alnifolia | open rp post 2.0

Suit yourself.

[ She shrugs before continuing to sip on her drink with the straw because she is a classy lady. ]

Want to get out of here after we down these drinks?

Yes.

[ Ah. Maybe that was a bit too quick. He takes a drink from his glass to hide the brief flash of embarrassment.

It’s not that he’s unused to crowded places like this, or even that he dislikes them – on the contrary, packed clubs are some of his favored locales, when it comes to work. Slipping in and out of a crowd comes as easily to him as breathing. Mingling and making small talk is second nature, so long as he has a well-formulated front.

Being himself, though – he has trouble with that as it is, much less while he’s shouting over the din of conversation and music, picking his words carefully to avoid being overheard.

He waves a hand. ]

No rush, though.

Works for me. I'd probably die if I tried to rush this drink, anyway.

[ Kasumi doesn't mind crowded places, either, and it makes her work easier depending on what she's doing. Like swiping something from a drunk, privileged man-child, for instance. But she would be lying if she said she didn't prefer quieter, more secluded spaces--just that the opposite can be fun, once in a while. Tonight is apparently one of those whiles. She'd hadn't planned on lingering much after completing her work and finishing her last drink, but all things considered, she doesn't mind how this has worked out, even if she knows Peter will just disappear again after. ]

Have any place in mind?

[ He takes a second to rack his brain, thinking of options. ]

There's a cafe near here. Might still be open. Or, uh. The docks are nearby. If you want, we could...

[ He trails off, gaze settling on the contents of his mug. He adds, ]

There's a good diner I know of, too. If that's better for you.

[ It's not hard for her to miss the way he trails off. ]

So that's, like, two and a half options there.

[ She quirks a brow. ]

What's at the docks?

[ He hesitates, stalling by taking a drink. Then, slowly, ]

It's, you know. Where my ship is.

[ She had a feeling it was that. But the danger of Peter inviting her to his ship--even if he never actually finished doing so with the way he trailed off--doesn't escape her. And at this point, the danger isn't so much a fear that Peter might still turn and decide to kill her; while there's a lingering suspicion that she's sure he feels as well, he's proven over the few times they've encountered each other since that he's not out to get her. He even warned her against another assassin after her. The danger lies more within Peter's career. He's not the first assassin she's ever encountered, but what makes him so good at his occupation is the hard line he's drawn between personal affairs and the professional.

She knows she's toeing that line. Regardless of what would happen, for him to invite her to his ship is different from inviting a random person to his ship and--well, crap, that's what all of this was about, wasn't it? Why he'd been so hot and cold, why he eventually cut her out, and--having unexpectedly bumped into each other again--why he's been in a state of what she can only describe as quiet, controlled panic all night? It's because he doesn't know what in the hell to do with her.

Kasumi is silent for a contemplative moment or three, her gaze fixed completely on him, searching for an answer to her questions in his expression. In the end, she leans in closer so she doesn't have to yell, and she can only say one of said questions out loud: ]

What do you want out of tonight, Peter?

[ When she moves in close, he goes rigid all over again, forcing down that instinct to react, to move, to keep her out of his space by any means necessary, and—

Well. That's been the problem all along, isn't it? Trying to keep Kasumi Goto, best thief in the galaxy, out. Even if he doesn't really want to. Even if it's her job to get into restricted, locked-down areas with concrete walls topped with electrified barbed wire. For twenty-six years, he built up those defenses. In one night with Donovan fucking Hock, a crack formed, and over the months that passed, that crack became a weakness.

He cares, of course. He's ready to repair that hole and block out the world again, but—

Twenty-six years. That's a long time to go without letting anyone in. ]

I... really don't know. [ He admits it with a quiet, bitter laugh. ] I just...

[ ...missed you.

He trails off again, grasping for words that won't come, before he sighs. ]

I don't know. [ A beat, then, ] It probably wouldn't surprise you to know I haven't had a clue what I've been doing all night.

...It's a shocker, honestly.

