bakerstreet | The 'It Started With A Kiss' Meme

The 'It Started With A Kiss' Meme

IT STARTED WITH A KISS

How to play
① Tag in with your name/series.
② Go to RNG and roll 1-10. That's your scenario!
③ Tag around!
④ Have fun. :)

Scenarios

① ACCIDENTAL. Did someone shove you on the subway? Were you standing too close and did one of you trip? Oops, this is awkward!
② PASSIONATE. You love this person so much that it's impossible to hold yourself in check any more!
③ GENTLE. They knew it was coming, you knew it was too late to back out. Trouble is, you're having a lot of FEELINGS.
④ GIGGLY. How are you supposed to kiss them when neither of you can stop laughing?
⑤ SMOOTH. You couldn't have been smoother with that smooch if you were whisked with fruit, dashed with milk and served over the counter.
⑥ DANGEROUS. This really isn't the time to be getting romantic! If it goes wrong, you can always blame the adrenaline, right? Right.
⑦ SAD. Remember: a wet kiss is a memorable kiss, even if it isn't a good one.
⑧ TEASING. The tables have turned: this time, they will be the one left wanting more.
⑨ PAINFUL. Clinked teeth? Banged foreheads? Well done, Romeo, now you both share the same sore distraction.
⑩ LINGERING. You just ... can't ... stop. Uh oh.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(( hey there! are you alright with cross-canon, and do you have any prefs? ))

((Of course! Was there something you wanted to try in particular?))

(( I'm okay with anything! So excited to see a Nyreennnnn. RNG gave me 6, but I can reroll if you'd like. ))

((Aw yay :D 6 would be great! Did you want to start it?))

[ Given his luck, Peter should've been prepared for the worst. He should've expected that his simple job of "dock at the station, pick up the goods, and reward yourself by getting plastered" would get him involved in some weird mercenary feud he didn't know the first thing about.

He should've expected the single pinprick of the red laser that signaled the death of his employer. He should've expected that he'd get pinned down behind some suspiciously bulletproof crates. He should've expected that his comms would get jammed, preventing him from calling his team and asking them to get him the fuck out of there.

He should've expected everything to go to hell, but (surprise, surprise!) he didn't. So it's a damn good thing that Star-Lord is in his element when shit hits the fan.

And, hey, on the bright side, he's not alone in this whole mess.

At the moment, he's crouched behind one of those weirdly placed, waist-high walls, waiting for his blasters to recharge. ]

So-- [ And he's shouting over the din of gunfire, though his voice is slightly muffled by his helmet. ] -- What do you say you 'n' me get a drink after this whole mess?

[Black market trades. Only one of several types of transactions on Omega that had a high risk of going wrong. Nothing was ever simple or cut-and-dried; greed and lust for power corrupted the hearts of many on this station. Betrayals were always imminent. Something in Nyreen's gut told her that the small throng she was accompanying were about to go off-contract. It had her keeping as much of a distance as she could get away with -- and the flicker of red had not evaded her eye, either.

She'd been too late, of course, to save him. It happened so fast it was practically simultaneous: the man's head split like ripe fruit, and she was putting a bullet to the temple of the armoured Blood Pack who stood smug and grinning behind the scope.

Of course, it takes a little more elbow grease than that to put down one of their ilk... and with a blooded, enraged krogan charging in her direction, Nyreen had been forced to dive for cover. It's put her squarely beside one of the mercs from the other side of things, and as he addresses her just after she's sent a blast of crackling bright energy in the bogey's direction, Nyreen almost wonders if she's misheard something.

A solid stare's aimed in the human's direction, cat-green eyes narrowed ever so slightly.]

What did you just ask me?

[Her flanged tone's a shade of incredulous, not so much at the offer itself, but more... at the time and place where it's been extended. Certainly, sharing in drink and company after a hard-won battle was commonplace back in the military, but there's something about this guy's delivery that just seems odd.]

[ He's undeterred by her incredulity -- in fact, it only serves to spur him on. Peter imagines he's a good judge of character; and despite the fact that she had originally been working with the other mercs in this fucked up deal, he takes it as a good sign that the turian was on this side of cover and very clearly not shooting at him. At the moment, anyway.

So she isn't working with them, he decides, and after his employer had been killed, she'd been the one to fire the first shot at her own team. Weird, but interesting, and Peter had definitely taken notice.

He grins behind his mask, and though it's not visible, it's audible in his voice when he speaks again. ]

You. Me. Drinks?

[ The familiar hum of his blasters coming back online is enough to remind him of their current predicament, and he leaves the safety of cover long enough to fire a few shots at the recovering krogan. A nearby vorcha barreling down on their location forces Peter to redirect his aim, though, and it falls, writhing and screeching as it dies.

