[ 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.
[ Her expression softens a bit when he laughs--she's sure he's laughing at how terribly awkward this all is, but that's already an improvement over his indecisiveness over whether this should be happening or not. ]
I'm an expert in a lot of things, actually. I'm full of surprises.
— is how he nearly replies. But that’s not fair, and really, it’s more him than her, and more the thought of her than actually her, anyway, and—
He huffs out another quiet little chuckle. Jesus, he’s a wreck.
At length, he settles on, ] Just have a lot on my mind. It’s not anything you wanna hear.
[ Then, wryly, ]And besides, there’s a distinct lack of overstuffed leather couches for me to sprawl out on, and I don’t think you’ve got a notepad and a pen. Pretty sure those are a prerequisite for me bearing my soul.
[ She quirks her brow at him, a little unsure, but it fades into a small and sincere smile. She has no doubts that an assassin has their fair share of Thoughts about Things at any given time unless they're that cold-blooded, but--well, she doesn't mind that there's still this sort of human side to Peter, apparently. Of course, she is blissfully unaware at the moment that the real reason Peter's been so on edge is her. ]
[ Ah. He falters a little, because he was hoping the bit about couches would’ve thrown her off, and maybe he would’ve explained Woody Allen movies to her, because man, it’s shocking how many Terrans know so little about the classics—
He flounders for a second or two, scrounging for the right words, then, slowly, ]
I guess, uh. If you really wanna know. I’ve been kinda— you know when it’s like, you… think about something, when you know you shouldn’t? But you keep looping back around to it anyway? Like getting a song stuck in your head.
[ She looks off to the side thoughtfully for a second. Sure, it sounds like getting a song stuck in your head. But to Kasumi "actual hopeless romantic" Goto, it also sounds a lot like-- ]
Then what about the opposite? Facing the problem head-on.
[ She tilts her head at him, puzzled. Then, after another contemplative moment...
She's got a vague feeling she's involved, in some fashion. Maybe he's trying to figure out where people he knows that aren't work contacts or clients fall in the spectrum of interactions an assassin has with people that don't involve killing them. But he somehow... can't stop thinking about it? (Kasumi, for once, is a little clueless, if only because of how confusing he's been all this time.) ]
[ Not an option he likes, granted, but an option all the same. He glances over at her, sees the puzzled look on her face, and offers a half-hearted little smile. ]
It's one of those things where... you've known your whole life that this one thing is true, but then later on, you start thinking, "Maybe it's not so true after all?"
That's not necessarily a bad thing to think, right?
[ She gives a half-smile of her own, mostly to try and convey that she's... like, here for him. Or something. For whatever that's worth between a thief and an assassin. ]
[ That question gives him pause, and he frowns at the floor as he thinks it over.
What the hell would he do, indeed?
It's difficult to think about, because so much of his life has been spent with the mantra, Trust no one, humming at the back of his head. Trust no one, because every connection meant a weakness, meant a liability, meant a mistake. Trust no one, not even the man with the pointy smile, who'd smack you on the shoulder and say, Good work, son. Because he was the same man who'd punch the shit out of you for one wrong move, or one wrong word. ]
That's the thing, I guess. [ Slowly, thoughtfully. ] It's been with me so long, I'm not really sure how I'd be without it.
[ Her lips draw into a thin line when he frowns, and she tilts her head, as though she's trying to catch his gaze as he looks down. Slowly, and not without hesitation she pulls a hand away from the railing and places it on one of Peter's arms in a supportive gesture--against her better judgment, certainly, considering Peter Quill probably knows, like, twenty different ways to kill someone in this kind of situation.
But, well, it wouldn't have been the first time he's tried to kill her. Though he's had plenty of chances to do so since then. ]
You're going to be alright, Quill. I don't think it's bad, whatever it is you're going through. Things change, people change. You're allowed to do that.
[ He tenses at her touch – caught off-guard, certainly, but his instincts aren't so ingrained that a kind touch would spur him to violence. It's enough to make him glance at her hand, though, enough to make him look over in surprise. He smiles softly after a second, something a little rueful. ]
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I didn’t realize you counted psychiatry as one of your realms of expertise.
