p r o t e c t o r

         “ I suppose it depends on if you’re            in the brawl or simply watching. “

She’d much rather take the latter.  She was all flight and no fight.  But it was still a shame that her lateness resulted in her missing whatever there was to be seen.   There’s a sigh as she quickly brushes the hair behind her ears.  Oh well.  Next time.

      "Oh, I'm not so much a fan of being in it,        but with the people I usually hang around        it's sort of hard to avoid."

                  She grins up, although there is a hint of pain                   drawn through that. She misses them. A lot.                   And the worst was that she had no idea at                   all; where they were, if they were well — the                   uncertainty might kill her all over again.

                  But that's her problem alone.

He shifts to a sit, following her example in getting a more comfortable position. This could’ve ended very badly – but she’s nice and he’s glad he didn’t scare her away.

      “You’re cute. Unless of course you don’t        like being cute, then you’re fierce and         intimidating, obviously.”

As far as he’s concerned it’s definitely not weird, and totally necessary. Why would one not apologize to a dog – they deserve it just as much as humans  might ( if not more ). 

                  She smiles brightly, a most relaxed and also                   relieved expression when she sets her legs                   below her own body so she doesn't have to                   lean down anymore to reach out.

                                    “Phyla-Vell? ”

                  Truth be told; she did not expect to come back either,                   at least if there had been a chance for her to think                    about it. Her goodbye had been a very quick and near                   unexpected one, and the realm of death was barely a                   place to relax and think much.

                  And she does not know why she gets another chance,                   but her own smile freezes when she watches Gamora's                   expression. And she wonders what has happened since                   then. Just what had gotten her this as a reaction.

Well so much for that then.  She let out a sigh at the woman’s words, hands tucking into the pockets of her jacket.  Stalls were already being taken down, awnings retracted.  The thinning crowd should have been a dead giveaway too; but she was ( wrongly ) holding on to the hope that maybe it was the weather that was keeping people away.

But when it came right down to it, it was her own fault – she hated being late for things, especially when the out- come was completely in her control.  

She smiled back briefly, a bit embarrassed about her now obvious question.

        “ Just my luck.  This was supposed to be the last big           one for a while too.  It’s only going to make things           worse if I ask if there was anything interesting, but –           was there any fun?  

      "Isn't that what people do think of as fun?"

                  She releases a short laugh, and that feels good                   to do again, too. It feels generally good to be                    outside and walking and breathing (and maybe                   she is having a sensory overload, or perhaps                   already went through it.)

He’s a bit more relaxed now that he’s identified her presence and sniffed at her a few times, starts to grow a bit more curious. She’s interesting - seems to have a good heart. That’s an important detail. 

   “— ruff.” 

      “I’ll try to make sure it won’t happen again.”

                  She’s apologizing to a dog. Is that weird?                   Does that mean she hasn’t been between                   people for too long? It’s not like she cares                   all that much. Instead, she gently draws                    over it’s head.

     “ Just like that. I mean, it’s not magic or         anything. Just good, old-fashioned luck. ”

                 But she smiles, offering her a hand. Not like she’s                  planning on selling her out or anything. Just looking                  for a way to spice up her afternoon.

                  Well, she can't just sit around and wait for things                   to happen, can she? That's most likely not what                   she has been granted a return to the world of the                   living for, and while she has no idea what is the                   reason, it can't hurt to actually get on the move                    and do something.

                  Even if it's just getting a drink. And lunch. She                    literally hasn't eaten in years. Not that that                    really counts, right? 

      "Alright. I'm Phyla." 

                   There are only a handful of reasons why Ace would ever                    help someone. Chief among them? Boredom. Weaseling                    her way in on other people’s problems – whether or not                    she’s actually helpful – will, at the very least, keep her                    from wanting to stab herself. Even criminals have off days.                    No jobs on the horizon, no chaotic inspiration. Why not                    approach the sad looking woman at the other end of the                    center? Might be interesting.

                  But only a bit. It's been too long to cut herself short                   of people, no matter how strange it might seem.

      "What, just like that?"

       ❛ it  is exhausting. ❜

      "Everyone has. Even if they are small, I don't        believe there's anyone truly without regret."

           “ — ruff?” 

                  Smile drawn over her features upon the canine                   in front of her. Reminds her of someone — too                   bad that's quite a while ago. 

There’s familiarity in that notion, and for a moment or two, she could picture herself having this very same conversation with someone else.  It makes her smile, if only for a moment.  But still, it’s nice.

      "Really? Guess I'm flattered then."

                  At least the way the other woman talks of                   the one in question makes it sound like it's                   a good thing indeed. And Pama knows,                    there sure is a lack of good things. 

Places like these had always been her favorite.  Ever since the first time she had insisted upon going to the Floating Market with her father, 

              ( positive she could make it through the entire three hour                 trek without a problem, only to wind up getting tired a half                 hour in and spending the rest of the trip perched on her                 father’s shoulders ) 

they had been a way for her to wander without going too far.   A chance to socialize under the guise of business,   where conversations ( and tempers ) seemed so much smoother because of it. The only problem of course was the way they tended to just pop up with very little warning.  

Made catching them all the more troublesome if you didn’t have the right person to talk to.  And apparently this time, she had missed that important step.

                            “ They’ve started packing up already, haven’t they? “

                  She blinks — a bit in surprise upon someone actually                   starting to talk to her now, and a bit because she was                   still wrapped up in her own mind and worries, and a                    tiny bit because there was this strange hope of it being                   one of them, well, alive, but at least that one quickly                   fell to pieces again.

                  This blonde woman is completely foreign to her. Still,                   it does not keep a smile from drawing up her lips just                   a bit. This is still better than nothing.

                  Even while she realizes the words were not aimed at                   her directly. It was still something. 

                  (after a while of being dead, you don't really care who                   it is that talks to you, as long as it's someone)

      "Sounds exhausting."