Even despite the traumatic experience of watching Showgirls, Gamora had accepted the low-paying dancing job that Peter had managed to squeeze her into for the same night he was DJ'ing. She had managed to secure a place as far away from actual patrons as possible, but within view of Peter so they could both look at each other. She didn't know about him, but while she wouldn't admit it, she felt better if she could see him every once in a while.
It had been some time since the night had started, and Gamora had to say that if she did not look at the people down on the dance floor, she was having fun. After a couple of hours she was told to switch with someone else and take a break, so she hopped effortlessly off of the speaker she had been dancing on and headed for the bar.
Gamora had battled (verbally) for the nondescript outfit she was now wearing. It could've been worse. It could've been, by all accounts, a lot worse. Even if she wasn't that pleased with whatever abomination they had done to her hair, making it stick up and out at all points, wherever she looked.
She asked for a bottle of water, then looked around, only to find Loki (or was it?) also standing at the bar. It took her a few moments deciding whether or not to greet him with the copious amounts of gold-neon makeup they had put on what they didn't know was a green face as well as the aforementioned halo of crimped hair all around her. When he looked her way, too close not to recognize her, Gamora sighed and waved. "Hi Loki..."