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[closed] and i'll tell you all about it

WHO: Gamora (

justlethal) & Peter (

nostalgiabomb)
WHAT: Meeting
WHERE: Near grocery store, District 1, north-west
WHEN: A few days after their arrivals
WARNINGS: Will update as required. Maybe some yelling.

[She does perhaps make a sight, for a number of reasons. The first is that her skin is green, even if she is humanoid in appearance. The bone structure of her face is slightly different mind, although it's not overly noticeable, but enough to draw a second look anyway. Her face is framed by strands of hair that are ombred, starting one colour and fading to another. Her expression is... less than impressed, although with Gamora, that tends to be a typical state of being. She's ignored the others around her, set off on her own, seeking answers.

Gamora does not like surprises. It doesn't matter whether it is a pleasant surprise or a not so pleasant one. She likes to be prepared, at least to some level of preparedness. Here? She's on edge. It is like someone prepared a city and then started dropping individuals in. For a brief moment, Gamora had thought it had had something to do with what had transpired just before her own arrival, but it makes no sense. Then again, little of this place does. She has been exploring, trying to find answers. They are severely lacking. She knows that she has just covered a small amount of the city, starting north and heading west, but so far, everything seems like it has been explained.

Trying to leave has proven to be true. You cannot. Not that Gamora is sure what she is trying to achieve by this. Go where? It's a day of walking, making marks and crossing parts off on the map that she has found. It's not until her stomach truly starts to grumble that Gamora calls it a day. Backtracking to one of the grocery stores that fall along her route, she tallies what she does know as she walks on silent feet. It's pitiful, although every little piece of information can help to build a bigger picture.

The sun is starting to drop by the time she approaches down the street of the store. She'll grab whatever and return to the hole she has found to rest, before another day of rinse and repeat. It's passing looks to anyone that she passes, although that leave me alone air remains. Her eyes pass over him once, not quite registering, before her head snaps back, even as she halts in place. She blinks, once, twice, as if expecting it to be some trick, before her voice breaks.]

... Peter?

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[ He flounders again, uncertain of what to say. He could keep summarizing the past eight years, and part of him wonders how absurd this must all sound, wonders how insane she must think he is.

Once he gets to the cherry on top ("there's also another you from the past running around, by the way"), he wonders if she'll stomp away, furious with how ridiculous he's being.

He hesitates, visibly thinking up and discarding thought after thought, before he deflates a little. ]

Are you all right?

[ Because that's what he's been wanting to ask from minute one, but he knows the answer can't be anything but "fuck no, you idiot." ]

[Being deceased is one thing. It's not like she had had much time to think about it when it had happened. She's had more time to do so since arriving here, from those first moments of thinking this is whatever came after, to the knowledge that it isn't. Not that it makes things any clearer. How can she still breathe, still feel, still feel hunger? She glances down at her own hand, fingers curling and uncurling. Likely still bleed, although it hasn't come up.

Gamora had asked much the same of Nebula, if the Guardians has been alright after. She could give the same answer, with the knowledge that fine is a subjective answer. Really though, Gamora has no idea how to answer that. They've all lived, carried on as they could, had adventures, trials and tribulations. It is life, to be lived. To do otherwise would be to stagnate. To be still. It's... Where she stands. Not that it is anyone's fault, but she's missed chapters of their stories as her own book is done.]

I have no choice but to be.

[It's not like she will burn the city down or go on a rampage. Might feel like screaming sometimes- now, break down. Vulnerability isn't a garment that Gamora tends to wear.]

[ It's not the flippant "fine" he was expecting, but neither is her answer a total surprise.

He nods – a little too much, a little too fast – in lieu of anything better to say, because he's way out of his depth, here. He has no idea what to do – and, well, it's not as if either of them have been in a situation like this before. It's not like there are very many people who have tips for what to do or say when your girlfriend comes back from the dead after one of those most devastating things to ever happen to the universe.

Well, he doesn't know what to say except this: ]

I missed you.

[ And it comes out on a rough whisper.

His hands clench into fists to keep himself from reaching out. Even though he wants to. Even though every nerve in his body is screaming at him to do it. He's a selfish bastard – a bad habit he's never outgrown – but he doesn't know if his touch would be welcome, right now. Not when she's clearly so conflicted. ]

Every single day, I thought about you. I missed you so much.

[Fine would be meaningless to say. Fine would be seen right through. She owes him more than that, after everything, with what he means to her. Love is not something she had ever thought to find and certainly had never sought out, and yet she had found it in him regardless. Fleeting and not long enough, but it hadn't made it any weaker for it.