[ Still, her voice isn't dripping with sarcasm but with something more resigned. Kasumi doesn't know much about Peter Quill; she suspects he doesn't know much about her, either. All she knows is that as Star-Lord, he's an assassin who's damn good at his job. As Quill, he's from Earth, he's got a family there--she doesn't know about how long that wall of his has been standing, she doesn't know that he's missed her. All she knows is that there is a wall, justifiably so, and that if he really wants to keep her out, then that's his choice.

But he doesn't seem like he really wants to keep her out. Otherwise, he would have turned a blind eye to her tonight and pretended they were never at the same place at the same time.

And what about her? Kasumi's got walls of her own. It's got windows and crap for the people she lets close enough to her, but they'd been boarded up since Keiji died. And usually it takes much more to let someone through--certainly more than "I was hired to kill you and then I didn't and we ran into each other a few times after that." But there's something about Peter, what little she's seen of the man, that leaves her wishing there was something more between them. Even if it's shallow, or fake, or just friendly. Just, something.

Maybe it's because he's not the only one who's lonely. ]

I'm not really sure what I'm doing either, you know. I thought I'd never see you again after last time.

[ Peter’s not sure if that’s an observation or a quiet little jab, the fact that he’d so strongly encouraged the two of them to never meet again. He had worked pretty hard at making that suggestion a reality, too, working quietly and covering his tracks so completely that he was practically a shadow. If it hadn’t been for tonight, who knows how long he could’ve kept it up?

Should he apologize for disappearing? He glances over at her, a pensive frown on his face, but decides against it. Seems arrogant of him to assume she’d care. Seems pointless if, after tonight, they come to the mutual agreement that, yeah, maybe this friendship thing? Playing with fire. Playing hot potato with a live grenade.

He downs the rest of his drink in a few gulps, the beer cool and bitter, and pushes the empty glass away. ]

I guess we should… talk this out. [ Slowly. Thoughtfully. He adds with a rueful little smile, ] Figure out what the hell we’re doing.

[ Kasumi's pretty quick to sip on the rest of her drink in the silence that passes, too, but thankfully this is exactly the kind of shitty bar where the glass contains three drops of alcohol total for the price of a whole bottle.

She's rather surprised he suggests talking it out rather than switching the topic or circumventing, and she casts another measuring glance at him. ]

...I mean, if you're sure. Though we should probably get out of here if we want to do that.

[ he nods his agreement. ]

You got any preferences? [ You know. From the illustrious two and a half options he offered earlier. ]

[ She'd really rather have whatever conversation's going to follow somewhere private--that way they don't have to dance around the whole "I'm a thief, you're an assassin" thing. ]

...Is option two and a half still up for consideration?

I... [ He chews it over for a second before nodding slowly. ]

Yeah. It's on the table. [ Admittedly, it's a more convenient choice than coming up with clever little euphemisms for their chosen careers while sitting in public, but part of him worries this might be a step too far for both of them. ]

If that's what you want, I mean.

[ It's not hard to tell he's not completely on board. ]

Well, better there than a diner.

And you know what, this conversation might end up being short anyway, in which case I'd never make it to your ship. But that's up to you. It's your ship.

[ He shakes his head after thinking it over. ]

No. It’s fine. And—it’s better we talk about this in private.

[ Which means behind closed doors, rather than while they’re wandering over on the street, where anyone could overhear them.

He pushes away from the bar, mind made up, and extends a hand to her once again. ]

If you’re ready?

[ She sips on the last of her drink before setting it back on the bar and giving the bartender a nod of thanks. Then, she turns to face Peter and takes a deep breath. ]

Let's go. I might lose my hearing if we stay any longer anyway.

[ before she takes his hand. ]

[ He leads her out of the bar – at some point, he swears he feels a set of eyes on the two of them, and his paranoia tosses up road flares and warning signs. Peter glances around, sees the guy whose wrist Kasumi nearly broke earlier that night, staring daggers at him over his glass, but he dutifully ignores him. Best not to engage, and he doubts the man got a good look at him, anyway, in the poor lighting of the club.

