alnifolia | open rp post 2.0

[ It's the thud that catches his attention, focused as he is on clocking his target's time of death and drowning those weird things the songs call feelings with his beer. With the dim lighting and the hazy atmosphere, it's a little hard to tell, but for a second, he swears that woman teaching some asshole a lesson is—

And then she's passing by, and he partly turns away from the bar, tracking her progress, and— yeah. It's definitely who he thought it was. Before his good sense can catch up with his mouth, he quietly blurts out, ]

... Goto?

[ with the sort of inflection one might reserve when asking, "What the hell are you doing here?" ]

[ Seeing as she'd been introducing herself with a different name the whole night, that someone says her real name is a bit of a surprise. Among other things (dangerous being one of them). So she stops in her tracks and tosses a glance over her shoulder, brow quirked--and it's Peter "Star-Lord" Quill. Odd, he'd made it abundantly clear at their last meeting that he thought getting involved in any capacity was a bad idea, and even moreso after she didn't hear even so much as a whisper about him for the next couple of months. Even keeping her ear close to the ground, she didn't hear a thing, and so she figured he was laying low, probably trying to shake people off. People including her. And--that was fine.

What isn't fine is that in spite of the strange coincidence that they're both here, he calls her out. By her real surname. In the end, she says, ]

Think you've got me mistaken for someone else. What a shame.

[ He doesn't, actually, and the knowing smile she casts him says that. But it wouldn't do her any good to be like, "Yep, Goto, that's me," so instead she starts taking a swig of her drink as she turns back around and keeps going in the direction she'd been going in. He didn't want them crossing paths, so why should he let that happen now?

Still, part of her hopes he'll follow. She did kind of miss that handsome face of his, after all. ]

[ Well, shit. Smooth move, Quill.

Okay, she's definitely toying with him, and he knows it. And she probably knows he knows it, and maybe Peter should let her walk away. He should leave well enough alone before this problem he has becomes a giant goddamn problem, one that he won't be able to back away from.

He watches her retreating back for about a half minute, then turns back to the bar, resolved to let her go. His fingers tighten around his glass.

Another handful of seconds, and he finds himself reluctantly glancing over her shoulder, spotting her in the crowd again, and—

(Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the atmosphere. Maybe he's missed her (which was silly – they barely knew each other.) Maybe it's after months of willful seclusion, Peter is just— lonely.)

—he throws back the rest of his beer. The empty mug clunks against the bar's top, barely settled before Peter starts weaving his through the crowd after her. When he's at her elbow, he says, ]

Hey, uh, miss. [ Real fucking smooth, Quill. ] Sorry about that. Mistook you for someone else, obviously. Don't hold it against me?

[ She stops in her steps abruptly and turns around, which then brings her close to him. Pressed to him, almost, unless he crashes into and topples her over instead, although the crowd around them would probably make that difficult and at the very least really awkward. Regardless, she looks at him with a perplexed look. ]

Can I help you?

[ He pulls up short when she whirls around, and thankfully manages to keep himself from tripping over her and bringing them both to the floor. Bad enough he's stumbling as it is – he doesn't have to literally do it, too.

Peter wears a lot of masks at any given time, but usually he has time to mentally prep, to put together a character. This off the cuff, play-acting thing? A little more difficult. Talking, apparently, isn't Peter Quill's strong suit.

So he falters, wincing, and bowing his head as he lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck. ]

... No, maybe not.

[ He hesitates again, risking a glance up at her. ]

I, um. [ Another slightly awkward pause. ] Just wanted to, uh. Say sorry. About— before.

[ For bailing on her. For disappearing. But maybe it's arrogant of him to assume she even cared? He winces again at that thought, taking a half-step back. ]

Sorry, uh. Never mind. Forget this happened.

