( peter's brow furrows and knits together in scepticism as rodney questions what his decidedly not vague, thank you very much, but okay maybe a little bit hand gesture meant. ) Cool it? ( he suggests, intonation edging towards questioning, but it's less a question to rodney and more a question of rodney. "how did you not get that?" it says. the response overlaps with rodney's own continued ramblings about how he'd totally definitely do the blood thing if only his hands weren't super special and important; and peter's not sure if rodney actually heard him, really, genuinely cares about the response or if he just likes to hear the sound of his own voice.
peter knows, oh, he knows he shouldn't judge, but the more rodney speaks, the more the despair that peter feels deepens. he's not going to make assumptions as to what rodney's like in a fight, but he feels with bone-deep certainty that if they get out of this room and encounter less-than-friendly faces, there's not a chance in hell that peter's going to let this guy talk and ruin everything for them.
the letter said about a handprint's worth of blood, but it didn't say it had to come from a hand, so peter starts rolling up his sleeves — both, because if this makes a mess, these are the only clothes peter has for the time being, and he's quite fond of them, you know? they've served him well and they're really comfortable.
he opens his mouth to either reply to rodney's deluge of words or to sigh, it's not quite clear. peter's attention is fixated on his sleeves as his mind wanders through his options: maybe he could just pretend to die and rodney could go on without him once they get the door open. he'd finally get some peace and flarking quiet in his life.
that'd be nice.
but as soon as rodney questions ship, peter's focus snaps back to him, fingers remaining folded around the sleeve of his shirt mid-roll. then rodney says daedalus and he scoffs, gaze immediately softening. dismissively, he says— )
Who'd name their ship after Icarus's son? (not a guy who named their ship after winona, evidently. )No, ( he adds, with barely a breath of a pause. ) My ship's the Ryder.
And if it helps, I was trying to take a trip to Knowhere. ( pronounced exactly as it sounds, which is to say: there's no indication that peter's not saying 'nowhere'. ) But apparently it's taken a vacation from floating around at the edge of the galaxy, ( he adds, lips pressing together momentarily. that whole situation was really weird, probably weirder than this and probably linked to the whole — thanos deal, which peter missed because groot decided it wasn't important enough.
—mmm, not thinking about that. nope. ) which is kinda annoying. ( beat. ) Do you have a knife?
no subject
peter knows, oh, he knows he shouldn't judge, but the more rodney speaks, the more the despair that peter feels deepens. he's not going to make assumptions as to what rodney's like in a fight, but he feels with bone-deep certainty that if they get out of this room and encounter less-than-friendly faces, there's not a chance in hell that peter's going to let this guy talk and ruin everything for them.
the letter said about a handprint's worth of blood, but it didn't say it had to come from a hand, so peter starts rolling up his sleeves — both, because if this makes a mess, these are the only clothes peter has for the time being, and he's quite fond of them, you know? they've served him well and they're really comfortable.
he opens his mouth to either reply to rodney's deluge of words or to sigh, it's not quite clear. peter's attention is fixated on his sleeves as his mind wanders through his options: maybe he could just pretend to die and rodney could go on without him once they get the door open. he'd finally get some peace and flarking quiet in his life.
that'd be nice.
but as soon as rodney questions ship, peter's focus snaps back to him, fingers remaining folded around the sleeve of his shirt mid-roll. then rodney says daedalus and he scoffs, gaze immediately softening. dismissively, he says— )
Who'd name their ship after Icarus's son? ( not a guy who named their ship after winona, evidently. ) No, ( he adds, with barely a breath of a pause. ) My ship's the Ryder.
And if it helps, I was trying to take a trip to Knowhere. ( pronounced exactly as it sounds, which is to say: there's no indication that peter's not saying 'nowhere'. ) But apparently it's taken a vacation from floating around at the edge of the galaxy, ( he adds, lips pressing together momentarily. that whole situation was really weird, probably weirder than this and probably linked to the whole — thanos deal, which peter missed because groot decided it wasn't important enough.
—mmm, not thinking about that. nope. ) which is kinda annoying. ( beat. ) Do you have a knife?