[ gamora is perfectly aware that peter is the more conversational of the two of them, more adept at simply approaching someone and drawing them into the way he talks; gamora can distract, certainly, but she's not as likely to be charming by words alone.
(or charming at all, really.)
but she also knows that peter is exceptionally good with his hands (when it comes to stealing things; she can't vouch for anything else), so that seems the more reasonable approach. ]
Would you guys hurry up already?
[ another roll of gamora's eyes, and when the song ends, she breaks away from peter — with one last brush of her thumb over his neck as they part. after, she's making her way towards the kree, pausing only to swipe a glass of wine from a passing server so she looks at least marginally less confrontational. she doesn't want to startle him into pressing the button or kick up his guard, if she can instead make herself seem like an interested party.
...she'd much rather just break his arm and grab the remote, but not only did that have the potential to go badly, but it would, at the very least, alarm the rest of the guests. ]
[ Peter similarly rolls his eyes as Rocket's voice sounds out over the comm again. ]
What happened to radio silence?
[ Is all he grumbles as the two of them step away, though he pauses at the brush of her skin against his; it was little more than a brief touch, and he tells himself not to read too much into it.
He skirts away through the crowd, moving away from the Kree. Now and again, he pauses on the edges of conversations, only half-listening as he tracks Gamora's movements toward their suspect. It helps to take his time to let Gamora fully distract the guy, and to avoid unwanted suspicion. He'll circle around to get at the Kree's back. ]
[ gamora is careful about approaching the kree, because she sincerely doesn't want to make him think he's being approached out of suspicion, doesn't want him running off before peter's even had the chance to get the remote away from him. the man immediately snaps to look at her when she comes close, halting in his tracks to give gamora a thorough once-over.
gamora doesn't stop until she comes up beside him, and she just offers a small (hopefully disarming) smile to the kree.
she notices the way his hand slips back into his pocket, tucking the detonator away as she speaks to him, as she gets him to stop his careful approach of the stage. there's tension in his posture, mistrust and something bordering on hostile, even as he manages a polite tone with her, as he turns his attention properly into the conversation itself.
she can see peter out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn't so much as glance his way as she manages up another smile for the kree; he even seems to relax minutely when she doesn't display any aggression, as she just stands and sips quietly at her drink as she listens to him.
it's that smile, though, wholly unlike the small ones she's given to peter, the one that's made its way to her face on occasion; here and now, it's completely lacking in anything genuine.
but it does the job well enough, keeps the kree's focus on her. ]
[ Completely unsupervised as Peter currently is, he briefly flirts with the idea of divesting a few folks here of their wallets, of their jewelry. It'd be so easy, he thinks, as he drifts through the crowds of the rich, famous, and influential. Surely they wouldn't miss a bracelet of precious gems? A purse of units?
But, no. He moves forward still, deciding that if anything went missing tonight, attention would probably promptly snap to him, the only mildly reformed thief. (But then again, as he usually does, maybe Peter is giving himself too much credit.)
He waits with a surprising amount of patience as Gamora makes polite conversation, as she smiles those empty smiles. Peter stands on the edge of another small crowd, pretending to be engrossed in their conversation. More tension eases out of the Kree's frame when he realizes Gamora isn't there to stop him from doing— whatever it was he was doing, and he finally moves his hand out of his pocket—
Without the detonator.
The two of them continue on with their conversation, and Peter continues to wait. A small group of people drift past, heading in that direction, and only when the last person crosses behind Peter does he finally break off from one group to join the next. He strikes up a mild sort of conversation with the woman beside him, cracks a joke about the dry canapes that seems to amuse her.
(She asks, "Don't I know you? I swear I've seen you somewhere before."
Peter shrugs and offers a self-deprecating sort of smile. "I just have one of those faces, you know?")
They wander slowly past Gamora and the Kree, the people ahead of them talking about something stuffy. Stock options or the political climate on Xanadu or something that Peter almost immediately zones out on that, thanks.
And Peter picks his moment, keeps his head slightly turned to the person beside him. He waits for the Kree to turn away a little, offer some vague gesture as he speaks, before Peter quickly dips his hand into the Kree's pocket, fishing out the device and slipping it into his own trouser pocket.
The man doesn't seem to notice (and neither does the woman), though Peter doesn't bother waiting around long enough to see if he will. He continues onward with the little crowd he had latched on to, offering only a quiet hum over their comms to indicate he had swiped the item. ]
[ gamora keeps tabs on peter as he makes his way to the kree — subtly, just barely when she can catch glimpses out of her periphery — and it's with some relief that she watches him stepping away again, as that little hum comes over the comm.
at least now she doesn't have to continue engaging the kree.
she excuses herself with some level of abruptness (because gamora is many things, but perfectly suited to social situations she is not), breaking away and leaving her barely-touched drink with another waiter. ]
Should we have the Nova Corps remove him?
