It's a Slow Fire of Sorts: Part I

We're friends, aren't we?

"Here."

Vers hands Brunnhilde a piece of paper before she goes. It's small, torn, clearly stolen from Marks' place, and on it is a hastily written series of letters and numbers: a personal holo channel.

"We're friends," Vers explains. "Friends give each other their numbers."

"... Friends?" Brunnhilde asks, raising her eyes. Vers nods; a little too sharp and a little too hard.

"Yeah. Yeah- I think we're friends now, aren't we?" she says, steadying herself with splayed hands.

Before Brunnhilde can answer- because friendship is a big ask for 0200 hours, especially when three days ago, Brunnhilde thought of Blondie as her mortal enemy- Vers turns away.

She pulls her hair out of her ponytail, or the remains of her ponytail, anyway.

"I have to go though, 'cause Yon-Rogg is probably combusting. He's already contacted me three times because I'm apparently being irresponsible." She rolls her eyes and groans, running her fingers through her hair and getting stuck in the tangles. "His idea of a good mission is to get in and out and then leave, but that's so boring, and sometimes, I just want something else, ya'know?"

"Something else-"

"He thinks I'm too involved with Sakaar," Vers interrupts, "- but we're allies, and he's the one who sent me here in the first place, so if anything, it's his fault... I mean, why even tell me to go here if you don't think I should be here?"

She meets Brunnhilde's eyes, like she's asking for her opinion. Brunnhilde just stands there. "Uhhhh," she starts, searching for something helpful to say, but Vers graciously loses interest. She ties back her hair into something loosely resembling a bun. After another round of, "He's the one who ordered me here, so why is he being a freaking jerk about it?" she sighs, gazing out at the portals casting shadows onto the dirt.

The outline of her face amid the flickering lights is almost portrait-worthy.

"He just... they just- crap," she murmurs. "They all want me to stay home. I guess I'm really important to the war... the one who's supposed to 'end it all,' apparently, but Hala sucks sometimes."

She turns back to where Brunnhilde is gaping, jaw pretty much on the floor.

"It really sucks," Vers repeats, with purpose. "And it's really lonely. So, maybe call me, sometime? Like, when you're bored, or just want someone to talk to, because I can be fun to talk to... I think? Probably," she says, and then she rolls her eyes.

"Unless you're Minn-Erva, and then she'd say I'm not, but that's just because she hates me for merely existing."

Brunnhilde nods, unsure of how to respond to something as vulnerable as that.

She doesn't know whether to comfort Vers or punch her in the face to snap her out of it. She's thinking a punch is probably best, but then, Vers winks at her. Maybe, in any other circumstance, a wink like that would be suggestive, but she struggles through it- so much so that it's practically a blink- and the fact that it's a blink is so stupid that it's endearing.

It's ridiculous, it's hilarious, and that- paired with Vers' emotional rambling- has Brunnhilde even more conflicted.

Vers thinks we're friends. She wants to be friends... are we friends? Oh, my gods we're friends. I'm friends with a Kree Superhero that can't hold her alcohol, destroys mob- bosses with a smile, and shoots fire from her hands-