[ After the few encounters she's had with Quill--the smooth, undercover assassin--to hear him tripping all over his words is a little surprising, to say the last. The loud music isn't helping much, either, and she strains to make sure she can actually hear him, tilting her head a little. She's not sure she caught all of it, but she is sure that she's hearing him say sorry. At least twice. And that's what he always does, isn't it? He finds her, comes up to her, and as soon as she gives him the time of day, he acts like it it's a mistake, that it should've never happened in the first place, and says it's better if they part ways. Mixed signals.

It's frustrating. But what's even more frustrating is that it doesn't need to be--she could disappear from his life just as easily as he did from hers. And despite the fact that Kasumi could very well just continue walking away to do that, she says, ]

Why don't we talk somewhere else?

[ Another hesitation, and he glances around. By now he knows Goto isn't planning on selling him out – but maybe that's just stupid, blind trust? He can practically hear Yondu shouting at him from across the cosmos to get his head out of his ass.

He's quiet for just a hair too long before he lets out a breath, nodding. It's not like things could get any worse from here, anyway. ]

Yeah. [ He gestures vaguely. ] I can follow you.

[ At least she manages a playful grin once he answers and she responds-- ]

Try to keep up.

[ before turning around again, depositing her now-empty glass at the earliest convenience, and heading for the doors that lead out to the bar's outdoor terrace (or as "outdoor" as it could get on a space station). There, the crowd is a little less rowdy, but at least it's more private and quiet. She leads them all the way out to the edge, and once they're there she leans over with her forearms resting on top of the railing. ]

What're you doing here? Work?

[ Come to think of it, she's pretty sure she saw an unconscious man being dragged out by the bouncers in the middle of the commotion earlier. And now she's pretty sure he wasn't just unconscious. ]

Actually, don't answer that.

[ And keep up he does, following a pace or two behind her. (And old instincts has him keeping track of the bouncers and mentally mapping possible escape routes, but that, at least, runs in the background.)

The contrast from the bar to the terrace is almost off-putting, and as the doors swing shut behind them, muting the booming music, Peter glances around. (A mental count of how many people were out here; not nearly as many as he expected, honestly.) He trudges after her up to the railing, turning to lean back against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

He question – and immediate retraction – earn her a slightly wry smile (the first of the evening), and he lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ]

No comment, then.

What about you? I don't exactly picture this as being your kinda scene.

[ The corner of her mouth curls in a smirk as she gives him a sidelong glance. There's the wry Quill she knows. Or kind of knows. ]

Here for work.

[ And she trusts that's enough of an explanation. ]

And, apparently, to steal hearts.

[ He huffs out a laugh, making a show of rolling his eyes. ]

You still on the clock, then?

Nope. Finished up while everyone was distracted by some guy getting tossed out.

[ Cue another knowing glance since she's like, 99% sure at this point that was Quill's doing. ]

[ He blithely ignores her look, eyes cast up to observe the artificial sky. ]

Yeah, I saw that. Some guys can't hold their liquor, I guess.

Yeah, what a damn shame.

[ She takes that as a confirmation of her suspicion, thank you, and laughs quietly to herself before she turns her head to look at him properly. ]

How've you been? I have to admit, I was pretty sure I'd never run into you again.

I've been— good. Mostly. Busy.

[ He could make a joke about how business is booming, but maybe that's a little macabre? It's sad how true it is, though. There's really no shortage of people who want other people dead.

He also resolutely does not add, Yeah, that was the intention, to her comment about never crossing paths again, because clearly that's not really working out for him, is it? ]

What about you? Had any trouble since...? [ He gestures vaguely. The last time they saw each other, he had warned her about the price on her head. ]

[ It's Kasumi's turn to give a dismissive shrug. ]

I'm still around, aren't I?

[ So clearly, whatever party (or parties) had it out for her have not followed through on that end. Though she has to wonder if that might change after running into Peter. She's kept her end of their bargain all this time, and sure he warned her about the last time someone sent a hitman after her, but Kasumi would be hard-pressed to think that meant anything beyond his continued gratitude for her silence, and that this gratitude continues to hold up after months on end. ]

You're not the only one who knows how to pull a disappearing act.