[ spoken under her breath, just loud enough for the comm to pick up her voice.
of course, as soon as gamora has stepped away, the kree is reaching into his pocket again—
—only to realize that the detonator is gone.
he looks wildly around him, his narrowed eyes falling on gamora, and then the man is crossing the dance floor to follow her, pushing carelessly past partygoers. as he moves, he flicks his wrist, a small but incredibly sharp knife dropping into his palm. ]
Whoa, Gamora, incoming — on your six.
[ gamora spins on her heel as the kree comes up behind her, lashing out with the blade. she moves just quickly enough to avoid legitimate damage, but the knife grazes across her upper arm before she snaps her hands out, closing her fingers around his wrist and elbow to twist the limb in exactly the wrong way. he drops the knife with a yell, while the sounds of shock and alarm quickly start to spread through the crowd.
...exactly what gamora hoped to avoid.
(but at least the building hasn't gone up in flames, so this is a small consolation.) ]
[ Peter allows himself a quiet sigh of relief as he puts some distance between himself and the Kree, and each second that passes without the guy noticing is a blessing.
He steps away from his new friend with a lot more grace than Gamora manages, saying his goodbyes (and, surprisingly, turning down her offer to exchange contact information) before wandering back into the crowd.
Then the warning from Rocket, and Peter's gaze snaps toward the Kree charging toward Gamora. ]
Shit.
[ — is about all he manages to hiss out, though Gamora seems to have the situation well in hand.
—Except he sees the streak of blood running down her arm, and something in him goes cold.
There's a sudden surge of movement to his left as someone charges through the curious onlookers– definitely not a Nova Corpse officer, considering the lack of adherence to protocol and the non-standard issue blade that falls into his hand. Peter moves without thinking, zipping through the crowd to get at the Kree. Single-minded as that particular assailant's focus is, he doesn't notice Peter bearing down on him until he's an arm's length away—
And by then, it's too late, as Peter knocks him to the ground, yanking his blaster from the holster at his hip and aiming the barrel at the dazed Kree's temple. ]
Maybe don't move.
[ This, aimed down at the asshole whose chest he's currently straddling. Then, shouted over his shoulder to Gamora. ]
[ gamora twists the kree's arm again for another shriek, this time forcing him to his knees. she barely has time to register the additional kree bearing down on her before peter has him slammed into the ground, and gamora glances over to see peter aiming his blaster at the man's head. ]
Fine.
[ she calls it back to him, before her attention settles on the kree again — catching him just as he reaches for another knife.
she wrenches his arm and forces him down onto his stomach, her knee digging into the small of his back. ]
If you attempt to injure me again, I will remove your limbs rather than simply break them. Do you understand?
[ her voice is cold, flat, but the kree manages to nod against the floor.
she holds him there as the crowd parts for the nova corps officers to come filing in. they wait a small distance from gamora, clearly not all that inclined to approach her yet, but she hauls the kree to his feet, allowing him to be taken (with far more care given to his broken bones than she might have offered him otherwise). ]
[ Officers gather around Peter and his suspect, as well, though they have fewer compunctions about moving forward; apparently Peter has less of a reputation for being terrifying, because the officers move in quickly, waiting only long enough for Peter to get to his feet. He keeps his blaster trained on the Kree as the officers cuff his hands behind his back, and when they frog-march him away, Peter tucks his gun back into its holster.
He glances around at the gawking guests, startled for a second to be commanding the attention of so many people. Once his shock passes, he clears his throat, and makes a disapproving sort of face as he gestures with his thumb at the two Kree being hauled away. ]
No tickets.
[ By way of (shitty) explanation.
Denarian Dey, in his formal dress uniform, passes by Peter, shaking his head. Peter just grins, clapping the other man on the shoulder; let the Nova Corps decide how they want to handle this fucking mess, Peter figures. He's got bigger things to worry about, which is why he makes his way Gamora. ]
[ gamora watches them escort the kree out of the hall, glaring after them, before she glances down to the cut on her arm. she reaches up to dab at the blood with her fingers, checking the wound without too much consideration for it.
when peter approaches her, she turns her attention to him, only offering a dismissive shrug. ]
Yes, I'm fine.
But I should clean this.
