3317/Alpha Flight Foodery

Alpha Flight Foodery
Date of Scene:	06 December 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Hyperion, Gamora

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Hyperion has posed:
Given the general lack of space-ward mobility for most of Earth's populace, the Alpha Flight station is surprisingly busy most of the time. Not on the order of a floating Celestial head like Knowhere, or any of the other true galactic transit and trading hubs, but it's busy save for during a few hours in shallow depths of the morning when the crews have union mandated sleep schedules and docking is handled by a skeleton crew.

Nevertheless, a member of Alpha Flight, Hyperion flies up to one of the exterior hatches, and not too long after, walks into the station, shaking off the dusting of ice that had built on his body during his brief foray across the void.

Sniffing as he walks, he makes his way toward the mess hall. A large room, like most of the rooms on the huge station, it could easily accommodate several hundred people, with rows of standard cafeteria benches, but also quite a few cozier booths and tables for more intimate private conversations between colleagues.

The room is serviced by a plain dispenser that produces warm food in ration format, and also by an active kitchen, manned by a tireless robot or something like that. Because that's cool.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora was up all night working on things inside of the Milano. She hadn't slept a wink and wasn't really interested in it. Everyone onboard the ship was at each other's throats because they all had cabin fever... she included... Quill was down on Earth reuiniting with his homeworld... while they all sat up here wondering if this was their new lives? Fighting over who was the new Captain now.

She decided to take a walk, Rocket and Groot were blaring loud Earth Music that Quill had brought up to the ship and she just wanted to get away from it.

She'd meandered her way to finally finding a quiet Mess hall. She'd used the robot services to order a tray of food selections... all Earth food... it was tasteless to her... bland.

Gamora watched the robots move around as she sat in a corner by herself, metal fork in one hand and a metal cup of alcoholic beverage she'd brought with her from the ship in the other.

Hyperion has posed:
Wearing civilian clothes, Marcus "Hyperion" looks just like a normal guy. With his khakis and his clean dark blue shirt, he looks a bit like a random guy, but of course, most of the people on the station in an official capacity wear uniforms, and then the people from space itself tend to have a sort of look to them. Usually it was their gear that set them apart, the extra space suit at the waist, the blaster that was a bit too advanced for most earther tech, the strange composite body armor that was clearly not terrestrial in origin.

Hyperion just looks like a nice guy from Canada.

Getting food from the robot, he gets himself a nice tray going, and looks over the big, overly big really, mess, and seeing only the one soul, he makes his way over to Gamora.

"May I sit with you?" he asks, and then looks over the huge cafeteria behind him. Clearly aware that he could sit anywhere, but perhaps he is just looking for someone to chat with while he eats.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora wasn't sure what to make of having so many humans around here. She liked Peter, but at times she also loathed his smug pride toward his homeworld and how he held it as if it was soooooo superior to everywhere else in the galaxy.

So being around others from Quill's race? It was a little unsettling and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not... Each one had their own unique flavor, she'd determined, but they all kind of went back down the road of Peter Quillisms here and there.

'No.' was the first word that his Gmora's mind when she heard his question, she'd had a rough evening with her crew... But she relented.

"If you would like." She said in response to him, lifting her cup up for a sip from the sweet alcohol inside it.

Hyperion has posed:
The moment of Gamora's hesitation is practically enough for Hyperion to decide not to risk some sort of fierce rebuttal. He has been getting enough static from people for being too friendly lately, so he has been trying to learn to be a bit less forward, and a bit more receptive to cues. But when she relents, he smiles and turns sideways. Taking the offered seat, the huge man makes even the reinforced bench seat opposite of Gamora groan.

His hands on either side of his tray, he visually examines his meal as if he were trying to choose which thing to start with. Picking up a spring roll, he starts eating that.

"I'm Hyperion, part of Alpha Flight," he introduces himself. "Or um.. Marcus, I guess," he says, realizing that he isn't wearing a costume, and might seem a bit weird introducing himself with his hero alter-ego. He isn't used to having a hero alter-ego yet. "Are you here with a crew, or by yourself?" he asks conversationally.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora didn't seem terribly angry or anything, she was just... reserved. When he joined her though she looked at him while he spoke, and her cup was set back down beside her food tray which had an assortment of random earth foods on it.

"Hyperior Marcus." She said at him softly.

"I am Gamora." Her name given back as she picked up a grape out of the fruit dish. "I am here with my loudmouthed crew in our vessel down in the hangar section of the space station. The ones that make all the noise, the messes, who fight all night and sleep all day." She exhaled and popped the grape into her mouth between her purple hued lips.

Hyperion has posed:
"Hyperion," he repeats it again, so that she'll hear the 'n' at the end, and then decides that it's probably irrelevant. She'll likely be gone off back to whatever planet her people come from, or trading or whatever it is she does, soon enough, and his insistence that she knows the exact pronunciation of a name hardly anyone knows seems somehow sort of silly.

