[ Peter Quill lived like a slob, there was no denying that. The other Guardians had their own ideas of what made for an acceptable living space, but with six of them practically on top of one another, clutter just sort of tended to... happen.
And there would come a point where Maya would hit her limit, and she had to clean something before she went totally crazy. She wasn't a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but she liked a certain degree of organization and... empty horizontal surfaces in the common areas of the ship.
So sometimes when the Guardians would go out on the town for a bar crawl or whatever else they did, Maya would take it upon herself to stay behind and do some cleaning. (Common areas only, though. She didn't invade peoples' rooms or mess with whatever projects Rocket had going in the cargo hold.) She didn't mind it- actually, it was sort of meditative in its own way, and since Peter had introduced her to the idea of playlists, it had sure become a lot more fun.
She's currently in the galley with a mop, the others having departed for the evening. Her hair is tied back in a sloppy ponytail (she still hasn't gotten it cut again- she keeps teetering on the issue), and she's wearing a ratty t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. No shoes, though.
She must be pretty confident in the fact that she's alone, because she's dancing around the galley like a goober, singing aloud to the song currently blaring through her headphones. One moment the mop is her microphone, the next it's her dance partner as she slides across the wet floor on bare feet. She's cleaning, really.
Once she told Peter she wasn't a dancer. Funny how all that time with him has changed that. (She enjoyed Star Wars as much as the next girl, but if nothing else, she had really learned to let loose and enjoy the music. It was... sort of freeing.) ]
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And there would come a point where Maya would hit her limit, and she had to clean something before she went totally crazy. She wasn't a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but she liked a certain degree of organization and... empty horizontal surfaces in the common areas of the ship.
So sometimes when the Guardians would go out on the town for a bar crawl or whatever else they did, Maya would take it upon herself to stay behind and do some cleaning. (Common areas only, though. She didn't invade peoples' rooms or mess with whatever projects Rocket had going in the cargo hold.) She didn't mind it- actually, it was sort of meditative in its own way, and since Peter had introduced her to the idea of playlists, it had sure become a lot more fun.
She's currently in the galley with a mop, the others having departed for the evening. Her hair is tied back in a sloppy ponytail (she still hasn't gotten it cut again- she keeps teetering on the issue), and she's wearing a ratty t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. No shoes, though.
She must be pretty confident in the fact that she's alone, because she's dancing around the galley like a goober, singing aloud to the song currently blaring through her headphones. One moment the mop is her microphone, the next it's her dance partner as she slides across the wet floor on bare feet. She's cleaning, really.
Once she told Peter she wasn't a dancer. Funny how all that time with him has changed that. (She enjoyed Star Wars as much as the next girl, but if nothing else, she had really learned to let loose and enjoy the music. It was... sort of freeing.) ]