[ because she really wouldn't mind ducking away from the intense focus of the other attendees in the wake of the kree takedown. ]
[ Peter’s own cursory examination of the injury shows that it’s probably not too bad, not too deep, and he glances around. Eventually he nods toward a hallway. ]
Pretty sure they’ve got medkits up front.
[ Government building as this is, the reception area probably has what they’ll need. And Peter’s pretty sure the Nova Corps will be organizing forces in the foyer, and they’ll surely have questions for them, which will kill two birds with one stone. Maybe three birds, too, if Peter’s judged this right – because there’s an uncertain sort of air around Gamora, who seems slightly discomfited by the murmuring, staring, and pointing leveled at them by all the other guests.
Or maybe he’s projecting, or maybe he’s just reading too much into things, but nevertheless, he steps beside her, shielding her from at least half of the room, and leads the way out. ]
[ gamora doesn't comment, but there's a small amount of tension that slides out of her shoulders when peter settles beside her, a partial wall between her and their spectators. she isn't used to the scrutiny, all of that attention, and it unsettles her, makes her feel out of place.
having peter there helps — though she doesn't feel the need to explore why.
the nova corps are already congregating in the foyer, and gamora finds she'd much rather be somewhere quiet, away from the bustling of formalities and protocol as the officers try to deal with the kree and the fallout. there are inevitably questions to be answered, which she's hoping peter can address, because she's far more preoccupied with finding a medkit tucked behind the large reception desk.
she breaks away to rifle through things, but one of the nova officers seems to realize what she's looking for, and politely offers up a small kit with the supplies to tend to her cut.
if she can just find a place to sit with this, away from all of these people, that would be ideal — but she's also willing to wait until there's a guarantee she won't be interrupted or harangued by the nova corps. ]
[ When Gamora steps away, Peter frowns after her, worried despite knowing Gamora is a big girl and is capable of taking care of herself. He’d probably just get in the way, trying to help her with her injury.
So he helps in another way, intercepting a Nova Corps officer, as she moves with purpose toward Gamora, a tablet in hand. He puts on his helpful face &in dash; the one he used to wear when an officer caught him in the middle of a job, and Peter wanted to assure them that there was nothing going on. He asks, ]
What do you need to know?
[ And the officer hesitates, glances over his shoulder at Gamora’s retreating back. Peter shifts slightly to get back into her line of sight, smiling blandly, and the officer sighs.
Peter answers every question she puts to him, and when Denarian Dey arrives to drill him with further questions, Peter answers those, too. He pulls the device from his pocket, hands it to Dey, who tucks it away into what looks like a dark black canister for examination and dismantling, but after that, Dey waves him off, tells him not to wander too far away, in case they think of anything else to ask.
Naturally, Peter wanders off near immediately, going in search of Gamora again. ]
[ fortunately for gamora, peter does a solid job warding off the officer, and she manages to find a quiet spot down the hall, away from the foyer and the nova corps, separate and party that she sincerely hopes they won't be expected to continue attending. a quiet alcove with a bench is where she's settled herself with the medkit, with some measure of relief as she carefully cleans the cut on her arm.
the sound of footsteps in the hall immediately makes her reach for the knife on her thigh, but when she looks up to see peter making his way towards her, she lets her hand drop away. ]
Do you think they will be satisfied enough that we can leave soon?
[ she asks it casually enough as she picks up the bandages she'd set aside, holding a bit of gauze in place over her arm. she could leave it exposed, honestly, and it would close within the hour or next, but if nothing else, she knows it's not the most appealing thing to leave out in the open. ]
[ He's relieved when he finds her, if only because he had kind of expected she had darted off into the night, or whatever it was crazy skilled assassins do. Like, just kind of disappeared into the shadows or something in an effort to avoid the rest of the party.
But there she still is, under the same roof, and his step slows a little as he approaches. ]
I'd say give it a bit. We'll probably have to retell the story, like, four times to four different people.
You know how it is.
[ Peter takes a seat beside her, and while she doesn't ask, Peter holds his hand out for the bandages, intent on wrapping the gauze in place for her. ]
[ months before, gamora wouldn't have even considered handing over the bandages without an argument of some kind, token or otherwise, but she hesitates only briefly before she sets the roll in peter's palm.
she keeps the gauze in place with her fingers, but shifts her arm to make it easier for him to wrap it, looking down the hall towards the sounds of the party, the band having kicked up once more in a softer song.
[ Maybe in another place, another time, he'd marvel over the difference time could make. Before, his team used to hiss and snarl and protect their wounds, treating them in the private of their bunks away from prying eyes. Now, though, they let Peter help, and he's not sure if that's just them indulging him, or if that's them trusting him, but—
For now, he's just pleased to lend a hand.