That soft intake of breath when he says that. She misses him as well, every waking moment since that event on Knowhere. There had been that hope that she would be able to return to them, return to him. Even when she had taken him to Vormir, there had been a part of her that had still thought she might be able to break free from his control again.]

... I'm sorry I didn't go right.

[Whether it would have made a difference, Gamora didn't know. Maybe, maybe not.]

[ He thinks of about a dozen things to say – things that are liable to send them back to arguing in circles. Instead, he takes a second to steady himself, to temper his voice into something soft and earnest. ]

I'm sorry, too.

[ They had bee well out of their league – and hadn't Gamora tried to warn them, over and over? But years working with the Guardians had gone to his head, had made him feel at least a little invincible.

Lessons in hubris, he guesses.

He glances around the store, thankful that they still managed to maintain some semblance of privacy, and he takes a hesitant step towards her. ]

I'll make it up to you. I promise. Just— tell me what you need.

[Even Gamora had not been aware of the extent of how far Thanos had gotten, even with the warning from Thor. Hindsight, she doesn't know if she would have stood by the decision to go to Knowhere, but there had always been that chance that maybe, just maybe, they would have been able to stop him or at least hold him back until they had been able to strengthen their numbers or think of better plan.]

Peter.

[There's that shake of her head, although she speaks, lest there be any further misunderstandings. Years stand before them, and distance. There's enough uncertainty that they don't need more.]

You have nothing to make up... You did as I asked, even knowing the cost. Not even understanding the full why of why I asked such a thing of you.

[ Another loaded hesitation – because he wants to argue again, wants to insist that he hadn't done what she asked, really. That he had tried but hadn't been fast enough, had hesitated far too long—

But he recognizes that they're both stubborn as fuck. The only common ground they have in this matter, he thinks, is that they're both absolutely certain that the other is blameless, and that they're both absolutely certain that they're fully culpable for ushering in Thanos' plan to wipe out half the universe. ]

Okay. Yeah.

[ Quietly again, because for all that he thinks she's wrong for not placing the guilt on him, he recognizes, at least, that they're not going to get anywhere with this. ]

Then, let's just— let's put all that aside. Just— is there anything you need? Something I can do for you?

[She'd been just as quick, not thinking she had given any hint, and yet Thanos had halted her own actions to stab herself. What matters to Gamora is that Peter had done as he had promised in the end. He had pulled the trigger. It might not have done as they expected, but that alone... She knows what it had cost him and yet he had still done it with the intention of things actually working as they should.

She knows that tone. Knows that there is far more that he isn't saying. She knows him. He'll bear the weight to his grave if he allows himself to do it, burdened under the pressure, but Gamora had spoken the truth to Peter. She doesn't blame him, not in the slightest.]

I don't really- [There's that scrunching of her forehead and a slightly frustrated noise. She doesn't have an answer for that. What does she need? Nothing and everything and she has no idea. Answers about this place, but he can't give them. Time. Memories. Life. There is no snap of any fingers to make that happen, even if the latter she does have, in whatever way that means. Nebula is one thing, and Peter another... They're both important people to her, but they've both gone through shared experiences that she will never understand.] - know.

[ Yeah. He should've figured that.

He hesitates again, before reaching toward her, palm up in offering. ]

Well, to start. [ And he makes a conscious effort to lighten his tone, the shadow of a smile crossing his face. It's not convincing, not in the slightest, but he's trying. Nothing about what they experienced – nothing of what Gamora experienced – can be hashed out in a single semi-private conversation.

If he can say nothing else in this stupid city's favor, it's that at least now, they might have an opportunity to try. ]

Maybe I can carry your groceries for you. Unless those bananas are providing a lot of emotional support.

[It's a glance toward his hand- nothing hostile or aggressive, but inquisitive. It's not presented like a handshake, which Gamora would have found to be a completely strange gesture. Nor it is presented for a high-five.

It's back up that her gaze shifts when he speaks. The look isn't convincing, and Gamora knows it well enough. That smile that isn't genuine, that is brought in those situations when he is attempting to bring one, but can't quite. She can't blame him for it. As unsettling as it is for her to realize that she's almost a decade dead, she understands that it's the reverse perspective for him. Days ago for him is years, and it makes is no less awkward.

Bananas. She had been holding them, perhaps a little too tightly, although she doesn't understand why they would be emotionally supporting her. Physically supporting her, in that she does still need to eat. Her mouth opens, to say they aren't heavy but she doesn't speak. Her eyes quest over him, truly taking in his features, before her hand rises, to set them in his grasp.]

They are regular bananas.

[Or as regular as bananas in this place can be.]

