nexus_crossings | https://tinyurl.com/ufdk43p

A trail of strange, unidentifiable red petals winds through the plaza this cold day in the Nexus. Not a heap of them, but enough small bits of brilliant red to pop out amid the snow and dreary ground to leave a distinct marking of something or someone passing through.

The trail leads anyone following it to Nike, currently brushing more of those petals out of her impossibly long golden tresses, her brow furrowed in concentration. It's more of an emotion than her countenance normally belies. She startles to see anyone approaching her and drops her hands from her hair quickly. Scrambles for a long piece of red and white cloth she's got folded into her pack.

"Apologies. I did have queries for the populace today." Her fingers grip and cinch the fabric between them, slowly working their ways down the length of the cloth. She fidgets with it while she addresses anyone who will listen.

"Why do people choose partners based on mere attraction? Out of dozens of qualifying attributes, why should something so unimportant have a disproportionate weight to the equation? The choice could be made based on compatibility of skills, or a mutually sought after goal or..." Nike trails off and with a sudden forceful flick of her wrist bunches up the fabric in her hands to flop against her thighs in clear frustration. The demon clearly does not understand and it's eating at her.

"Why do you do this?"

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"Eh, not as much as you might think." Rocket may not have freaks of his own kind to crush on, and he certainly isn't attracted to humans and so forth, but maybe there's a benefit to being a little more in touch with his ancestral instincts than most civilized folks. Much as he hates to admit it out loud. "Lotta times I think it's 'cuz healthy is sexy. Healthy mates means healthy kids. Mating instinct kinda thing. Ain't true all the time obviously, either way you look at it, but it's pretty damn common in a lotta species."

"Healthy....is.." Nike trails off while she wraps her head around that little factoid that is more than likely going to get repeated far more often than her Mistress probably would like to hear.

"Then...when they find themselves drawn to arrangements of physical features...it's because they are looking at genetics. Not consciously, but all the same." It sounds so simple and yet there is a sense to it. The way humans procreate is no different from most other animal of their world.

"I hadn't considered that. Having to rely on genetics to be born. Having to risk the future of a species on a partner's genetic makeup."

Rocket snaps his fingers and nods. "Yeah, biology. That's it exactly. Even if they ain't thinking about having kids, or maybe they don't even want 'em, the brain don't always get to tell the body what to do instead of the other way around. Instinct's a hell of a thing sometimes, and this is one that keeps the species goin'."

Well, most species, but he figures he doesn't need to specify at this point.

It's a small, snappy sound to hear a raccoon snap its little digits. Nike feels the corner of her mouth quirk upward without her meaning to. She wipes her expression clean a moment later, but the amusement lingers in her eyes.

"You are very wise. What may I call you, sir?" There's no condescension of any kind behind her words. No sarcasm. It's fair to say that much like certain members of Rocket's gang, Nike would probably not recognize it even if she heard it.

"You know so much about humans. I am humbled to be receiving of your guidance."

Rocket's heard such things be said sarcastically, hiding mockery like a blade being concealed behind your back, ready to stab the first idiot who reaches out in friendship. But every now and then, there's somebody who smacks of an almost naive sincerity, or at the very least, completely devoid of deception.

She kinda reminds of Mantis like that, just a little.

"Name's Rocket. I ain't an expert on humans, but I've lived around 'em for a few years now."

"Rocket. I will remember this. I am designated as Nike, in the service to Blaze-37." While there was no hint of condescension in her remarks to Rocket, there is more than a touch of pride to her words when she introduces herself underneath the Exo Guardian.

"I have likewise found myself surrounded by humans for years now, however my understanding of them has not grown with the speed yours has. I am grateful to learn more about them. It's...necessary. Since my job is supposed to be helping to protect them."

Designated, she says. Like it's a serial number given to a machine, or a lab experiment. As someone who once lacked a name besides 89P13, Rocket is not terribly fond of that concept, and it shows in the way his ears lay back a bit. "What kinda service?" Could be totally innocent, of course, but Rocket tends not to assume the best of folks.

"They ain't easy to understand," he agrees, still a little wary of what exactly her service entails. "Every time you think you've got 'em, they come out with some weird new shit that trips you up. But they ain't bad people, some of them."

"Anything she commands of me. Typically these tasks involve using my abilities to heal the sick and injured, or to destroy anything that would seek to harm the people of either the Nexus or her home. Although, admittedly, I would do those things even if she did not ask."

Out of anyone Nike could have sold her soul to for survival's sake she feels like she's made the right choice. Blaze does not often bid her to do anything she would object to. And usually That is being left behind.

"They do not seem bad, no. Helpless, much of the time. But determined despite that."

Anything she commands. That sounds like slavery to Rocket, though he's always been kinda fuzzy on the distinction between that and... you know, having a career. Unless that's where the 'I'd do this anyway' part comes in.

Hmm. More thought required. Probably won't happen.

Either way, as skeevy as he finds it, she doesn't seem upset to be in this Blaze-37's service, so... whatever. Is what it is. "You ain't wrong," he says, eyeing her one last time before dropping that thought. "They don't give up easy. Even when it's the smarter thing to do. Tell you the truth, sometimes I still don't get it. But you find yourself pickin' up their habits sometimes, hangin' around."

Natasha had been like that. Even when the other Avengers had drifted apart, or outright quit, she never did. Kept fighting until the end. And look what they got back because she did? Doesn't mean he doesn't miss the hell out of her, though.

There's an awful lot to find skeevy about straight up contracting one's soul away. A whole lot more than the person who owns it even understands after all these years. For Nike though it is a relief to not have to spend time on mortal concerns. If she dies she can be bidden back. No need to waste energy on looking for food when Blaze's Light sustains the demon. She only knows servitude or the sick fear in being a prey animal trying to survive in a deep dark ocean.

Without the frustration of trying to understand the humans she's meant to protect thanks to Rocket's tutelage the demon relaxes back into a blank faced calm. Serene once more amid the chaos she is surrounded by.

"Healthy is sexy," she quotes seriously with a nod but frowns a moment later. "That being the case though, one would assume self preservation would be more highly valued. You have given me much to think about." And a blessed sense of reason to a conundrum she'd been at her wits end to comprehend.

"Indeed. I'll be living among them for the foreseeable future. Integrating is my best course of action."

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