|lastzehoberi (lastzehoberi) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-09-22 14:49:00
|Entry tags:||gamora, peter quill/starlord|
Who: Gamora and OTA to Warehouse inhabitants
What: She's not dancing. Shut up!
Where: The living room area
When: Mid afternoon
Status: In Progress
Gamora did not yet know where she fit in this strange world and even stranger house. The scientist girl, Jemma, had created a baseline of her vitals and kept muttering under her breath about how very facinating it all was and making a note to tell someone named 'Fitz'. Occasionally that would make her sad. There were the couple, the baby and the teenage boy, all friendly, except the baby who sometimes stared at her. Didn't cry, just stared. It was possible Gamora confused him. There was the industrialist that had persisted so much in prodding her with things, because she was green it seemed. And the girl skilled in computers who she didn't know a lot about besides her name and that she had been part of a team with the scientist and the man that had briefly slain the Asgardian that had dealt, or rather, would deal, with her father. They didn't seem to like the man so much.
Perhaps he was 100% a dick.
She mused this and her general surroundings for a while before reaching to turn on the television. Not for any real reason but she decided music was one of the things she could approve of in this world. Not all of it of course, she mused, flicking through channels. Some of it was ridiculous, not even any real lyrics.
"Now I gotta cut loose...Footloose"
"Kevin Bacon" she exclaimed with a wry grin thinking of Quill and his stories. His lines, as they were. And suddenly the most dangerous woman in the Galaxy found her feet tapping. Which was ridiculous of course. She did not dance. Much.
No one was here.
It was fine. And the story of Footloose did really intrigue her.
She jumped to her feet letting the music take her as Quill kept insisting she did. And it really was rather pleasent all in all.