He wraps the bandage around the dressing, taking care to not wrap it too tightly, but snug enough to apply pressure and keep the gauze in place. He focuses on his work, tongue darting out a little to lick at the corner of his mouth, and at her words, he glances up.
Absently, ]
Their Harvest festival was probably a couple weeks back, huh?
[ Which is too bad. He had really wanted to take Gamora there – cider tasting and hearty stews and warm cakes that taste faintly like Terran cinnamon. Artwork and knickknacks and blown glass sculptures. Fireworks and carnival games and dancing.
It would've been fun, but— well. Priorities had shifted.
He smiles faintly, finishing off the bandage. ]
Surprised you even know about that. Have you gone before?
[ gamora keeps still for him as he wraps her arm, and she glances down at it only once he's finished. she reaches up to give it an appraising little brush of her fingers, before her eyes flick up to peter instead. ]
No. It was something you described to me.
[ back in the marketplace, while she'd held him in her arms, listening to him stumble for words as she tried to keep him awake. ]
You said you intended to ask me to dance again.
[ she hasn't mentioned much from the day of the gunshot, and certainly not this. in fact, she'd kept her explanation incredibly brief and limited, because she hadn't seen a need to detail their conversation.
(or to let him catch a glimpse of how deeply she'd been affected by the fear of losing him then and there.) ]
[ His smile falters at that, gives way to an almost slack-jawed sort of surprise. ]
I did?
[ A weird mix of embarrassment and shock twists in his gut, and he fumbles for words, palms running nervously over his legs. He hadn't intended to tell that to anyone, much less Gamora. Had planned to just— drop subtle sorts of hints in the weeks leading up to the festival, then spring the question on the night and see where it took them. ]
I— did.
[ A little more certainly, if only because Gamora isn't really given to lying when she's not playing a part. ]
... Right.
[ He clears his throat, gaze flitting off to some painting hanging on a stark white wall. Splashes of colors – vibrant blues and reds – and thin lines of silver crisscrossing at random. Pretty, Peter guesses, even if he doesn't quite see the point of it.
(It doesn't even look like anything.)
He clears his throat a second time, pointedly avoiding Gamora's gaze. ]
Did you— I mean, you probably— just to, I dunno, humor me or something, but did you—
[ say yes?
His expression pinches, lips pressing together, before he exhales sharply. ]
[ she likes to see him surprised sometimes, she thinks, if only because it lets some of his usual bravado slip away into a more genuine piece of peter — startled as that may be at the moment. she lets him stumble through for a while, but when he stops in the middle of asking, she tilts her head slightly, still considering him. ]
Why should I forget it?
[ she smooths her fingers over the bandage again, then lets her hands fall back into her lap and the fabric of her dress. ]
I said yes then, and I would have agreed at the festival as well.
It would have made for a better dance than this.
[ she gestures vaguely back to the noises of the party and the music floating through the hall. ]
[ Like the word is punched out of him, because he had expected for the conversation to drop after his aborted attempt at a question.
He fidgets a little, suddenly struck by regret, now that the festival has come and gone. He hadn’t been well enough for it, shaky on his feet and exhausted by small activities more often than not. Thoughts of Nerian-6 had flitted in and out of his head as he recovered. Now, though, now that he remembers it, now that he knows Gamora would’ve said yes—
Well. He’s kind of pissed off about the whole getting shot thing all over again.
He picks at the crease in the leg of his trousers, listens to the music that filters through the walls and reaches them. Some lively little snippet, and Peter huffs out a laugh. ]
Yeah, I don’t think these kinds of parties are really our style, huh?
[ And he loosens the knot of his tie a little. ]
Except for the punchy part. The punchy part was pretty much our speed.
[ she hums in quiet agreement, the corner of her lips tugging up as she looks back towards the party. ]
Yes, that was much more expected for us.
[ chaos and violence — they did seem to follow the guardians wherever they went. (of course, occasionally it was chaos of their own making, but that was beside the point.)
she likes to think the harvest festival might have been less eventful, if only because there wouldn't be terrorists to interrupt their dance or bullets to be dodged or raucous fights to be picked. she's sure their companions could have found trouble, if they went looking for it, but she and peter would have been much too preoccupied with experiencing what the festival had to offer, like their other outings of museums and plays and music.
it would have been...nice. ]
I think you'll have to ask me to dance somewhere else.
[ He blinks for a second or two, as if he hadn't quite heard what she said.
