[ Alec keeps to himself, which isn't all that unusual considering he had been doing that before, but now he makes an extra effort to stay away from everyone on the ship. He's not just avoiding Peter, though he's especially avoiding Peter, but Alec is always thinking about how people perceive things. Avoiding them all is less likely to draw questions about why he's avoiding one of them specifically.
He has stopped reporting to Peter, mostly seeking out Gamora, sometimes the others if he has to. What few conversations he holds with his fellow Terran are from a distance and brief.
Hidden though it is, the red mark on his arm is always on his mind. Plaguing his every thought, gnawing uncomfortably at the back of his mind. The small space of the ship is suffocating, and every time he and Quill are forced to be within five feet of each other feels like the bars of a cage are ever closer to slamming down around them. (Years ago, before he left Earth, he remembers hearing the phrase "red ring of death" tossed around in relation to a game console. It seems scarily accurate to his current situation.) More than once, the urge strikes him to just run. To turn tail and get as far away as he can, to put Peter Quill and that damnable ring of color around his throat as far behind him as possible. It's tempting, and his bag sits packed and ready to go even now. Each time he talks himself out of it, if only because he knows what this job means to his career. There's too much riding on this, and if they continue to be careful, there shouldn't be a problem.
But then, of course, there is a problem. A problem in the form of a party, their one shot to start unraveling Vhenarl Grun's whole empire and getting away from Peter goddamn Quill for good.
Gamora makes a good point, and under normal circumstances, Alec would be on board, but not this time. Not with his freedom, his individuality, his very way of life, at stake. He straightens in his seat to offer protest- some bullshit about being more suited to behind the scenes work, but Gamora is quick to put both he and Peter in their places. (He even tries to appeal to her after the fact, feeding her a line about how she knows how Peter works much better than he does, and she's much more suited for this job, but she's not having it.)
He arrives in the common area of the ship similarly dressed and similarly anxious. The latter, he keeps behind his usual carefully constructed air of flippancy and ego. He already hides so much, what's one more layer? ]
no subject
He has stopped reporting to Peter, mostly seeking out Gamora, sometimes the others if he has to. What few conversations he holds with his fellow Terran are from a distance and brief.
Hidden though it is, the red mark on his arm is always on his mind. Plaguing his every thought, gnawing uncomfortably at the back of his mind. The small space of the ship is suffocating, and every time he and Quill are forced to be within five feet of each other feels like the bars of a cage are ever closer to slamming down around them. (Years ago, before he left Earth, he remembers hearing the phrase "red ring of death" tossed around in relation to a game console. It seems scarily accurate to his current situation.) More than once, the urge strikes him to just run. To turn tail and get as far away as he can, to put Peter Quill and that damnable ring of color around his throat as far behind him as possible. It's tempting, and his bag sits packed and ready to go even now. Each time he talks himself out of it, if only because he knows what this job means to his career. There's too much riding on this, and if they continue to be careful, there shouldn't be a problem.
But then, of course, there is a problem. A problem in the form of a party, their one shot to start unraveling Vhenarl Grun's whole empire and getting away from Peter goddamn Quill for good.
Gamora makes a good point, and under normal circumstances, Alec would be on board, but not this time. Not with his freedom, his individuality, his very way of life, at stake. He straightens in his seat to offer protest- some bullshit about being more suited to behind the scenes work, but Gamora is quick to put both he and Peter in their places. (He even tries to appeal to her after the fact, feeding her a line about how she knows how Peter works much better than he does, and she's much more suited for this job, but she's not having it.)
He arrives in the common area of the ship similarly dressed and similarly anxious. The latter, he keeps behind his usual carefully constructed air of flippancy and ego. He already hides so much, what's one more layer? ]
Ride's waiting, Star-Guy. Let's get going.