Peter ducks back down, and were it not for the tenseness in his arms as he holds his blasters aloft and at the ready, everything about his posture would scream nonchalance. He turns toward her and gives her a nod. ]

Quill, by the way. Peter Quill, but you might know me as Star-Lord. [ She probably doesn't -- in fact, very few people do, but it's nice to keep the hope alive. ]

[So... yes. He certainly did mean what he said; she hadn't misheard. Nyreen briefly peers over the edge of their cover, squinting into the distance where she sees the vorcha fall. At least he fights well. A couple more bullets are fired for good measure.]

I've never seen nor heard of you before in my life.

[Her mandibles twitch in amusement, and there's a resounding hiss as the heat-sink's popped from her pistol and subsequently reloaded. The underlying sharp disbelief is gone from her tones now, replaced with something more good-natured.]

It'd probably be in our best interests to split before back-up arrives. If you don't get yourself killed, you can buy me a drink after we've found an opening.

[That damn krogan isn't giving up... not that she'd expected any less. A surge of fire bursts from her omni-tool in his direction, with the hope of incinerating his armour. Then she flickers another sidelong glance in the direction of this "Star-Lord" ... or, more accurately, at his weaponry.]

[ Typical. One of these days, Star-Lord will become synonymous with Most Amazing Badass Dude in the Galaxy, but today is clearly not that day. He takes it in stride, though, and hey, she agreed to his invitation, so in all it's a net positive. ]

You've got yourself a deal then.

[ When she sends a blast of fire at the krogan, he follows up with a few well-aimed laser blasts of his own -- but they seemed to do little more than anger him, and Peter's starting to think splitting up may be a good idea.

He doesn't hesitate when he moves; Peter leans forward toward Nyreen and touches his forehead to hers. The intention there is unmistakable when he says cheekily, ] That was for good luck. Don't get yourself shot up just to avoid me, capiche?

[ And then he's darting away, finding new cover. ]

[Another unexpected turn. He's moving close--almost too close for comfort--and before Nyreen can say or do anything else there's a helmet pressed against her forehead. A very deliberate action. Colour her surprised.

So surprised, in fact, that her eyes remain hard on him and her voice silenced until Star-Lord has moved away again.

There's nothing in her expression to betray her internal reaction, but Nyreen knows she'll have to keep a watchful eye on this one. With a shrug of her shoulders, she's turning her gaze back to size up the distance between herself, the krogan, and her haven of choice a little further on the horizon: Afterlife, naturally.

Don't flatter yourself.

Better thought than spoken, especially since this Star-Lord guy's quickly out of earshot, and compromising herself is not worth the effort of calling back a retort. Peeling herself around behind a pillar of metal, Nyreen aims another well-placed blast of biotic energy in the krogan's direction before dashing around the bend to another corner. The intent there, far more practical than an appropriated gesture of affection from a stranger, is to draw the merc's fire. His attention. And it works.]

[ Peter is still grinning as he moves, tucking himself behind a nearby support column. He could almost forgive these merc assholes for the whole mess with all the fun he's having.

Almost, but he won't. Which is why he shows no mercy when another vorcha leaps at him, hoping to take him by surprise. Once the vorcha is out of the picture, Peter stands at the ready -- and he's about to attract the krogan's attention when the turian beats him to it.

Ballsy, he thinks approvingly. I like her.

Peter waits until the distracted krogan is fully charging at her before he leaves cover, unloading on the enraged creature with both of his blasters. ]

[With his attention focused on rushing toward Nyreen, the krogan's effectively taken by surprise when blasted from behind. It's enough to finally take the bastard down, and Nyreen could swear she could feel the ground shake when he collapses in the street. No matter. He's expired--or at least incapacitated--and she's not going to stick around long enough to tell the difference. Either way, while the fight's gone on mostly unnoticed by any other bystander (who, wisely, chose to get the fuck out of dodge when the bullets started flying) -- there will probably be more of them soon. If nothing more than to collect the body.

She can still see Peter from where she is, silhouetted against the dim glow of the station. A nod of approval is all she'll give him before darting off in the direction of Afterlife. It's not the bar closest to their location, but it's the one she always seeks out in the end, for reasons of her own.

If Star-Lord's smart enough, he'll be able to figure out the direction she's headed, and follow.]

[ Luckily for him, Star-Lord isn't 100% an idiot.

So he takes a moment to celebrate their short victory, shooting another bolt of electricity from his blaster at the krogan's still form. The krogan has already passed on, of course, but the extra shot is therapeutic for Peter, if nothing else.

He's quick to follow her to Afterlife, though he's not entirely sure why she's chosen to head in this direction. They passed by several good holdout spots -- at least by his reckoning -- but it's his first time at this station. She must know something he doesn't.

When he catches up, he hits the switch behind his ear to retract his mask, and it flickers away, leaving a blue light in its wake before that, too, disappears.

Well! That was bracing. Good work.

[Nyreen pauses outside the establishment, waiting for the human to catch up with her before giving the bouncer at the door a silent nod. They're able to pass by without any further questioning, though she hesitates a few steps into the entrance hall when the mask is retracted. It's enabled her to get a view of Peter's face, an opportunity which she'll gladly take advantage, giving him a long pointed look over one shoulder.]