[ There's an awkward second where he's absolutely sure that she's going to scoff at him and turn away. When she doesn't, though, and when she lets him do this small favor for her, he lets out a near inaudible sigh of relief. ]

Yeah, I know. I'm sure there's other stuff you wanna get, though, right? And you didn't get a basket, so...

[ He shrugs a little. ]

I don't mind lending a hand.

[No, she is not just eating bananas. It is fresher items she seeks out, as she has already stocked up on some non perishable products since her arrival. For all she knows, they may wake up one morning to find this place even more barren than it currently is. Better to prepare for that lest she find herself unprepared, which she would rather not be.

There is that small shrug of her shoulders.]

I’ve two hands and myself to feed.

[And she had been distracted, off her game. There’s that longing for that ease that had been there, those quiet moments in the ship before Drax had interrupted or Rocket had blown something up. She’d honestly take either, or even the touch of Mantis, if it meant she survived.

She could have managed just fine without a basket though.]

You have your own shopping.

[Although it is hard to tell if it is a statement or a question. Hard for her to figure it out as well. For all the unspoken thing between them, it had eased into a proper thing. Them. Until Knowhere, when everything went sideways and instead of days, weeks or months apart- Once more Gamora has no idea what to make of this place. But it doesn’t stop that soft gaze from resting on Peter.]

[ He worries, for a heartbeat, that she means to brush him off, and even for all the years that have passed for him, there's a large part of him that longs for them to fall back on old habits, to pretend that nothing had ever happened, and that the purple scrotum-faced whackjob had never crossed their path. ]

I can take care of it later. Or—

[ And his tone takes on something carefully nonchalant. ]

—or we could just. You know. Consolidate. Get enough for two. [ Since, at this point, he isn't aware that Nebula is here, as well. ]

[It is like a dance. Gamora doesn't quite know the steps to this new song. She doesn't like to be in the dark, to not understand, and would rather have all the information at her disposable to form a plan of action. She isn't a fan of flying by the seat of her pants, prefers strategy, even if she knows that sometimes adjustments need to be made. Have to be made.

That gentle stillness that looms, seemingly for an eternity although it is perhaps two seconds before there is that slow nod of her head.]

The bananas are mine. For tomorrow. But... consolidate something, together.

[ He puts on a slightly tentative smile at that little offering. ]

Yeah?

[ And because Peter is the type of guy to be given an inch and run it for a mile— ]

Where have you been staying? 'Cause, you know. It might be smart if we joined up. Strength in numbers, kind of thing.

[Has she claimed a space? In a manner of speaking. A spot to sleep, store some items for later use. Not that she stores them all in one place, and has a few caches here and there, hidden away in case. This place is a little too unbelievable after all.

Here, have some food! Here, have some place to sleep! Whether those here are actually all brought together or if some are masquerading to blend in, Gamora hasn't been able to figure out. Might not be able to regardless, depending on how well they hold their cards close. Some simply cannot keep a secret or have a tell, but tells require time to figure out.

Here, no longer be death and here, have your friends who have lived years beyond what you know or will ever know and enjoy digesting that...]

I just- give me some time?

[ He can't help the way his smile falters at that. For as good as a liar the Ravagers trained him to be, Peter can't help but wear his heart on his sleeve, at times.

But, yeah. Okay. He gets it. This— is a lot. He is a lot. The other Gamora hadn't said as much to him, not in so many words, but that was kind of the gist, right? He at least learned that he couldn't push his expectations on anyone else. People weren't puzzle pieces and couldn't just be fitted into the empty spaces, despite how much he wishes that were true.

And just like the alternate Gamora, this Gamora – even if she may be the one he fell in love with, even if she may be the one that fell in love with him, and it's only now that he realizes what a rare and beautiful thing that was – deserves some time and space to figure things out for herself.

So he nods. He swallows around the ugly lump in his throat. He forces himself to smile again, even if it's a tentative, barely there thing. Once he trusts his voice to stay even, ]

Yeah. Sure. Of course.

[ What are other ways to express your agreement, Quill? He realizes how redundant he must sound before he clears his throat a little. ]

Take all the time you need.

[She knows what she asks, just as she had known what she had asked of him before Knowhere. It isn't that she doesn't love him any less than she had, but... But there's a gap, an unease with that knowledge. Arguably it's not something she is supposed to know, and really, she shouldn't know. Yet she does, just as she is still alive, despite not meaning to be.

He is trying, even if he might not actually mean that fully, and she appreciates it. It's tentative, her hand reaching out, to give a squeeze on his shoulder. He's real. She's real. Or as real as any of this reality is.]

Thank you.

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[closed] and i'll tell you all about it

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