Hearing her name, he nods at bit and repeats it back to her, "Gamora, of the Loud, Messy, Fighting Ship," he repeats back to her, sort of following her method of styling after the name. In good spirits.

Lifting his glass of whatever it is he's drinking, something orange colored, Tang, because we're in space, he offers her a little toast, "To friends who keep us entertained."

He then takes a drink of the fruity orange drink, and settles back in his booth a little to another creak. "What brings you to Alpha Flight Station?" he asks.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora used a metal fork to move some other fruits around in their bowl and she shakes her head side to side at his words. "My mistake. I thought it was a rank of some kind." She told him then before looking back at him.

"The ship's name is the Milano. It is named after the owner's childhood crush, I guess. Some pretender here on Earth." She didn't fully understand Peter's explanation of who Alyssa Milano was, as she didn't really care either.

"We're here because the Captain has been away from this place since he was a small child. He has been... reconnecting his roots. As he explained it. But really I think he is just having sexual relations with as many women as he can before he dies of a raging flaming disease from it."

Gamora raised up a piece of banana on her fork and placed it inot her mouth now.

Hyperion has posed:
"I'm a protector, of sorts," Hyperion begins to explain his name, not sure what her reference is, so he tries to keep the explanation as plain as possible. "I go around, helping people in dangerous situations, protect those who can't protect themselves. I was given the name Hyperion by the government of my home, since my other name, Marcus, is too common, I guess?" he explains the whole purpose of a hero name, as best he understands it.

Honestly, he is so used to the likes of Wonder Woman, and Iron Man and all the other epic well known heroes using hero names, that he had never really thought of the why, beyond the fact that they were just to maintain private identities.

"Where are you from? Do you have no family you haven't seen in a long time? Are you unfamiliar with the sense of longing to reconnect with something? I myself was sent to this planet long ago, but I don't know where my home is," he explains.

Watching her eat, he looks back at his own food and finishes another spring roll.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora would stare at him as he explained his name's history and she'd take another sip of her drink from the metal cup. "It is a fine name. It has a... sense of maturity about it." She said to him then, glancing down at her tray of food thinking to herself something nasty about 'Star-Lord' as a name being something a child would choose for themself, but she kept that random thought to herself. They were all mad at Peter!

"I know where I am from. All to well, but I have absolutely no interest in returning there." She'd reply to his line of questioning. "My life there is done, it is time to only look forward. To move on and not let the past rule over me." She sat her cup down with a bit of annoyed force with her forearm slapping against the table's top.

Hyperion has posed:
"I will be sure to let the one who came up with it know that it has been well received," Marcus says kindly, watching her reactions, his eyes have a sort of intensity. Not quite staring at her, but through her, as if he were looking past her occasionally, focusing elsewhere in the moments between words. Yet never a moment of hesitation in his words. He is truly not like most humans in that sense.

"Then I envy you your knowing, I don't know if I'd like my parents, they sent me to Earth when I was still a baby, so I never met them, they could be monsters or heroes, or they could make pants and fine hats, I haven't a clue what they do. I imagine, if they're like me, they aren't ordinary, but I can't be certain," he explains his past, perhaps over-sharing, but he has that tendency when he is being open. He'll need to address it eventually.

Sitting with her, he watches her lower her drink and asks, "Have you tried combining a bit of this, with that?" he asks, lifting his drink, and then pointing it at her alcoholic one. Orange flavor added to alcohol is an Earther favorite.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora listened to the man explain a lot of personal information to her that she hadn't really expected... she doesn't really know what to think of it. "I assumed you were human." She said to him then. "My apologies." She'd add, but otherwise not really know what to tell him. "You're here now. Your parents made that happen. You seem to be safe and sound and alive and well. So for that, it is enough to be grateful for." That was her immediate advice on the matter though.

"I haven't tried such a combination, no." Gamora said then as she eyed his orange drink. "What is that flavor? Spice root?" She asked, leaning forward a little to peer into the cup a bit better. She held HER cup up. "Smoked twil leaf ale. From Rodox III. Its... my sleeping medication." She admitted that little personal tidbit about herself, because this was sharing hour, apparently.

Hyperion has posed:
"When our earliest space program made it into space, this is the stuff they sent with the people who made the trip. Of course, our people had been into space before that, but.. well, nevermind, it's called an orange flavor, but that's not strictly true. It tends to go well with a flavorless alcohol. The traditional blend is orange juice and vodka, but I believe tang works alright as well," he surmises, not being much of an alcohol drinker. "We call that a screwdriver."

Holding up a finger, he says, "One second," and then blurs away, faster than the eye can see. His passage kicking up a few napkins around the room as he runs from the room at mach four and returns a moment later, holding a bottle of Vodka, which he puts on the table between them along with two more glasses he snagged from the commissary. "Let's test."