But when it sinks in, he slowly turns his head to look at her, a disbelieving sort of smile curling his mouth. ]
Really?
[ His heart pounds in his chest, stomach fluttering, and— Jesus, it's like having a crush grade school all over again, when the prettiest girl happens to glance his way. It's like fifty adrenaline rushes all at once, culminating in that warm, drunk feeling of a night of celebration, and—
Wow. Pump the brakes, Quill, he tells himself, trying to wrangle his smile it something— you know. Cooler.
More Star-Lord. ]
I'll— [ He clears his throat, shifting a little in his seat. ] I'll keep that in mind.
[ gamora looks back at him to see that first smile on his face, all amazed and taken aback in a way she's sure that she likes. there's something honest about the way he looks at her, something that doesn't hold all the ego and swagger, and she's...fond of that part of him.
(she'd like to see more of it.)
but it melts away into that star-lord smile instead, and she keeps herself from shaking her head. ]
Good.
[ she smooths down her dress, getting to her feet. ]
Maybe then I will sneak off to a dark corner with you.
[ aaaaand she's totally going to walk away from him after that to head back to the foyer. ]
[ But he chokes on that last syllable, mouth working silently as the words finally settle, and— ]
Wait, what?
[ No, okay, he definitely heard that wrong. She definitely didn't— Gamora would never—
He stares at her retreating back, mouth still hanging open, trying to make sense of the last, like, minute, because he's pretty sure what she said – or what he thinks she said, or maybe what he thinks she didn't say, or... – has flipped everything on its head.
It takes him even longer to realize that she's managed to put a fair amount of distance between them while he's been sitting here, gawking, and he scrambles to his feet, running after her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I'm pretty sure talking is more my thing, but—
[ He makes an uncertain sort of noise. ]
—pickpocketing is kinda my thing, too. So—
[ He clicks his tongue, drags air in through the corner of his mouth as he considers their options. Then, ]
I can grab it.
no subject
[ gamora is perfectly aware that peter is the more conversational of the two of them, more adept at simply approaching someone and drawing them into the way he talks; gamora can distract, certainly, but she's not as likely to be charming by words alone.
(or charming at all, really.)
but she also knows that peter is exceptionally good with his hands (when it comes to stealing things; she can't vouch for anything else), so that seems the more reasonable approach. ]
Would you guys hurry up already?
[ another roll of gamora's eyes, and when the song ends, she breaks away from peter — with one last brush of her thumb over his neck as they part. after, she's making her way towards the kree, pausing only to swipe a glass of wine from a passing server so she looks at least marginally less confrontational. she doesn't want to startle him into pressing the button or kick up his guard, if she can instead make herself seem like an interested party.
...she'd much rather just break his arm and grab the remote, but not only did that have the potential to go badly, but it would, at the very least, alarm the rest of the guests. ]
no subject
What happened to radio silence?
[ Is all he grumbles as the two of them step away, though he pauses at the brush of her skin against his; it was little more than a brief touch, and he tells himself not to read too much into it.
He skirts away through the crowd, moving away from the Kree. Now and again, he pauses on the edges of conversations, only half-listening as he tracks Gamora's movements toward their suspect. It helps to take his time to let Gamora fully distract the guy, and to avoid unwanted suspicion. He'll circle around to get at the Kree's back. ]
no subject
gamora doesn't stop until she comes up beside him, and she just offers a small (hopefully disarming) smile to the kree.
she notices the way his hand slips back into his pocket, tucking the detonator away as she speaks to him, as she gets him to stop his careful approach of the stage. there's tension in his posture, mistrust and something bordering on hostile, even as he manages a polite tone with her, as he turns his attention properly into the conversation itself.
she can see peter out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn't so much as glance his way as she manages up another smile for the kree; he even seems to relax minutely when she doesn't display any aggression, as she just stands and sips quietly at her drink as she listens to him.
it's that smile, though, wholly unlike the small ones she's given to peter, the one that's made its way to her face on occasion; here and now, it's completely lacking in anything genuine.
but it does the job well enough, keeps the kree's focus on her. ]
no subject
But, no. He moves forward still, deciding that if anything went missing tonight, attention would probably promptly snap to him, the only mildly reformed thief. (But then again, as he usually does, maybe Peter is giving himself too much credit.)
He waits with a surprising amount of patience as Gamora makes polite conversation, as she smiles those empty smiles. Peter stands on the edge of another small crowd, pretending to be engrossed in their conversation. More tension eases out of the Kree's frame when he realizes Gamora isn't there to stop him from doing— whatever it was he was doing, and he finally moves his hand out of his pocket—
Without the detonator.
