Peter Quill

“Tandy, this is crazy.” Tyrone was giving her a look that Tandy has come to know well. That expression of sheer disbelief he had been giving her since the day they had re-met.

“And?” Tandy raised an eyebrow, staring back at her partner impatiently. “Maybe crazy is what people need. Gotta get the message across somehow.”

“Have you thought this through?”

“Do I ever?”

“Girl, you’re going to be the death of us.”

“Hey, we’ve beat death like twice now. That means nothing. Now make with the portal already!”

“I’m coming back for you as soon as this starts going south.”

“Worrywart.”

“One of us has to be.” With a sigh, Tyrone pulled her in, darkness enveloping the two of them from where they were hiding in their church and dissipating over one of the NYC streets…a bit higher up then Tandy had been prepared for. As the darkforce’s grasp released her, she dropped into the roof of a bus, stumbling a bit on the landing. Somewhere in the distance - or perhaps in the back of her own mind - she could have sworn she heard Ty laughing.

No matter. She straightened herself up, grabbing the sign she had brought with her and holding it above her head.

She hadn’t exactly been expecting someone to end up her with her.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that part. Really. That was far from my best landing.” She shrugged, grinning slightly and standing a bit straighter. “You could say that though.”

“Y’know it’s possible tah do that without whinin’, right?” Anna sighed, hands on her hips in a stance her students and co-workers would know well. “Only technically?”

“I am not whinin’! This is my normal tone!” Peter gestured at his sidewalk chalk art. He was proud of it! It had started off looking a bit rough around the edges, but it was definitely a bird in a tree with sunshine! “Well it’s not gonna end up in a museum or nothin’, but I drew it!”

“If I come get you, I won’t be gentle and you’ll complain about it all night. I’m asking you one last time, put these blankets back where they belong”

          Quentin is initially tempted to playfully refute the others argument regarding the topic of destiny despite it being one he isn’t particularly enamoured by - the temptation to tease further is only kept at bay as previous experience with the two friends saw that this back-and-forth could happily go on for hours, the engineer slowly stirring the proverbial pot for Quill to grow increasingly excitable. “Hey.” The developer slowly leans in instead, a gentle nudge of his elbow placed against the side of the spaceman’s ribs with an earnest reply. “The world needs dumb-asses.”

                    Drifting thoughts teeter on the edge of particular memories, lingering on one specifically where Quentin had been preparing to leave home for college, a sweltering Californian summer stubbornly meandering towards the start of fall, foliage not quite altering in colour or succumbing to a crispness in the atmosphere. It had involved a handshake between the father and son within the doorway of his bedroom, soon evolving into an awkward embrace which was half-heartedly reciprocated on Quentin’s part - he didn’t understand the significance of the gesture at the time, the student confused considering he had plans to return a few months later— Idle fingertips run through the brunet’s hair, the motion effectively brushing aside the thoughts of home, more than happy to reside in the here and now.

          “Seems a little unfair but something tells me if you build up a reputation as an  outlaw,  there wouldn’t be that many people willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Besides, we live in a world— uh,  galaxy,  where someone with so-called  ‘status’  has more leverage than the little guy.” There’s a small snort of laughter with the mention of the movie’s synopsis, Beck’s mind trying to place Quill in the scenario with ludicrous outcomes bordering on hilarity. “I can appreciate your good deeds whether you see yourself as a hero or not but… who’s to say that you’re completely in control of your actions..?” Quentin lets the nefarious notion linger for a moment, a spark of mischief in his eyes before reverting back to referencing the aforementioned movie. “For all you know,  you’ve  got a chip at the back of  your  neck. Food for thought.”

“It’s a mess. You stop this. We have more serious things to do.”

“Y'know, yah sound like some o’ the kids Ah teach. Ain’t sure it’s a good look for someone your  age.”

“It’s a very good look. I’m stayin’ young at heart! What’s so wrong with that, huh? ‘Sides, this is art. Technic’ly.”

‘ give it up, man, an’ i’ll pull strings for ya. just quit it. it don’t have to be this way. thief’s honor. ’ 

‘ i’d never wanna make y’cry, babe. an’ i’ll always be the guy cheerin’ y’up. ’ 

“And that makes it okay? Look at this Mess!”