peter's primary concern. ]
Can we at least agree on radio silence until one of us says a code word or something?
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[ and there's that weird hissing laugh on rocket's end of the comm.
gamora just sighs, minutely shaking her head. ]
This is neither the time nor the place. If something requires attention, say so; we don't need code words.
No, but really, what about code phr—
Or phrases.
I seriously think we could—
Enough.
[ short, quiet because of the still-dancing couples around them, but sharp nonetheless.
there's some muttering on the other end of the comm, but nothing that gamora can pick out, so it seems that rocket is content to adhere to the call for radio silence.
...for now. ]
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What follows is a few seconds of awkward silence, with everyone properly chagrined, Peter included. Eventually, he ventures quietly, ]
See anything?
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Dude on your guys' left — that shifty Kree in the red fancy suit thing. He keeps edgin' towards the stage.
[ gamora follows rocket's direction, her eyes falling on the kree as she and peter continue the quiet pace of the dance. she subtly nods towards the man, as she looks from the kree to peter and back again. ]
I see him.
[ the kree has his hand in his pocket, fiddling with something as he keeps moving closer to where the live band has been situated in the hall. he looks nervous, antsy almost in the way he rocks on his heels, pausing in between each measured approach to the stage. ]
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Maybe he just wants to give them his demo tape.
[ Though even as he says it, he maneuvers the two of them slowly toward the stage – keeping in time with the music, unhurried so as not to draw attention. ]
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they draw closer, and gamora watches as the kree pulls something small from his pocket. she tenses, and her voice is still low, soft enough just for peter and the others over the comm. ]
I do not think demo tapes have buttons.
Nah, but detonators do.
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