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WHO: Yondu Udonta | OTA
WHAT: Yondu has a search for some company derailed by a mirage
WHEN: A week and a half after the explosion
WHERE: A dingier part of the city
WARNINGS & NOTES: References to sex work and references to dying

Yondu's heart isn't what you'd call open. Now, without the presence of his crew and without the ability to use his arrow as intimidation he's had to moderate his behavior. But he's still got his walls up, he's still mostly getting along with people based on practicality, and he's still not willing to search for an actual companion even this far into his dumbass life.

This is the worst of the reasons as to why he's taking some of his wages and looking for a companion for the night.

Worker droids are the best back home. They can erase memories, have lots of tricks programmed in, and they're not gonna judge a body that's covered in scars and wear. Problem is he don't know if any of these damned places have something of that sort. Instead, he's wandering the dingiest, shameful part of this utopia looking at the selection of girls offered on lit signs that aren't always scrolling or flickering they should.

It's in the middle of his trolling that, instead of a prospective business to patronize, he sees a familiar broad shouldered towheaded Terran walking down the sidewalk, drifting in between busy foot traffic composed mostly of perverts, drunkards, and cheapskates. A sea of inconvenient failures he just nearly lost track of Peter in.

"...Hey! Hey Quill!" He shouts. The kid doesn't hear him.

It still feels like a heartbeat since he 'died'. He had his last admission, an acceptance of his fate and penance for a life full of bullshit, the cold and silence sinking in as he realized he'd be dying the same as so many more of his crew. The better of 'em, anyway. He said what he said, but he would have liked to have known if the boy'd felt the same way. Peter didn't argue the point at the time, at least. He'd just looked at Yondu up until the point that Yondu couldn't see him no more.

The Ravager is moving before he even knows he's moving. He's shoving by people, nearly knocks a woman over. "Quill!" he shouts again. "Hold up! It's me."

But he doesn't stop. And when Yondu grabs his arm and spins the guy around, it's a fella with a big mustache and a modded third eye in his forehead. Looking very, very offended.

The old captain jerks his hand back, looking just as offended even if he has no right to be. As if this guy turning out to have nothing like the face he thought he saw was some great hostile act against him personally. He yanks back completely and starts storming off, kicking a clanky can from the path as noisily as possible. Because pissy displays of angry noise with an accompanying growling shout are the best way to show off one's patient personality and not make people veer around you as if you're a madman.

Maybe they're not far off, he figures, if he's seeing nonsense.

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Yondu rubs his hand over one side of his fin as they walk.

"This is a prototype. The one I had before got busted when I got shot in the damn head. Might be a side effect of that. Never had it happen before, but there's always a first time for everthin' an' this has been in there for a while."

He lets his hand drop again, flexing his fingers irritably.

"What sort of malfunction are you worried about?" David asks as he leads them around the corner and past a group of leather clad toughs. He's really not in the mood to break someone for looking at him funny tonight. Especially because he knows it would turn into a pissing contest.

Thankfully a surly blue man with sharp teeth at his side helps him avoid having to prove that normal looking and in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt doesn't mean pushover.

"And have you experienced traumatic head injuries before?"

"A few times. More'n once, anyway."

Indeed it doesn't, because Yondu's mood is reflected on his face, and other than the biggest of guys (or the drunkest) people are starting to give them a wide berth. Just what Yondu wants.

"This thing roots down into my vision, my hearing, and a few other bits of brain meant for motorfunctions. I use sound vibrations to control my arrow an' it follows a plan that I visualize. Don't know how similar it is to Terrans, an' I ain't had a problem like this before, but I had this thing in my head in some shape or another since my skull stopped growin' an' I was old enough for 'em to stick it in there. So I cain't be sure that the wear and tear ain't got to it. I don't reckon I was meant to live this long, nohow."

Bitter and angry, every single word. Technically, he didn't live this long, he doesn't guess.