The two of them continue on with their conversation, and Peter continues to wait. A small group of people drift past, heading in that direction, and only when the last person crosses behind Peter does he finally break off from one group to join the next. He strikes up a mild sort of conversation with the woman beside him, cracks a joke about the dry canapes that seems to amuse her.
(She asks, "Don't I know you? I swear I've seen you somewhere before."
Peter shrugs and offers a self-deprecating sort of smile. "I just have one of those faces, you know?")
They wander slowly past Gamora and the Kree, the people ahead of them talking about something stuffy. Stock options or the political climate on Xanadu or something that Peter almost immediately zones out on that, thanks.
And Peter picks his moment, keeps his head slightly turned to the person beside him. He waits for the Kree to turn away a little, offer some vague gesture as he speaks, before Peter quickly dips his hand into the Kree's pocket, fishing out the device and slipping it into his own trouser pocket.
The man doesn't seem to notice (and neither does the woman), though Peter doesn't bother waiting around long enough to see if he will. He continues onward with the little crowd he had latched on to, offering only a quiet hum over their comms to indicate he had swiped the item. ]
no subject
at least now she doesn't have to continue engaging the kree.
she excuses herself with some level of abruptness (because gamora is many things, but perfectly suited to social situations she is not), breaking away and leaving her barely-touched drink with another waiter. ]
Should we have the Nova Corps remove him?
[ spoken under her breath, just loud enough for the comm to pick up her voice.
of course, as soon as gamora has stepped away, the kree is reaching into his pocket again—
—only to realize that the detonator is gone.
he looks wildly around him, his narrowed eyes falling on gamora, and then the man is crossing the dance floor to follow her, pushing carelessly past partygoers. as he moves, he flicks his wrist, a small but incredibly sharp knife dropping into his palm. ]
Whoa, Gamora, incoming — on your six.
[ gamora spins on her heel as the kree comes up behind her, lashing out with the blade. she moves just quickly enough to avoid legitimate damage, but the knife grazes across her upper arm before she snaps her hands out, closing her fingers around his wrist and elbow to twist the limb in exactly the wrong way. he drops the knife with a yell, while the sounds of shock and alarm quickly start to spread through the crowd.
...exactly what gamora hoped to avoid.
(but at least the building hasn't gone up in flames, so this is a small consolation.) ]
no subject
He steps away from his new friend with a lot more grace than Gamora manages, saying his goodbyes (and, surprisingly, turning down her offer to exchange contact information) before wandering back into the crowd.
Then the warning from Rocket, and Peter's gaze snaps toward the Kree charging toward Gamora. ]
Shit.
[ — is about all he manages to hiss out, though Gamora seems to have the situation well in hand.
—Except he sees the streak of blood running down her arm, and something in him goes cold.
There's a sudden surge of movement to his left as someone charges through the curious onlookers– definitely not a Nova Corpse officer, considering the lack of adherence to protocol and the non-standard issue blade that falls into his hand. Peter moves without thinking, zipping through the crowd to get at the Kree. Single-minded as that particular assailant's focus is, he doesn't notice Peter bearing down on him until he's an arm's length away—
And by then, it's too late, as Peter knocks him to the ground, yanking his blaster from the holster at his hip and aiming the barrel at the dazed Kree's temple. ]
Maybe don't move.
[ This, aimed down at the asshole whose chest he's currently straddling. Then, shouted over his shoulder to Gamora. ]
You alright?
no subject
Fine.
[ she calls it back to him, before her attention settles on the kree again — catching him just as he reaches for another knife.
she wrenches his arm and forces him down onto his stomach, her knee digging into the small of his back. ]
If you attempt to injure me again, I will remove your limbs rather than simply break them. Do you understand?
[ her voice is cold, flat, but the kree manages to nod against the floor.
she holds him there as the crowd parts for the nova corps officers to come filing in. they wait a small distance from gamora, clearly not all that inclined to approach her yet, but she hauls the kree to his feet, allowing him to be taken (with far more care given to his broken bones than she might have offered him otherwise). ]
no subject
He glances around at the gawking guests, startled for a second to be commanding the attention of so many people. Once his shock passes, he clears his throat, and makes a disapproving sort of face as he gestures with his thumb at the two Kree being hauled away. ]
No tickets.
[ By way of (shitty) explanation.
Denarian Dey, in his formal dress uniform, passes by Peter, shaking his head. Peter just grins, clapping the other man on the shoulder; let the Nova Corps decide how they want to handle this fucking mess, Peter figures. He's got bigger things to worry about, which is why he makes his way Gamora. ]
You sure you're alright?
no subject
when peter approaches her, she turns her attention to him, only offering a dismissive shrug. ]
Yes, I'm fine.