[ He flinches a little at that, and if it were possible, he stares more intently at the station's high ceiling. ]

Yeah. Guess so.

[ He shifts his weight, almost nervous. Then, ]

I'm, uh. I'm glad you're alright. For what it's worth.

[ Fancy that, an assassin telling a thief (one that was also a previous mark, even) "I'm glad you're alright." She's silent for a moment as she looks at him with an incredulous look on her face, even though he's pretty set on staring up at the fake night sky. ]

Thanks. [ A beat, then: ] What's your deal?

[ There's something... different about Peter Quill tonight. If Kasumi had to describe it, she'd say he seems nervous, when she's only ever known him as a man on a mission--well, several missions. To kill people in cold blood. The last few times they'd met, she would flirt with him and maybe he would flirt back, but for the most part they would part ways and go about their respective businesses. She knows she overstepped boundaries last time, when she said she was interested in him. She knows it's why he cut her off afterwards. But if he were so adverse to the idea... ]

Why did you come after me back there?

[ “What’s your deal?”

Yeah, that’s the fucking question of the hour, isn’t it?

It’s not like Peter can really pin down an answer for that, so it’s just as well that she moves on. Not that he has an answer for that second question, either, and part of him wishes his back were to a balcony, right now, so he could just tip himself over and avoid having to respond. And, yeah, maybe it’s a pretty stark contrast between the Peter Quill of now and the masks he wore before. Because before, he had answers. Right now, he mostly just has a metric fuckton of questions.

So he’s quiet for a second, lowering his chin and glancing over at her. Then, ]

Guess I was just surprised to see you. In a place like this, I mean. Caught me off-guard.

Surprised in a good way, I hope.

[ She's pretty sure it's the exact opposite, but oh well. ]

Well, I can assure you that our running into each other here is a complete coincidence. And that I'll be gone from your life again as soon as I walk out of this place.

[ Kasumi wears a wry little smile on her face, as much as she's protesting inside. But that is what Peter wants, right? ]

Right.

[ He lifts a hand, rubbing at the back of his neck again, and he curses himself for the way something twists at having his own words thrown back at him. He kinda had that coming, though, didn’t he? ]

I, uh.

[ He stops himself, clearing his throat. Then, lately, ]

… Right.

[ you said that already, Quill. ]

Eloquent tonight, aren't we?

[ Kasumi gives him another lingering, almost withering stare caught somewhere between wanting to say more and leaving things at that. In the end, she just shifts her gaze away from him and instead at the scenery beyond the terrace which, sadly, isn't much. Mostly just more buildings and stuff. ]

I didn't have anything planned for the rest of the night. So, you know. Just take your time.

[ … Right.

(You already said that. You can’t think it too, Quill.)

His shoulders sag under her stare, and he glances off to one side, weight shifting again as he fidgets. ]

Listen, if you’d rather be somewhere else – and, okay, at this rate, you probably do – I won’t stop you. This was clearly a bad idea.

Never said it was. You're the one who's been brushing me off.

[ She heaves a sigh as she shifts her stance, too, leaning over some more as she folds her arms across the top of the railing for a contemplative moment or two before she turns to face him again, with her side leaning against the railing. ]

Honestly, though, you're acting like something's seriously bothering you--and I'm no doctor, but keeping that kind of thing in is seriously unhealthy. I'm just--you know, here. If you need to talk. Or I could leave, if that's going to calm you down.

[ There’s something inherently ridiculous about this whole thing, honestly, and for a second, it suddenly strikes him. How stupid he’s being. How stupid his half of the conversation has been. For a long moment, he stays silent, aside from huffing out a laugh or two at himself, and pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand. ]

I didn’t realize you counted psychiatry as one of your realms of expertise.

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