"I also froze to death before comin' here. So that mighta had somethin' to do with it."

Fuck. David prays to whatever gods may be out there, that this doesn't need to head into brain surgery areas. Ever. Who knows how Yondu's brain structure differs from Terran. And now Yondu's got David thinking of them that way too. Fun.

But really, it's the 'froze to death' that gets David to stumble and come to a stop.

"You what?"

"Froze to death. Out in space. Luckily didn't have time to suffocate or nothin'. Just froze an' passed out an' that was the end of it. Turned up here alive an' well."

He notes David stopped, and he stops too, and shrugs out his arms uselessly.

"Well I'm back on my feet I reckon." Like dying isn't that big of a deal.

Yeah, David’s died before. He knows it’s a big deal.

“The cold could have damaged components. Or your brain. Geez, tell me this stuff before. And suffocation could still have figured in.”

He looks almost annoyed. It he can make do. What other choice has he?

"Nothin' else stuck, though. Which makes it real confusing. I can still see. Not a hint of numbness in me. My coat had frost in it, though. Shook it off an' it was fine."

At least the bizarreness of the situation has calmed Yondu down.

"Until now I ain't seen no side effects other than my arrow weren't flyin' right. But that was more like it couldn't get powered up like it oughta. I know I mentioned it before, but- Hold on..."

He pulls it out, since it can barely leave its holster on its own anymore. Holds it mid-air. Whistles, and it hovers, and it pings right off a cement wall near them.

"Normally my arrow can bore right through that thing," he goes to pick it up. "I can take down fighter ships with it. Now it's about got the inertia of a toy."

Interesting. David has to wonder how it ever got the force for what Yondu is claiming. But it doesn’t matter. It is all basically something he has to figure out. Too many problems he’s trying to deal with, but David can handle burning himself out some. Not like he has anything else to hold his time.

“I wish I knew more about the tech this runs on. But I suppose we’ll start with the fun.”

At least, in this case, Yondu can provide some self-knowledge and maintenance, rather than having someone completely technologically inept near him. He needs the second pair of eyes, though, because seeing the top of one's head is a feat he has yet to master.

"Y'ain't the only one. Part of me don't think this shit can pull us out of time. Part of me reckons that maybe it just copied us. Except that I cam back with my clothes frostbit an' my body right."

Even his bruising was gone. As if he hadn't been in a fight with a whole planet.

"My money has been on a computer simulation," David admits as they turn the final corner, finally catching sight of the mod place. There was the best place for them to work at least.

"Which is horrifying in its own way. And raises questions of free will."

"If that's the case, where would you even reckon the simulation began? Before we ended up here? Our whole lives a test run?"

His head hurts. He doesn't want to think about that. But maybe it would make clearly seeing Peter Quill make some damn sense.

"Now that I wouldn't be able to pinpoint," David admits. Too many people, from too many places and times. Who is to say who is even real here. If any of them are. It's an existential crisis he'd rather not focus on.

"For now, I'm acting as if it's real. I don't want to make the mistake of not and get hurt because of it."

"Yeah, I think that might be the better plan." He says it distantly, though, like he's still considering it.

"Right, well. What's the name o' this place?" He falls into step again, rubbing the scruff on his chin as he thinks.

"Better U," David says, cringing at the name. Someone is maintaining a business and the business name is killing him. Branding matters, and this is the worst part of it.

All he can do is look around, until he finds a mostly falling apart sign with the words he said, dingy on it. Dammit. This place doesn't look hygienic.

They reach the place and Yondu doesn't seem even slightly discouraged. He pushes his way right through the door, looking for someone to talk to, and already having a look around at the superficial contents.

A good sign already, he can see some clear model heads showing some cybernetic prosthetics. He wanders over to one, having a look at it. An augmented eye rooted in a head, black with a silvery iris, thick threads of artificial nerves trailing back into a fake clear jelly brain.