But I should clean this.
[ because she really wouldn't mind ducking away from the intense focus of the other attendees in the wake of the kree takedown. ]
no subject
[ Peter’s own cursory examination of the injury shows that it’s probably not too bad, not too deep, and he glances around. Eventually he nods toward a hallway. ]
Pretty sure they’ve got medkits up front.
[ Government building as this is, the reception area probably has what they’ll need. And Peter’s pretty sure the Nova Corps will be organizing forces in the foyer, and they’ll surely have questions for them, which will kill two birds with one stone. Maybe three birds, too, if Peter’s judged this right – because there’s an uncertain sort of air around Gamora, who seems slightly discomfited by the murmuring, staring, and pointing leveled at them by all the other guests.
Or maybe he’s projecting, or maybe he’s just reading too much into things, but nevertheless, he steps beside her, shielding her from at least half of the room, and leads the way out. ]
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having peter there helps — though she doesn't feel the need to explore why.
the nova corps are already congregating in the foyer, and gamora finds she'd much rather be somewhere quiet, away from the bustling of formalities and protocol as the officers try to deal with the kree and the fallout. there are inevitably questions to be answered, which she's hoping peter can address, because she's far more preoccupied with finding a medkit tucked behind the large reception desk.
she breaks away to rifle through things, but one of the nova officers seems to realize what she's looking for, and politely offers up a small kit with the supplies to tend to her cut.
if she can just find a place to sit with this, away from all of these people, that would be ideal — but she's also willing to wait until there's a guarantee she won't be interrupted or harangued by the nova corps. ]
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So he helps in another way, intercepting a Nova Corps officer, as she moves with purpose toward Gamora, a tablet in hand. He puts on his helpful face &in dash; the one he used to wear when an officer caught him in the middle of a job, and Peter wanted to assure them that there was nothing going on. He asks, ]
What do you need to know?
[ And the officer hesitates, glances over his shoulder at Gamora’s retreating back. Peter shifts slightly to get back into her line of sight, smiling blandly, and the officer sighs.
Peter answers every question she puts to him, and when Denarian Dey arrives to drill him with further questions, Peter answers those, too. He pulls the device from his pocket, hands it to Dey, who tucks it away into what looks like a dark black canister for examination and dismantling, but after that, Dey waves him off, tells him not to wander too far away, in case they think of anything else to ask.
Naturally, Peter wanders off near immediately, going in search of Gamora again. ]
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the sound of footsteps in the hall immediately makes her reach for the knife on her thigh, but when she looks up to see peter making his way towards her, she lets her hand drop away. ]
Do you think they will be satisfied enough that we can leave soon?
[ she asks it casually enough as she picks up the bandages she'd set aside, holding a bit of gauze in place over her arm. she could leave it exposed, honestly, and it would close within the hour or next, but if nothing else, she knows it's not the most appealing thing to leave out in the open. ]
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But there she still is, under the same roof, and his step slows a little as he approaches. ]
I'd say give it a bit. We'll probably have to retell the story, like, four times to four different people.
You know how it is.
[ Peter takes a seat beside her, and while she doesn't ask, Peter holds his hand out for the bandages, intent on wrapping the gauze in place for her. ]
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[ months before, gamora wouldn't have even considered handing over the bandages without an argument of some kind, token or otherwise, but she hesitates only briefly before she sets the roll in peter's palm.
she keeps the gauze in place with her fingers, but shifts her arm to make it easier for him to wrap it, looking down the hall towards the sounds of the party, the band having kicked up once more in a softer song.
quiet, for a moment, and then, ]
I think I would have preferred Nerian-6.
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For now, he's just pleased to lend a hand.
He wraps the bandage around the dressing, taking care to not wrap it too tightly, but snug enough to apply pressure and keep the gauze in place. He focuses on his work, tongue darting out a little to lick at the corner of his mouth, and at her words, he glances up.
Absently, ]
Their Harvest festival was probably a couple weeks back, huh?
[ Which is too bad. He had really wanted to take Gamora there – cider tasting and hearty stews and warm cakes that taste faintly like Terran cinnamon. Artwork and knickknacks and blown glass sculptures. Fireworks and carnival games and dancing.
It would've been fun, but— well. Priorities had shifted.
He smiles faintly, finishing off the bandage. ]
Surprised you even know about that. Have you gone before?
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No. It was something you described to me.
