video; @gamora

[godslay]

[ When the camera switches on, Gamora is in her apartment, Godslayer across her lap (diligently cleaned and freshly oiled), and she’s holding her communicator with her usual unreadable expression in place. ]

I want to expand my training opportunities. Those looking to spar or test their abilities – I want a challenge.

[ And with a slight lift of her brow— ]

Or let me know if you simply want others to practice with. Tell me how you prefer to fight, and we can work something out.

[ What a friendly and welcoming message.

… Except definitely the opposite of that.

Gamora is working on that “reaching out” thing, on trying to get a better idea of who and what surrounds her in the city, and she might as well use it as a chance to stretch her legs and potentially come up against a worthy opponent or two. ]

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

You don't just ask for a cheering squad. [ and he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. ] Sometimes, you just get one.

[godslay]

Then how do I send it back?

[nostalgiabomb]

How dare you.

[ in the flattest voice in the galaxy. ]

[godslay]

[ And equally flatly: ]

Ditch the pom-poms.

[nostalgiabomb]

What? But that's, like, an integral part to the cheer experience!

[ especially considering Peter's primary exposure to cheering comes almost entirely from high school movies, where cheerleaders were frequently in their uniforms for almost the entire film. Just in case the audience forgot they were cheerleaders. ]

[godslay]

You're distracting enough as-is, without any additional... [ She pauses, waving a hand vaguely. ] ...flailing.

[nostalgiabomb]

Dude. Come on.

In what way am I distracting?

[godslay]

By existing.

[ Which is not actually intended to be flattering, but. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It certainly doesn't sound flattering. ]

... Real nice, Gamora.

[godslay]

[ In an attempt to explain just a tiny bit more: ]

You draw attention to yourself. It's difficult not to look at you.

[ ... Because he's gregarious. Clearly. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He lets the words sink in for a moment, pressing his lips together.

Then, brightly, ]

On account of my being so handsome, you mean.

[godslay]

That definitely was not what I said.

[ But it's also not necessarily untrue.

Not that Gamora would ever outright feed his ego. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

But it was implied.

[ that's fine man no one needs to feed the fire that is Peter's pride.

he does it well enough on his own. ]

[godslay]

Or you have an unruly imagination.

[ Potentially both. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Nah. I'm pretty certain of my good looks.

[ Definitely both. ]

You're okay to say I'm handsome, you know. The sighted world is already pretty aware of it, so it wouldn't be telling me anything new.

[godslay]

If you're already certain of it, then why do you need me to tell you?

[ Still... not... saying it. ]

[godslay]

[ She looks at him and the lightsaber appraisingly, then finally nods. ]

I would be willing to test my skill against yours, if you're interested in crossing swords – provided your blade won't damage mine. I assume it's some kind of energy field?

[godslay]

[ That seems to be an acceptable enough explanation, and she simply nods, willing to leave it at that. ]

Then we can opt for hand-to-hand. How much experience do you have?

[godslay]

[ ... She looks so unenthused by this news. ]

My driver or a driver in general?

[ pls not her driver. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Clearly you've never heard of positive affirmations.

Sometimes, it's just nice hearing things aloud from other people.

[godslay]

Your ego is big enough already. You do not need my help.

[ — And the word comes before she pauses to think about it, though she tries not to let that flicker of realization cross her face. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Maybe Gamora tries not to let it show, but Peter's not nearly so in control. He visibly winces at that, and his jaw tics as he clenches his teeth together.

It was an easy mistake. And god knows it's hardly Gamora's fault that his douchebag of a father chose such a fucking apt descriptor as his name. Egotistical prick.

Still, his gaze darts away, and he swings his legs off the couch to sit up properly – a weird, defensive instinct, as though being sprawled out as he had been made him vulnerable.

He forces his tone to remain light and unconcerned, ]

I'll just take it as understood, then.

[godslay]

[ Gamora knows it was a slip the second it happens, and she can't take it back or— apologize? Can she?

She leans her weight a little more on the back of the couch, watching Peter intently as he looks away, sitting up. ]

... I didn't mean that.

[ Well, she did, but she didn't mean... that. ]

[radicalspeed]

Yours, theirs, everyone's! I'm apparently driving teammates during exploration or search and rescue, outside of the wall. Ah, just like old times.

[He looks SO VERY ENTHUSED TO BE ON YOUR NERVES.

Privately.]

I'm delighted to be on your team, especially one with so lovely a face!

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He gives a wave of his hand, breezy and mild. ]

I know you didn't.

[ (did he, though?

Mom's voice in his head: You're so much like your daddy.

And his father, calling him a "great man," taking pride in how much Peter has taken after him, even without his presence to guide him.

His stomach rolls.) ]

I mean, what're you gonna do? [ He feels a little sick, but he refuses to let it show. ] Excise the word "ego" from your vocabulary?

It's fine.