You'd think it'd dissuade people. As would the discounts on some of them. But there's a lady with a beehive hairdo in there casually flipping through a magazine and waiting their turn to talk to the help.

Well, now David is definitely curious about what is going on. He spends a bit time considering the display before sighing and turning his attention to Yondu. "I'd probably steer clear of ocular upgrades for right now. We don't need to wire new things in for you."

Get the current thing working first, thanks."

"No, no. I ain't interested in havin' that. It looks a little like Krylorian work. We had a guy with an eye implant on the crew. We could switch around how the wirin' functioned an' hook him into a security camera feed. Give 'im a handheld switch an' he could flick between views."

Made a damn good look-out during a bank heist.

Yondu straightens up, smoothing out his lapel after that brief, strange reminiscing.

"I think I see how most of these work. Tech's understandable, so I'm bettin' that whatever they got to work on people ought to be able to see in me just fine." And if something's wrong with him, he figures they should find it. "How much you know about Kree tech?"

Okay, that actually sounds sort of useful. And was part of why David had made his glasses. But he supposed it could be better to really know what was going on as if he was seeing it i n person.

"A good bit. Not as much as I know about Skrull, but I recently got a pretty good crash course in it. We'll see if I can trigger internal diagnostics systems first, before picking too much at wiring. If that's okay with you."

Never heard of Krylorian, but there are so many races out there.

"Yeah, sounds about the right way." And with that, Yondu goes to the front counter, finding a buzzer he can ring insistently, and then find his card with his credits on it. He's always hated trackable cash- barter is the best when that comes into play. But he'll take what he can manage for the moment.

"Shouldn't be too hard. It's just a little hard for me to see what's on top of my own head." He actually chuckles a little, finally, reminded of how fucking ludicrous it is that his primary defense mechanism is impossible to fix on his own. Probably the best for the Kree, though, when they were rigging him up. Right now it's just a pain in the ass.

Listen, barter is a bad way to handle an economy, because things vary too much. But to each their own, especially since Yondu is a Ravager. The guy is meant to be not noticed. That wasn't true of David. He wanted to go under the radar, but not that much.

"Which is why we've got another set of eyes for you. But have you ever considered getting guns or something? If your weapons can't be maintained by yourself, it's a bad thing, right?"

The Kree are conniving and David doesn't really like that. But the one he knows is good enough.

"Plannin' on it. I can use guns just fine." He can grab a kitchen knife and do a lot of damage. The arrow isn't the only thing he can fight with. The arrow is just the best one, and an extension of himself at this point.

"Knives, too, an' they don't require no upkeep. I can use most vehicles pretty damn good once I got a feel for 'em. Just commentin' on how funny it is, that's all."

Strangely enough, repairing vehicles wasn't something David had been that great at before. Except for planes. And what he had learne dhe's mostly lost since coming here.

"I'll keep you in mind if I need something repaired then."

"Yeah, no problem. I'm gonna owe you one after this." Because even if the kid is forthcoming with his help, he doesn't think anyone should do everything entirely freely.

"I could show you how to use a lotta stuff, too. Even if this place seems to be slim on the fighter ships."

Because that's what you teach a teenager, right?

Fighter ships? David will happily pass on that. There isn't a point to it, and he's learned how to fly a Kree ship already. But perhaps there is cultural things that David can pick up on.

"That sounds fair, you know, once I get you fixed up. Payment without success seems a bit iffy."

"I ain't expectin' you to be successful. It'd be nice if this got fixed. But if this is somethin' bad enough to make me see stuff? We're just takin' this first look, figure it out from there. HEY! We're out here ya slow-ass bastard!"

Yondu calls into the back, bitchy as ever, and leans on the counter and dips his head miserably.

This hadn't been his plans for the night. Ridiculously, he actually looks at the woman with the beehive hairdo and wonders if he can sweet-talk her later. But she does look like the sort that'd be waitin' for a call back which he wouldn't be dialin'. He's a prick. But he ain't that big a prick.