![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sep. 30th, 2020 at 7:05 PM
Who: Peter and whoever
What: Drink beer , shoot the shit, whatever
When: This evening
Where: Lounge
Status: In Progress
Warning: The alcohol appears to be flowing rapidly......Peter is giving relationship advice.... Danger Will Robinson, Danger.
Peter carried the ice chest full of beer down to the lounge and sat down in one of the leather chairs. Gamora had told him that a refrigerator was more than a receptacle for beer and soy sauce packets. She insisted they needed room for "healthy food" . He'd thought about storing the bottles underneath the seats in the cockpit and decided that even the remote possibility of the trash panda showing up , it was probably not a great plan to have alcohol and the controls to an intergalactic jump drive within close proximity.
He decided there had to someone in the tower who would agree, that pouring perfectly good beer down the drain was a direct insult to all that was good and just in the galaxy.
Eleanor walked into the lounge carrying a copy of the National Enquirer. She stopped at the chest, "These free?" At Peter's nod, she gathered up three and began to walk away, just as she was about to enter the hall she turned back and called out, "Mind if I ask you a question?"
Peter shrugged, "Sure, you're welcome, by the way."
"That ombré thing your girlfriend has? Is that natural? You know like does the upstairs match the downstairs?" Eleanor arched an eyebrow.
It took Peter a minute to parse what Eleanor was asking, he shook his head and replied, "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but damn...."
What: Drink beer , shoot the shit, whatever
When: This evening
Where: Lounge
Status: In Progress
Warning: The alcohol appears to be flowing rapidly......Peter is giving relationship advice.... Danger Will Robinson, Danger.
Peter carried the ice chest full of beer down to the lounge and sat down in one of the leather chairs. Gamora had told him that a refrigerator was more than a receptacle for beer and soy sauce packets. She insisted they needed room for "healthy food" . He'd thought about storing the bottles underneath the seats in the cockpit and decided that even the remote possibility of the trash panda showing up , it was probably not a great plan to have alcohol and the controls to an intergalactic jump drive within close proximity.
He decided there had to someone in the tower who would agree, that pouring perfectly good beer down the drain was a direct insult to all that was good and just in the galaxy.
Eleanor walked into the lounge carrying a copy of the National Enquirer. She stopped at the chest, "These free?" At Peter's nod, she gathered up three and began to walk away, just as she was about to enter the hall she turned back and called out, "Mind if I ask you a question?"
Peter shrugged, "Sure, you're welcome, by the way."
"That ombré thing your girlfriend has? Is that natural? You know like does the upstairs match the downstairs?" Eleanor arched an eyebrow.
It took Peter a minute to parse what Eleanor was asking, he shook his head and replied, "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but damn...."
Comments
He didn't want to think that he had lost Hope. But, especially without a brain like hers on the problem, they were stuck here, and there was no way to predict whether he would ever see her again. "Yeah?" he asked, glancing up at Peter.
"Probably should focus on the full time dad thing anyway. I missed most of Cassie's teenage years the first time."
"Mine was a teenager, now he's a toddler trying wipe pigeons off the planet," Peter took another drink, beginning to feel the glorious buzz of brain cells dying.
"When Groot was a teenager, he called me boring? Me. Boring."
"Please, you're not boring. You're like an intergalactic..." Scott paused, took a drink, finishing off the bottle, and set it on the table with a thud. "Actually, I'm not sure what you do, but I bet it's fucking cool."
"You're a shrinkydink? How does that work?" Peter stretched out his legs and took another swig of beer.
His brain latched onto the word 'steal', "That's bullshit man. Sometimes you need to just steal some shit." Peter gave Scott a sidelong glance, "From the bad guys.... you know." He took another swig. "Income inequality, man. It's a social justice thing, right?"
He took another long pull of beer. "Just gotta make sure you don't get caught, is the thing."
"Got arrested with my girl. Prison woulda been a drag without her there. Still. Had to bust out, freakin' guard stole my Walkman," he snorted.
Scott leaned back on the couch, "You know what we should do?" He took another drink. "Plain a heist."
The Ravagers had taught Peter a lot of things. One of the most important was that success was dependent on practice, especially when it came to larceny. He and Gamora had plenty of credits, but it had been too long since he'd pulled off a decent score. He nodded at Scott, "I'm down. What we gonna' liberate?"
"Well, I actually did some research already," Scott ran a hand through his hair. "Long term I'm going to need Pym particles to power my suit. In this reality, Cross Technologies is where we'll find them. Plus Darren Cross is a real jackass, so I wouldn't mind kicking his ass in another reality."