punk’s… interesting greeting goes to waste on the agent of the nine, the question and the pointing. the figure doesn’t look up at first, head turned down, looking at either his hands or the tree he’s standing in. he doesn’t speak, either.
it isn’t until punk comes to stand in front of him that he takes a step back and finally looks up. bright yellow eyes against a dark, writhing face peer back at her from under his hood. he seems almost bewildered by her presence, yet welcoming all the same.
“i am xȗr,” he answers with a rough voice, unexpectedly deep. “agent of the nine. i come here bearing gifts.” he sounds like he’s trying very hard to be understood. “but, you… you are not here for those. are you? you are here… for something else.”
He doesn’t react at first, and Punk finds herself briefly puzzled, until he looks at her and speaks. The surprise at hearing his voice makes her laugh a little more. It’s not that she means to make fun of him, of course, she just laughs far too easily.Â
“Nah man, I’m just here to hang out for a bit. I’ve heard people like, talk about you a lot, and the stuff you carry, but I’m here for you.” Wait, no, that’s ominous. Dial it back Punk. “I mean- Sorry, I mean I’m here to hang out with you because from what the Guardians are saying, you sound pretty cool.”
She sticks her hands into the pockets of her gray hoodie, her posture as slack as can be. “How’d you know I wasn’t here for the stuff, though? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally broke, but I didn’t say anything about not wanting guns earlier. Ooh, do you read minds? What am I thinking about right now??”
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