Work Text:
Gamora flipped through a paper magazine, her fascination with the primitive technology having disappeared long ago. Peter had parked at an airport, using the ship’s shields so they could be in and out quickly. She was reduced to heavy clothing and makeup to hide her alien appearance from the denizens of this laughably backwards planet.
A human woman slid into the seat next to her. Her hair was the color of fire and her movements were smooth. Gamora could not tell if the woman was a warrior or a dancer at first glance, which troubled her.
“Good evening,” the human woman said.
Her expression gave nothing away. She was a warrior, Gamora decided.
“Hello, how are you?” Gamora responded, the words Peter had told her to use in response to all inquiries.
“Just wondering what you’re doing in this area of space,” the woman replied, casually, as if she dealt with aliens everyday.
Gamora reached for the stiletto knife inside her boot, only to find it missing.
“There doesn’t need to be any trouble,” the warrior woman told Gamora.
Gamora never should have let Peter convince her they needed to come to this rock. She sighed, and decided for honesty. If necessary, she could fight her way back to the ship.
“My friend is illegally downloading your world’s music. We will be leaving shortly,” she told the warrior woman.
The woman gave her back her stiletto, using the magazine to hide it from the ancient cameras that this planet used as an almost omnipresent security device.
“Enjoy your stay.” The warrior woman left with what was either a smile or a smirk.
Humans were more interesting than their magazines, Gamora decided.