Peter Quill (
nostalgiabomb) wrote2017-07-03 11:01 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riverview: ic contact;
You've reached the voicemail of Star-Lord. Hit me with your best shot. Or— crap, wait, I should've quoted "Call Me" instead. Aw, dammit. Is it too late to— [ BEEP ] [ text | video | voice | action ] |
USERNAME
|
no subject
She watches him clip the device to his belt with a faint smile (there's something relieving about seeing it there again), but she wonders what will become of the little gift.
Apparently, nothing tonight.
She meets his gaze, taking a short step back as she breaks contact. ]
Of course. You should have them.
no subject
—And belatedly, he sort of realizes he had kind of sort of bear hugged the hell out of her, even if Peter isn’t a huggy sort of person, and an awkward flash of realization crosses his face. Gamora tends to be a little protective of her personal space, and he offers a small, apologetic look. ]
Sorry about, uh. [ He gestures vaguely. ] That. Earlier.
no subject
She shrugs, brushing it off. ]
It's fine. It didn't bother me.
[ She's the one who just reaches out and grabs his hands sometimes.
... But she doesn't do hugging, really. ]
no subject
Yeah, alright.
Thanks for not, you know, karate chopping my throat for it.
no subject
[ Unless Gamora really, really didn't want to be touched at the exact moment he went in for one.
Or maybe if he surprised her especially badly.
Or maybe if he deserved it. Who knows. ]
no subject
So instead of insisting that getting punched in the neck isn't a typical response to being surprised by a hug, he just shakes his head, a little amused.
He should get cleaned up; he should take care of the scrapes and cuts on his hands and forehead. He should do a lot of things, but that can come later. He pulls the headphones connector out of the Walkman’s socket and nods toward the bedroom. ]
Come listen to this with me.
[ There’s a small speaker on his nightstand with his Walkman’s name on it. ]
no subject
The corner of her lips lifts (something small and private, one of those little smiles she so often reserves for Peter), and then she nods. ]
I have the time.
[ And even if she didn't, she'd probably make it for him.
With Peter's directing, she heads into their bedroom to take a seat on Peter's bed – not paying much mind to the mess of blankets – and draws up her legs to make herself comfortable. ]