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I'm an expert in a lot of things, actually. I'm full of surprises.
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Wouldn't you like to know?
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I mean, kinda now, yeah.
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Yeah, figured that one was a long shot.
[ He falls quiet again, examining some crack in the floor, then, ]
I, uh. What should I be calling you, right now?
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And you?
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Peter Quill's fine.
[ To head off any questions, he lifts both shoulders in a shrug. ]
I'm off the clock.
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Huh. Alright. So, what's bugging you, Peter?
[ It feels like it's the first time that she's calling him by his real first name, at least out in the open like this. Weird. ]
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— is how he nearly replies. But that’s not fair, and really, it’s more him than her, and more the thought of her than actually her, anyway, and—
He huffs out another quiet little chuckle. Jesus, he’s a wreck.
At length, he settles on, ] Just have a lot on my mind. It’s not anything you wanna hear.
[ Then, wryly, ]And besides, there’s a distinct lack of overstuffed leather couches for me to sprawl out on, and I don’t think you’ve got a notepad and a pen. Pretty sure those are a prerequisite for me bearing my soul.
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Try me. I'm a good listener.
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He flounders for a second or two, scrounging for the right words, then, slowly, ]
I guess, uh. If you really wanna know. I’ve been kinda— you know when it’s like, you… think about something, when you know you shouldn’t? But you keep looping back around to it anyway? Like getting a song stuck in your head.
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Or like having a crush on someone. Right?
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… Yeah. [ Quiet. Just the tiniest bit strained. ] I... guess? Not really sure.
[ Because it’s not like he’d know personally, or anything. ]
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I'm guessing you've already tried going cold turkey.
[ Strange, she's getting a feeling of deja vu... ]
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[ actually, that was pretty on the nose, but he'd rather not admit to it. ]
Kinda hasn't worked out, though.
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[ She tilts her head at him, puzzled. Then, after another contemplative moment...
She's got a vague feeling she's involved, in some fashion. Maybe he's trying to figure out where people he knows that aren't work contacts or clients fall in the spectrum of interactions an assassin has with people that don't involve killing them. But he somehow... can't stop thinking about it? (Kasumi, for once, is a little clueless, if only because of how confusing he's been all this time.) ]
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I mean, maybe. It's an option.
[ Not an option he likes, granted, but an option all the same. He glances over at her, sees the puzzled look on her face, and offers a half-hearted little smile. ]
It's one of those things where... you've known your whole life that this one thing is true, but then later on, you start thinking, "Maybe it's not so true after all?"
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[ She gives a half-smile of her own, mostly to try and convey that she's... like, here for him. Or something. For whatever that's worth between a thief and an assassin. ]
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I guess not always. Not so sure on now, though.
[ A pause, and he shakes his head. ]
Anyway. That's what's going on, without getting too detailed. Nothing particularly fun or interesting.
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[ Her half-smile takes a bit of a teasing edge to it, but hopefully keeping things light. ]
Okay, so, say you never knew that one thing that you're questioning now. You never learned it or something. What would you do?
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What the hell would he do, indeed?
It's difficult to think about, because so much of his life has been spent with the mantra, Trust no one, humming at the back of his head. Trust no one, because every connection meant a weakness, meant a liability, meant a mistake. Trust no one, not even the man with the pointy smile, who'd smack you on the shoulder and say, Good work, son. Because he was the same man who'd punch the shit out of you for one wrong move, or one wrong word. ]
That's the thing, I guess. [ Slowly, thoughtfully. ] It's been with me so long, I'm not really sure how I'd be without it.
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But, well, it wouldn't have been the first time he's tried to kill her. Though he's had plenty of chances to do so since then. ]
You're going to be alright, Quill. I don't think it's bad, whatever it is you're going through. Things change, people change. You're allowed to do that.
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I dunno. Lives we lead? Change can be dangerous.
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