[She's not asking for volunteers, but because she doubts simply driving away is allowed by the Mayor. She's just curious as to how aggressive the consequences are.]
( that's a weird question and, quite frankly, one that peter feels he should be asking her instead of the other way round. he's not, like, deeply familiar with the avengers and is primarily only familiar with the x-men thanks to kitty, and whilst he knows — in a loose definition of the word — that earth-based vigilantes have not always made the best decisions ever, or been involved in the greatest of plans, or even just plain Done Good Things, that's not just an earth thing.
she'd asked if he also went by star-lord, so he thinks she must know something of him. they're not from the same universe, so he doesn't know if the peter quill she knows ("knows") was involved in any galactic wars, doesn't know if she knows him for being a very charming (thank you) thief-slash-space pirate, but he thinks that if she knows of him, she must know something of what to expect from him.
so he wonders why she's asking. the question sits with him for a moment as he finally takes a sip of his coffee. all at once, he screws his nose up and looks down at the contents. the fact that it's — no exaggeration — about five-hundred degrees doesn't manage to disguise the fact that it's burnt, bitter, and tastes like it's been brewing for longer than peter's been alive.
he takes another sip before pointedly looking out a window. )
Mm, yeah, you're right, ( he mutters dryly, pausing to place the coffee cup back down. the porcelain sounds a soft thud against the coated wood of the table and he pushes the mug away from him, a few centimetres towards the middle of the table, a small trail of hot left in its wake. ) I'd much prefer to be sat in my flarking creepy as shit motel room, making bets with myself on when it's next going to ask for a bodily fluid.
( yes, okay, the mayor had apologised for that, but what kind of weirdo asks for blood in the first place? absolutely a weirdo that will ask for more blood — or worse — in the future. )
Are you sure? ( he asks, looking back at her and attempting to meet her gaze. )
[Really, Wanda knows next to nothing about him, be it the Peter from her universe or this one. She's exchanged words with this one, which might actually put him ahead. She's not very big on socializing, on getting to know the faces around her. Maybe she'd know better if she'd ever approached the Peter of her universe.
She watches this one drink his boiling tar with a downward pull of the corners of her mouth.
It was a genuine question.
But she supposes his answer is just as genuine.
She meets his gaze with a slight shift in her seat, holding it for the few moments she can before retreating to the depths of that coffee cup that's come a little closer.]
I'm sure. We don't have anything to lose and nowhere to be.
( he makes a noise that's a cross between agreement and acknowledgement when she gives her own answer — that is what it comes down to more than anything else: they don't have anything to lose. or at the very least, he doesn't, though it's interesting to note that she feels the same way.
more than that though, more than personal losses and gains, is the question of what if they're not cursed, what if this is just some bizarre multiversal ploy to gather question marks in second question mark, because peter's really not sure what the end game here would be. or why, or just—
—anything. )
Good.
( he shifts his weight and reaches into a pocket to pull out a map that he unfolds and places on the table between them. from his other pocket, he pulls out a pen that he immediately taps against his lips. he'd seen that someone else had replied to wanda's post and they'd mentioned a barrier to the west, but he hadn't seen any mention of distance or whether it was, like, before the coast. )
Someone mentioned a barrier, right? ( a beat. ) So unless we want to retrace their steps that leaves us with— ( a wave at the map: everything else. ) Alderglen's here— ( he indicates a small marked point to white pines' east. ) I figure that's as good a place as any to start. ( and ""borrow"" a car. )
[What-if can lead one down a dark road. Wanda sighs and moves the coffee cup away from any maps and hands, not keen on making a mess before they've even set out.]
Right. [A harmless barrier, from the sounds of it. Not worth mentioning until she asked. She stares down at the maps, the little roads and streets and lines and colors, and that it all looks so plain and normal makes her gut clench.
The worst sort of prison to be in, maybe.]
It's as good of a plan as any. If that guy who responded to me only got turned around, I doubt we'll run into anything more sinister.
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just two disasters out here trying their best
she'd asked if he also went by star-lord, so he thinks she must know something of him. they're not from the same universe, so he doesn't know if the peter quill she knows ("knows") was involved in any galactic wars, doesn't know if she knows him for being a very charming (thank you) thief-slash-space pirate, but he thinks that if she knows of him, she must know something of what to expect from him.
so he wonders why she's asking. the question sits with him for a moment as he finally takes a sip of his coffee. all at once, he screws his nose up and looks down at the contents. the fact that it's — no exaggeration — about five-hundred degrees doesn't manage to disguise the fact that it's burnt, bitter, and tastes like it's been brewing for longer than peter's been alive.
he takes another sip before pointedly looking out a window. )
Mm, yeah, you're right, ( he mutters dryly, pausing to place the coffee cup back down. the porcelain sounds a soft thud against the coated wood of the table and he pushes the mug away from him, a few centimetres towards the middle of the table, a small trail of hot left in its wake. ) I'd much prefer to be sat in my flarking creepy as shit motel room, making bets with myself on when it's next going to ask for a bodily fluid.
( yes, okay, the mayor had apologised for that, but what kind of weirdo asks for blood in the first place? absolutely a weirdo that will ask for more blood — or worse — in the future. )
Are you sure? ( he asks, looking back at her and attempting to meet her gaze. )
two negatives make a positive
She watches this one drink his boiling tar with a downward pull of the corners of her mouth.
It was a genuine question.
But she supposes his answer is just as genuine.
She meets his gaze with a slight shift in her seat, holding it for the few moments she can before retreating to the depths of that coffee cup that's come a little closer.]
I'm sure. We don't have anything to lose and nowhere to be.
science!!
more than that though, more than personal losses and gains, is the question of what if they're not cursed, what if this is just some bizarre multiversal ploy to gather question marks in second question mark, because peter's really not sure what the end game here would be. or why, or just—
—anything. )
Good.
( he shifts his weight and reaches into a pocket to pull out a map that he unfolds and places on the table between them. from his other pocket, he pulls out a pen that he immediately taps against his lips. he'd seen that someone else had replied to wanda's post and they'd mentioned a barrier to the west, but he hadn't seen any mention of distance or whether it was, like, before the coast. )
Someone mentioned a barrier, right? ( a beat. ) So unless we want to retrace their steps that leaves us with— ( a wave at the map: everything else. ) Alderglen's here— ( he indicates a small marked point to white pines' east. ) I figure that's as good a place as any to start. ( and ""borrow"" a car. )
no subject
Right. [A harmless barrier, from the sounds of it. Not worth mentioning until she asked. She stares down at the maps, the little roads and streets and lines and colors, and that it all looks so plain and normal makes her gut clench.
The worst sort of prison to be in, maybe.]
It's as good of a plan as any. If that guy who responded to me only got turned around, I doubt we'll run into anything more sinister.
[They already started with blood, anyway.]