When the ghosts and monsters disappeared from Itinere, they took with them the living ghost Katniss had clung to so tightly for the past two years. Prim had disappeared; disappeared and didn't come back, instead returned to a world where Katniss had been the one to die. It had hurt, hurt as much as losing her sister the first time. The full moon hadn't been easy to get through. Nothing about the past few weeks had been easy to get through.

But she had survived. She had survived just like she had survived every difficult situation in her past. Her father's death, the Hunger Games and all that had followed. Watching Prim die, only to find her here in Itinere and eventually lose her all over again. Learning to accept her newfound abilities as a werewolf. She had survived. But this time it had been a little easier. Easier not because of the walls built up from tragedy but the walls she had knocked down. Sometime in the past month, Katniss had all but moved in to Matt's apartment without quite realizing it. Having him, knowing he loves her, somehow made pain easier to bear. Things weren't perfect but they weren't as hopeless as before.

Sooner than expected, the pain fades to a dull ache. She starts to spend less time in the woods or hiding in Matt's apartment and more time enjoying what she loves most about Itinere's summers. The beach remains one of her favorite spots, the ocean vast and endless and beautiful. With her new senses, it's as if she's seeing the coast for the first time all over again: the smell of the salt distinct and sharp, the ability to catch sight of small fish swimming in the pools. Walking along the shore gives her the kind of calm that tying Finnick's rope had in a bomb shelter under District 13. She even smiles a little when others pass, no longer feeling as shy and awkward in her skin. It's a good feeling, something that Katniss has missed.

She also starts to spend time at the Houndstooth again. She's missed it, missed chatting with Lucy and trying all the new drinks and foods the girl recommends. One night, rather than going home early, she stays for the open mic night. It's a good day, a day free of any werewolf-caused-accidents or too much of the sadness associated with Prim's loss. Today almost feels like it could be normal and in that, she feels like celebrating. She approaches the empty mic with a shy kind of look on her face. Katniss smooths the front of her shirt, wishing her hair wasn't in the braid so she could almost hide behind it. She's been in the spotlight before but this time, it's something she chooses for no other reason than fun. And then she starts to sing.

"No, seriously! He says he's a planet!"

His voice carries across the room, louder than he initially intended but still filled with every bit of that flabbergast feeling that's been nagging at him since Ego stepped foot outside of the round, white spaceship and declared himself Peter's dad. He's not exactly sure how many days that's been now, though he's half convinced that it's probably a lifetime ago. There had been some time spent traveling from Berhert. And it had to have been at least a day on Ego's planet. How many since he stumbled into this tropical paradise? That's where Peter really lost count.

He hadn't exactly planned to spend most of it hitting up every bar and establishment he could find. That's the kind of thing that just happens. Used to happen a whole lot more before the Guardians of the Galaxy and a shitload of responsibility fell on his shoulders. Whatever door he had wandered through to find himself in this place wouldn't open. And Quill had tried: pulling on the knob multiple times, kicking it hard enough to cause pain to radiate up his leg, even blasting the damn thing. Eventually, he had just given up, slipped his headphones back on, and pressed play on the Walkman. Then he had set off to explore whatever planet he had magically found himself on.

"A planet," Peter continues, ignoring any response the bartender might have had to his story. He takes another long gulp of his beer and shakes his head. Man, were situations reversed, Peter probably wouldn't believe it either. And, oh god-- "Fucking Drax wanted to know how he..." Peter trains off, grimacing with disgust. "My mom and a planet!"

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. The words "mom" and "sex" never belong in the same sentence.

He takes another swig and sighs. He props his elbow on the edge of the bar top, forehead resting in his palm. This is what he needed. Not Drax's perverse questions or Gamora's skepticism or his dad showing off his own personal Garden of Eden. This is what he needs: good beer and a non-opinionated ear to talk to. Yeah, Quill's not going to question how or why he found himself in this place. He's just thankful to be here. Draining the last of the pint, he places the glass down with a satisfying thud. "I need another."