Whenever Mr. Hock's done talkin' with you, maybe we'll discuss that further, huh?
[ Granted, he's pretty sure Hock's plans for her don't really involve her still breathing much longer afterward, but he blithely sidesteps that little matter.
He directs her here and again, keeping the barrel of his gun pressed into her back, and leads her into a small, brightly lit, undecorated room that screams interrogation more than it says guest quarters. There's a chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room, adorned with straps meant for keeping the prisoner in place. And Peter was not in any way surprised when Hock had initially shown him here.
"If you happen to capture her alive," the man had said as he opened the door, allowing Peter to peek in, "bring her here. No need for the restraints -- she'd simply slip out of them, anyway. Just be on your guard." ]
Take a seat, Miss Goto. I've got a call to make.
[ His voice is still practically frigid, and he pushes her forward roughly. There are cameras everywhere, after all. Hock's a paranoid motherfucker, and Peter has to respect that. He touches the side of his helmet, and with a few little gestures, he patches himself into the security network, tells whatever assholes are running maintenance on it to call their boss -- Star-Lord has a present for him. It's a few moments later that he receives acknowledgment and confirmation that the boss was on his way back from wherever the hell his trip had taken him. ]
Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Mr. Hock should be here in a while.
no subject
Whenever Mr. Hock's done talkin' with you, maybe we'll discuss that further, huh?
[ Granted, he's pretty sure Hock's plans for her don't really involve her still breathing much longer afterward, but he blithely sidesteps that little matter.
He directs her here and again, keeping the barrel of his gun pressed into her back, and leads her into a small, brightly lit, undecorated room that screams interrogation more than it says guest quarters. There's a chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room, adorned with straps meant for keeping the prisoner in place. And Peter was not in any way surprised when Hock had initially shown him here.
"If you happen to capture her alive," the man had said as he opened the door, allowing Peter to peek in, "bring her here. No need for the restraints -- she'd simply slip out of them, anyway. Just be on your guard." ]
Take a seat, Miss Goto. I've got a call to make.
[ His voice is still practically frigid, and he pushes her forward roughly. There are cameras everywhere, after all. Hock's a paranoid motherfucker, and Peter has to respect that. He touches the side of his helmet, and with a few little gestures, he patches himself into the security network, tells whatever assholes are running maintenance on it to call their boss -- Star-Lord has a present for him. It's a few moments later that he receives acknowledgment and confirmation that the boss was on his way back from wherever the hell his trip had taken him. ]
Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Mr. Hock should be here in a while.