Taking a seat opposite her again, he unscrews the bottle of vodka, and pours a bit into a glass, and sips it. Then adds a bit of the tang off his own glass. As he mixes drinks, testing them, he keeps talking, offering Gamora drinks as he experiments, for her to take or leave at her whim. "Problems sleeping?" he asks.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora just quietly listened and observed him as he explained things in that same sort of way that Quill always did. Though he didn't seem quite so arrogant about it, there wasn't that... smirk... tugging at his corners like it tugged at Peter's when he instructed her on Earth's rituals and culture.

"Tang?" Gamora asked moments before he blurred out of her sight and then blurred back into it with drinks. The green skinned woman just blinked her eyes and stared at him... that was, impressive. But she tried to keep her calm and just watched him.

"I... live on a small ship with a lot of large children. So yes. I have problems sleeping." She said back at him then.

Gamora would reach out for an offered rink though and she'd experimentally sip from it. A second later and she moved her tongue's tip across her lips and then nodded.

"It is agreeable." She said to him then. "A big too sweet, but it is serviceable."

Hyperion has posed:
Getting up, this time, Hyperion walks over to the robot manning the counter and requests several things, and comes back with fruit juice in boxes. Not ideal, but they are in space, and it's not like they are going to waste tax dollars on bringing up fresh fruit juice every day. Taking a seat opposite of her, he has to pause to think of something, then nods to himself and adds a bit of liquid from each box to both of their glasses and then stirs them.

While he stirs with one hand, he eats a third spring roll with the other.

"Too sweet, yeah, this one is a bit less sweet, but a bit more diverse in flavor. It's orange, peach, and cranberry juice, along with the alcohol, vodka. The cranberry juice is a bit more sour, so it's a more diverse palate," he explains. "This drink is called, 'sex on the beach,'" a pause, "I didn't name it."

He lets her try it while trying his own. He quite likes fruity drinks, alcohol being more or less a non-factor for him, he just likes fruit in general, and this is one of his favorites.

Gamora has posed:
Gamora continued to just sit where she had been since the man had entered the mess hall and she watched him as he mixed another drink and talked more. She picked at her bits of fruite, small grapes and bits of strawberries (those were her favorites).

"Why would anyone want to do that on a beach?" She asked then. "The sand alone would..." She sighed and shook her head. "Earth makes no sense."

Her right hand reached out though anyway and she accepted the cup and then sniffed at its contents before she'd take a sip from it and let it roll around over her tongue before she swallowed it and nodded her head. "It is good though. I like that better." She'd say then to him, following her words up with another drink indicating that... yeah, she did like it.

Hyperion has posed:
"Good, and how are you liking Earth food?" Hyperion asks, looking at her plate as he eats the last of his spring rolls. He'd come up to the Space Station just for the spring rolls, which were, in his opinion, somehow divine. It was like whoever had made the robot had spent all of their resources on making it the best spring roll maker in the world, as far as Hyperion is concerned.

Sipping his drink, he waits for her to put her glass down and empties out the rest of all of the boxes and a good bit of vodka into their respective cups so that they both have enough to drink. Enough that were they human, they would likely be getting wasted far before they finished their drinks.

"Sand, everywhere, yeah. I think it's more that beaches are nice, and sex is nice, so someone decided that the two together must be nice. Not really true though, no," he agrees. "Not that I know from experience, but it sounds like a good opportunity for chafing," he says, laughing a little.

Gamora has posed:
All of his words would garner a smile from the woman. She was harsh and cold sometimes / all the time... but she had a heart and was capable of emotional responses beyond just anger.

"I am sure you have no personal experience with that act on beaches." She replies to him then, a faint bit of a tease back at the Earthling. At his previous question about the food from here though she glanced down at her tray.

"My true opinion would likely offend you. So my fake opinion will be to reply with 'It is okay.'"

A little smirk was shown to him then and she shook her head. "Where I come from, the food has... a lot more flavor. It hits your taste sensory with... a tidal wave of reaction. Or at least the very good food does. This is more like... military sludge, from the front lines of a lifelong war." That wasn't harsh at all.

She smirked again. "I am sure it is just me though. So do not take what I say to heart."

Hyperion has posed:
"I do take offense, because /this/ is cafeteria food made by a robot, come with me, and you'll see, a world of deeper flavors. Can you exist in the void of space, or do you need a suit? I will take you to a place with a tidal wave of flavors," he declares and rises to his feet. His drink in hand, he proceeds to drink the majority of it in a few gulps and puts it back on the table.

So challenged, he looks at her, as if challenging her to accept. She claims she is too sophisticated for their food, so he will assault her with the most flavorful foods he has found. Whether he likes those foods or not, he means to make her eat .. those words.