There was something in the way Flynn had looked at him before his departure and said just one word, enjoy, that had evoked an almost primal terror, the prey being sent off to the predator, and his hands are shaking. They're healed, actually healed this time and that's nice but there's something instinctual that tells Ezekiel he'd rather stay behind and have them broken a thousand times over.
His body feels weird, tingling with magic of whatever spell had Flynn put on him. A parting gift, he had called it. Ezekiel doesn't know what it is but it feels weird, powerful, and he doesn't like it. He hopes whatever it is will somehow not work on him once again. But again, there's this little voice that tells him that somehow, he's not going to be so lucky this time.
As the ship carries him through space he's trying to focus on the anger instead, the fury and indignation of being traded away like a thing to Quill but it's not quite enough to calm the racing thoughts. What's going to happen to him? Why does Quill want with him? Did he figure out Ezekiel destroyed his flowers after all?
He closes his eyes, trying to breathe deeply and to collect himself until the door opens with a hydraulic hiss. He puffs his breath like a runner getting ready for the competition and puts on an unconcerned smile before stepping outside.
And stops because whatever he had expected – well, this isn't it. "Whoa."
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There was something in the way Flynn had looked at him before his departure and said just one word, enjoy, that had evoked an almost primal terror, the prey being sent off to the predator, and his hands are shaking. They're healed, actually healed this time and that's nice but there's something instinctual that tells Ezekiel he'd rather stay behind and have them broken a thousand times over.
His body feels weird, tingling with magic of whatever spell had Flynn put on him. A parting gift, he had called it. Ezekiel doesn't know what it is but it feels weird, powerful, and he doesn't like it. He hopes whatever it is will somehow not work on him once again. But again, there's this little voice that tells him that somehow, he's not going to be so lucky this time.
As the ship carries him through space he's trying to focus on the anger instead, the fury and indignation of being traded away like a thing to Quill but it's not quite enough to calm the racing thoughts. What's going to happen to him? Why does Quill want with him? Did he figure out Ezekiel destroyed his flowers after all?
He closes his eyes, trying to breathe deeply and to collect himself until the door opens with a hydraulic hiss. He puffs his breath like a runner getting ready for the competition and puts on an unconcerned smile before stepping outside.
And stops because whatever he had expected – well, this isn't it. "Whoa."