[ back in the marketplace, while she'd held him in her arms, listening to him stumble for words as she tried to keep him awake. ]
You said you intended to ask me to dance again.
[ she hasn't mentioned much from the day of the gunshot, and certainly not this. in fact, she'd kept her explanation incredibly brief and limited, because she hadn't seen a need to detail their conversation.
(or to let him catch a glimpse of how deeply she'd been affected by the fear of losing him then and there.) ]
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I did?
[ A weird mix of embarrassment and shock twists in his gut, and he fumbles for words, palms running nervously over his legs. He hadn't intended to tell that to anyone, much less Gamora. Had planned to just— drop subtle sorts of hints in the weeks leading up to the festival, then spring the question on the night and see where it took them. ]
I— did.
[ A little more certainly, if only because Gamora isn't really given to lying when she's not playing a part. ]
... Right.
[ He clears his throat, gaze flitting off to some painting hanging on a stark white wall. Splashes of colors – vibrant blues and reds – and thin lines of silver crisscrossing at random. Pretty, Peter guesses, even if he doesn't quite see the point of it.
(It doesn't even look like anything.)
He clears his throat a second time, pointedly avoiding Gamora's gaze. ]
Did you— I mean, you probably— just to, I dunno, humor me or something, but did you—
[ say yes?
His expression pinches, lips pressing together, before he exhales sharply. ]
You know what? Never mind. Forget about all that.
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Why should I forget it?
[ she smooths her fingers over the bandage again, then lets her hands fall back into her lap and the fabric of her dress. ]
I said yes then, and I would have agreed at the festival as well.
It would have made for a better dance than this.
[ she gestures vaguely back to the noises of the party and the music floating through the hall. ]
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[ Like the word is punched out of him, because he had expected for the conversation to drop after his aborted attempt at a question.
He fidgets a little, suddenly struck by regret, now that the festival has come and gone. He hadn’t been well enough for it, shaky on his feet and exhausted by small activities more often than not. Thoughts of Nerian-6 had flitted in and out of his head as he recovered. Now, though, now that he remembers it, now that he knows Gamora would’ve said yes—
Well. He’s kind of pissed off about the whole getting shot thing all over again.
He picks at the crease in the leg of his trousers, listens to the music that filters through the walls and reaches them. Some lively little snippet, and Peter huffs out a laugh. ]
Yeah, I don’t think these kinds of parties are really our style, huh?
[ And he loosens the knot of his tie a little. ]
Except for the punchy part. The punchy part was pretty much our speed.
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Yes, that was much more expected for us.
[ chaos and violence — they did seem to follow the guardians wherever they went. (of course, occasionally it was chaos of their own making, but that was beside the point.)
she likes to think the harvest festival might have been less eventful, if only because there wouldn't be terrorists to interrupt their dance or bullets to be dodged or raucous fights to be picked. she's sure their companions could have found trouble, if they went looking for it, but she and peter would have been much too preoccupied with experiencing what the festival had to offer, like their other outings of museums and plays and music.
it would have been...nice. ]
I think you'll have to ask me to dance somewhere else.
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But when it sinks in, he slowly turns his head to look at her, a disbelieving sort of smile curling his mouth. ]
Really?
[ His heart pounds in his chest, stomach fluttering, and— Jesus, it's like having a crush grade school all over again, when the prettiest girl happens to glance his way. It's like fifty adrenaline rushes all at once, culminating in that warm, drunk feeling of a night of celebration, and—
Wow. Pump the brakes, Quill, he tells himself, trying to wrangle his smile it something— you know. Cooler.
More Star-Lord. ]
I'll— [ He clears his throat, shifting a little in his seat. ] I'll keep that in mind.
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(she'd like to see more of it.)
but it melts away into that star-lord smile instead, and she keeps herself from shaking her head. ]
Good.
[ she smooths down her dress, getting to her feet. ]
Maybe then I will sneak off to a dark corner with you.
[ aaaaand she's totally going to walk away from him after that to head back to the foyer. ]
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Yeah, maybe—
[ But he chokes on that last syllable, mouth working silently as the words finally settle, and— ]
Wait, what?
[ No, okay, he definitely heard that wrong. She definitely didn't— Gamora would never—
He stares at her retreating back, mouth still hanging open, trying to make sense of the last, like, minute, because he's pretty sure what she said – or what he thinks she said, or maybe what he thinks she didn't say, or... – has flipped everything on its head.
It takes him even longer to realize that she's managed to put a fair amount of distance between them while he's been sitting here, gawking, and he scrambles to his feet, running after her. ]
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