Of all the things Peter Quill found awkward about the moment in time and space he found himself in because of that damn little gem, it was the old black guy with a gaunt face and salt and pepper close cropped hair that he was left staring at. Deep down, Peter knew that he was probably just uneasy with the task at hand. He'd never been much of a recruiter, always more the loner with his headphones on. What made Cosmicdude pick him to play Superhero Round-Up? It was a question Peter had asked himself half a hundred times...and still had come no closer to answering.
Unless getting Gamora, Drax, and Rocket to not kill each other long enough to work together qualified as an achievement in leadership. On his best days, Peter thought it was. On most days, Peter just assumed the alcohol and galactic threat had done the work for him. So maybe he was just a little short when his right hand touched just behind his temple, and his "mask" quickly and efficiently folded upon itself until there was only his face to be seen.
A face still staring at the older black guy in the suit, looking like a bathroom valet. Of the four men present in the Men's Room (well--three men and a duck that seemed pretty male to him), only one of them DEFINITELY did not belong. Peter's face never looked angry. Muted irritation, maybe, but there was no overt anger there. Just a little passive aggressiveness in his otherwise flat tone. "...sup?...mind if we get a minute here?"
The men's room attendant's eyes had gone wide at seeing his mask do it's disappearing act, and found the eyes behind the mask staring at him. If it was awkward before, it got plain uncomfortable, Peter doing anything but hiding the fact that maybe the old timer should scoot on for a bit. By the time Peter actually said something, the attendant was sliding off his stool in the clumsy way an old man with too much wear and tear on his joints moved, and a moment later the three of them were alone.
"...those mints look good."
Hunger was a mother fucker. Between the smells of delicious food that wafted into the otherwise overly air freshened men's room of the restaurant and the fact that no money meant Peter hadn't eaten anything in nearing seven hours, the mints looked like a four course meal. In a heartbeat, Peter had a handful of delicious chocolate covered mints cupped in one hand, using his other to unwrap each mint's wrapper, and down it. He was three to four mints in by the time he remembered why he was actually there.
His eyes pausing as they returned to the guy standing in front of he and the Duck, looking just as confused (but far less patient) than the bathroom attendant had looked. "RIGHT. Hey, bro, I'm Star Lord and this is...the Duck." Peter had known the Duck's name just minutes ago, before his brain power was divided between unwrapping mints to shove into his mouth, and trying to explain what was going on while remaining understood despite the muffling of the odd word due to the mints he all but inhaled.
"I was tasked by this, like, big giant dude that looked like a galaxy and was named...Ernie, or Eternity, or Ernieternity...these are really good mints." Another mouthful, and Peter tossed the wrappers towards the ground, brushing off his slightly choclately hands on his trousers before returning to the mission at hand. "Anyway, Ernie gave me this thing," Peter held up his right wrist, using his left hand to yank down on the right sleeve of his coat just enough to flash the polished purple gem fitted tightly into a solid silver place-setting upon an otherwise plain looking leather wrist band.
The gem shined when the harsh flourescent light of the restroom hit it, but otherwise did nothing--until the man wielding the shield gazed at it. In that instant was held an infinity of galaxies alive with pale glow of moonlight, the fury of star fire, and celestial bodies of every size and color of the spectrum; all of it and more cascading through the man's mind and sight at such a kinetic speed that it might have felt like the Big Bang went off in his head and just as quicly reversed to nothingness within the fraction of a second.
At lest, that's how it had felt to Peter. As quickly as he'd revealed it, Peter slid his coat sleeve back of his wrist and dropped his hands back to his sides. "He gave it to me, and told me I had to find some heroes to...I dunno, help save the universe. I got a little distracted by the gem when he was talking to me, to be honest. But, dude," Peter's voice deepened, and his eyes went wide, to emphasis just how totally serious this shit was, "...it's for real. Like, a bad moon's rising, and he told me to find Captain America. The Captain America of this exact moment, not the blonde haired guy everyone knows and loves, but YOU, my man. Right? So what do you say...wanna help save the universe?"
After a pause, Quill only had one thought go through his mind as he waited for a response:
I can totally recruit.
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JFK,
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Boston Bridge
