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]

[ His expression scrunches up a little at that. ]

That seems like a conflict of interest.

[godslay]

Why? I'm the one doing the fighting.

[ So, clearly, she should get something out of it. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Well, I mean, there's always the off-chance where you're, like, not favored to win...

[godslay]

And if you win anything off of that, I want a cut.

[ Though Gamora's competitiveness means she doesn't much care for the idea of being less than favored to win. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

See? That’s what I’m talking about! Conflict of interest. I don’t want you to, like, throw the fight if you think you’re gonna get a cut of the profits no matter what.

[godslay]

[ That sure does earn him the flattest of flat looks. ]

You think I would ever throw a fight?

[ ... Unless someone's life was on the line or it was for the purpose of a mission, but in a low-risk competition? Absolutely not – and especially not for money. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He holds up both hands – placating, rather than surrendering. ]

Hey. I’m just saying, it’s all about appearances.

[godslay]

If you're going to be there, and you're going to bet, you're going to pay me.

[ Simple. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He studies her with narrowed eyes for a second, almost challenging. Then, ]

... As long as you don’t tell anyone you're getting a cut.

And we split it fifty-fifty.

[godslay]

[ She meets that challenge with her own intense stare, as moveable as a brick wall. ]

Sixty-forty.

And then I won't tell anyone.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He holds her gaze for a second longer. ]

... Deal.

[ And he punctuates it by holding a hand out to her. ]

[godslay]

[ Gamora glances down at his hand thoughtfully, not immediately taking it. ]

And I want dinner afterwards.

[ With the clear implication of, "You're buying." ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He pulls his hand back a fraction, eyes narrowing as he takes this under consideration. ]

Only if you pay tip.

[godslay]

[ She looks like she's thinking it over for a moment longer, and then: ]

Deal.

[ And this time, she extends her hand to him. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He takes one last second to think it over, but he takes her hand at last. With his other hand, though, he points at her, almost in warning. ]

Tell no one about this.

[godslay]

You have my word.

[ Besides, it's in her best interests to keep it to herself.

Though as she takes her hand back, she lifts a brow at him, not quite smiling. ]

Are you still going to take bets when you and I spar?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter could make a joke here – could point out the fact that he, at least, didn’t threaten to, like, break her spine or whatever – but he’s interrupted by that shadow of a smile, that challenging sort of look. His eyes narrow again, and at her question, he pulls a face. ]

Why would we spar? I’m not the one looking for a fight.

[godslay]

You could use the practice.

[ And she says it like a simple fact, certainly not as a suggestion. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ A touch defensively, ]

I'm doing just fine, thank you very much.

[godslay]

If you're fine, then sparring shouldn't be a problem.

[ And that challenge is so plain on her face. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ A flat look. Then, ]

Gamora, I spend most of my day wandering through an old city, running into things that would rather eat me than engage in hand-to-hand combat.

This is why I have guns.

[godslay]

Just because you have guns does not mean you will never need other skills.

Maybe you need better training.

[ Not that she doesn't think Peter is capable – in fact, quite the opposite – but there's a difference between formal training and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants brawling. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He makes a scoffing sound. ]

My training was fine.

[ well, actually, no, his training was not fine. His training consisted mostly of a grown-ass man coming at him, forcing him to literally roll with the punches. Things got a little better as he figured out how to use his speed and size to dodge and dart away, but training became a little more vicious, at that point. And when he grew older and started gaining some muscle, when he learned how to really throw a punch, that's when fights started getting dirty.

So, no. Maybe his training wasn't fine. Maybe his training wasn't structured. And he forgets that he admitted as much as the team sat around a campfire with his newly arrived father – that "training" was mostly a Ravager (usually Yondu) kicking the crap out of him until he was forced to learn to defend himself. But it's served him just fine, so far, and if he hasn't died yet, he's probably in a good spot. ]

[godslay]

[ Gamora has a fairly decent idea of what his training consisted of, thanks to what he admitted to Ego, and though she lacks details, she's seen him fight enough to glean most of it from the way he moves.

Well, he's still here, so that's something. ]

There is always room to learn more.

[ But she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. ]

It could be... fun.

[ ... "For who?" is probably the important question here, but. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His face twists into something skeptical. ]

Fun for you, maybe.

Unless you let me use a bag of tricks, I’m pretty sure I know how those sparring sessions are gonna go.