You must not visit Omega often.

[There's no real disdain or scorn in her voice. It's just the way things are here, fraught with conflict between civilians, mercenaries and the vigilantes who seek to right them.

Either way, she waves her hand for him to follow, and leads him inside... but not toward the large bar counter surrounded by scantily-clad dancers. Toward a set of stairs, in fact, where more pounding bass indicates that the club is not merely restricted to what Peter's eyes have inevitably taken in.]

That obvious, huh?

[ He casts an appreciative eye to the dancers as they pass, but they're moving on, so he doesn't bother to do much more than that. It's crowded in here, which makes a lot of sense to him given the state of the station -- people drinking and dancing their cares away. Peter frequently did the same when he was younger, and he knows that road is temporary balm at best.

Peter raises an eyebrow in surprise when she takes them to the stairs -- he didn't realize the club was this large, and he hesitates at the threshold. On the one hand, she could easily be leading him into an ambush; he barely knows her, and their first meeting involved a pretty flashy betrayal. On the other hand, though, she had the chance to attack him while they were ducked for cover, could've easily taken him unawares as they fought that krogan.

She wouldn't need an ambush, he decides, and so once again, he follows her. ]

Not that I don't appreciate the atmosphere-- [ And he has to raise his voice to be heard over the din. ] --but would you mind letting me know where we're headed?

Afterlife, and we're moving to the lower level. I prefer it there.

[It's spoken like some sort of household name -- in case Peter hadn't seen the glowing letters at the entrance, of course. The corridor is short, and the section of the club that opens up to them isn't too different than what lies above. More poles with dancers to occupy them. A larger floor. But, most importantly, it lacks a certain pair of eyes from a higher place that Nyreen isn't in the mood to feel upon her ... to say nothing of the inevitable line of questioning that would follow.

There are other sets of eyes on them, though--or rather, on Peter in particular--but Nyreen can feel the weight of them just as intensely. More than a few glared daggers are silenced with her own hard stare, and once they've reached the bar counter Nyreen turns to her new companion again.]

I'd advise you to let me do the ordering, here. Trust me. You can still pay for it.

[Perhaps a bit of an unintentionally-ironic statement, considering their circumstances, and said atmosphere. But she's already leaning forward to speak to the bartender.]

[ Despite all evidence to the contrary, Peter is observant when he wants to be. He can feel that he's being watched, can tell that he's unwelcome, but he ignores it like a champ. His is a contrary personality type; the more he's not wanted, the more he's likely to stay. Nyreen's responding glares don't go unnoticed, either, and he feels a little gratified to have someone on his side.

And then she's taking charge, and he feels a little less gratified. ]

Wait, hang on--

[ but she's already turned away to place their orders, and he huffs in frustration -- not just because he's being ignored, but because, god damn it, he's finding her no-nonsense, detached attitude weirdly attractive? Seriously, what the hell?

He turns to get his bearings, and despite the dim, pinkish lighting, he marks out the area: dance floor over there, tables over there, more exotic dancers; he notes the private rooms and notes the possible exits, commits them to memory before turning back to the bar.

When he puts down the credits for their drinks, he leans on the bartop on his elbow and eyes the beverage suspiciously. He waits until the bartender has passed out of earshot before speaking. ]

That dude's not tryin' to poison me, right?

[Nyreen takes up a full glass of something bright and neon in each hand. The batarian behind the counter scowls when the money's laid out, all four of his beady black eyes narrowing in a glare, but credits are credits. He can either take the human's money, or he can revel in the concept of giving out two free drinks.

In the end, he'll take it, and not even look at them again.

Nyreen outstretches a hand in Peter's direction, offering up his share. The question earns an amused flicker of her mandibles, a turian sort of smile. Perhaps he's a fast learner after all.]

Now he isn't.

[Before even leaving a window of opportunity for further questioning, she gestures toward one of the lounge tables. One that's free of any dancers, and with seats that look a lot more comfortable than the stools where they're standing.]

If you don't mind, I'd prefer to sit out of the way.

[ He takes up his own drink before sweeping an arm to the seats, bowing slightly from the waist. ]

By all means. Ladies first.

[She slides into one of the cushioned leather seats, eyes entirely on the human now, on the lights pulsing in purple and blue over his cheekbones.]

It occurs to me, Star-Lord-- [and she says the name, call-sign, whatever it might be, in a tone that could almost be whimsical ... by her standards, anyway--] that I never told you my own name. It's Nyreen.

[ He grins -- he loves it when people use his title, self-appointed as it may be -- and slides in as well. ]

Hey, saved me the trouble of asking. [ He lifts his glass to her, as if in toast. ] Good to meet you, Nyreen. Sucks about the job, though.

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The 'It Started With A Kiss' Meme

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hope this is alright! can revise if you'd like

'tis fine! :D

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