tactician
ย a natural savant, both the resident tactician && mechanic of Peter Quill's team.
marksman
ย able to build && operate most weapons' systems with ease and unparalleled accuracy.
pilot
ย captain of the Rack 'N' Ruin; can adapt to fly most vehicles able for space-travel.
It is with a certain level of defiance that Rocket steps onto the landing; overlooking a bustling hub that reluctantly has the name S.H.I.E.L.D. tethered to it. On his shoulder is a particularly aggressive-looking rifle whose make is both customized and other-worldly. Nevermind that it’s barrel retracts onto itself- eagerly uncoiling with little more than a punch of a button inlaid into it’s hefty grip.
she arrived unannounced, which didn’t mean to say that he wasn’t alerted towards her arrival but, whereas he might have stolen away into the corner of the ship for SOLITUDE, logan had sought out a moment of silence from the unfamiliar noises of familiarity – the WOLVERINE had always been a lonely creature.
an animal, perhaps not in the way she was envisioned (different from him) but, it was the sentiment that lay beneath the scars of their savagery that kept them common ;; neither of them had asked to be made. the sight of his scars did not cause her to wince, nor did it erupt her with feelings of pity – both would have been disgusting showings of emotions that, through her own experience, she knew he could do without. it was an innate sense of being that they shared that seemed to give her an invitation to speak.
❝ this ship always smell like a whorehouse ? ❞ ( a quality that only they could sense given their gifts )
His nose had long since gone numb to some of the less-than-pleasant scents that hung in the dark corners of Peter’s ship. He needn’t borrow it at all if his own ship— the Rakk ‘n’ Ruin
—weren’t in the custody of a Nova Corp impound thanks to one Star-Lord.
❝Unfortunately, I’m gonna hafta say ‘yeah’.❞ Rocket’s answer was short, but good natured. It wasn’t with many that the raccoon would be as friendly, but their plights were understood between them. He didn’t need to defend against the unwanted attention and sympathy that came tethered to unwarranted tragedy. Instead, he could smile at her, cocking a brow. ❝Long time, no see.❞
“What’re you working on?” He asks, taking a sip of the hot coffee as he takes a few steps toward Rocket.
Rocket’s ear preceded his head in turning toward the soldier. His hands paused in their work as he answered. ❝Keeps gettin’ jammed after a couple rounds; Decided I should fix it. I got nothing else t’do.❞
Lylla was waiting when he stepped off the boarding dock and it didn’t occur to him how she had known to meet her. It had been some time since he had made his way back to Halfworld; his goal had been to surprise her.
❝This was s’pose to be a birthday surprise. Yer makin’ me look less thoughtful, Ly.❞
❝ How many times am I going to have to tell you NOT to touch that ? ❞
The billionaire reached down to rocket’s level && snatched the piece of metal out of his hands (paws ). Holy shit– is this how everyone else felt around Tony? He wasn’t exactly one to LISTEN, either.
❝ If you’d like to KEEP both your PAWS– ( Damn it, he already regretted that choice of word. He was fully aware of the fact that Rocket HATED being compared to a Raccoon. According to HIM, he was no such thing– though, Tony wasn’t going to fight him on it. Last time he did that, he had a big ass gun pointed in his face ). ❝ –I suggest you step away from my things. ❞
at least one more time.
The paw comment perked the halfworlder’s ears, and his masked face lifted to narrow a pair of dark eyes on the mechanic. Nose wrinkling- hand itching to reach for a nearby pistol -he refrained from snatching back the scrap that Tony had confiscated. Instead, gaze locked on contact, he ripped up another floor panel. His reply was a quip wrapped not-so-subtly in a hiss.
❝If you wanna keep yer face-❞ From the depths of Stark Tower’s wiring, Rocket produced another bauble identical to the one in Tony’s grasp. ❝I suggest you keep yer paws to yourself.❞