The streets are busy; they always seem to be busy, on stations like this, with its day and night cycle providing only a vague suggestion of business hours. Ships were constantly docking, which meant ships were in constant need of fuel, of supplies, of booze to wet their shipmen’s lips and food to fill their stomachs. They weave their way through the crowds, and soon enough they find their way to the docks.

Peter’s ship is small, and in contrast with the darker colors Peter generally clothed himself with, brightly colored with blues and oranges – an old paint job he just never got around to redoing. He hesitates for less than a second before punches in the code for the bay door, admitting the two of them to the common area. It’s a pretty Spartan affair, despite the controlled mess of a bachelor life, with the only oddity being an antique tape deck built into one wall. ]

So. [ He draws out the word, the metal doors spinning shut behind them. His weight shifts from one leg to the other, hands stuffed in his pockets. ] Home sweet home.

[ Kasumi begins to take stock of what's around them almost as soon as they're through the door (but don't worry, she's not planning on stealing anything), more out of curiosity than anything else. This is, after all, the home of an expert assassin. She spends the most of that time looking at the tape deck on the wall, recognizing it immediately as a pretty much ancient artifact, and were they not here to talk about Serious Things she might have already asked him about it. Instead, she looks at him when she speaks up and folds her arms. ]

--Thanks for, you know. Letting me in here. I can't imagine you do that for many people.

[ At least, not many of her nature. ]

Yeah. Not many people make the cut.

[ It’s a very select few, which exclusively numbered himself and Yondu – and in the case of the latter, not altogether willingly. His one-night stands typically involved renting out some shitty room or heading back to their place; bringing someone here was a risk.

Especially if they happened to jostle loose one of the knives concealed in every room. That would surely be an awkward conversation.

And one would think that inviting a thief into one’s home would be inviting trouble, but—well. Peter’s a goddamn hitman. He stares trouble in the face every day; what’s a bit more?

He walks past her to the table in the common area, taking a seat and waving to the one opposite him. ]

I’m surprised you were even willing to come. Considering… [ He gestures to himself. ] …what I do.

[ She keeps her arms folded as she walks across and even when she slips into the seat across from his. Partly as a defensive gesture, partly to show that her hands are not secretly pocketing things around the ship. To his comment, she shrugs. ]

I figured that if you still wanted me dead, I would've been dead a long time ago.

[ He smiles a little wryly. ] I feel like you might be giving me too much credit, there, but I’ll take it as a compliment.

[ And maybe to someone else it would be in poor taste to joke about, you know. Killing people. It’s not something Peter takes lightly, by any means, but it’s certainly not a delicate topic as far as he’s concerned.

Fidgeting in his seat, he picks up a hex key from the table – something he uses while maintaining his blasters – and twists it in his hands. Slowly, he ventures, ]

… So.

[ He pauses, trying to find words to put this delicately, then, and when the tactful approach escapes him, he exhales sharply.

The blunt approach, instead: ]

What the hell are we doing?

[ If this were just another one of their meetings at a soiree, Kasumi might have said something like well, if you kill me here, at least I'll have died by the hand of a seriously attractive man, but--they're not, and now is hardly the moment for such a comment. Instead, she keeps quiet, watching him almost squirm in his seat and pick up that hex key. When he poses the question of the night, she sighs. ]

You tell me, Quill. You're the one who bailed for months after I said I was... I don't know, interested.

[ Yeah, okay, now finally seems an appropriate time to murmur, ]

... Sorry.

[ He ducks his head, gaze fixed on some oil stain on the table. ]

I just... wasn't sure what to do. No one's ever— I mean, no one who knows what I do has ever— [ He trails off before waving a hand, as if to say, "You know." ]

[ She gives a shrug. Her lips are drawn into a thin line that just barely turns into a frown, and she looks at something off to the side--a bunch of tools he probably uses to keep his gear in check, or something. ]

I figured it might've been something like that after a while. Just--this time, maybe tell me you're planning on cutting me out after I leave. I understand, honestly.

And if you run into me again, just... pretend I don't exist like you did before.

[ She's trying to put on a brave front, although she's not really sure it's working. But it's easier this way, telling him she gets it, because at least this way she knows not to hope for anything to happen. ]

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