14926/Somewhere and Knowhere

Somewhere and Knowhere
Date of Scene:	15 May 2023
Location:	Knowhere
Synopsis:	FLASHBACK: The Milano lands on Knowhere and spreads out just a little... time for a repair!
Cast of Characters:	Cosmo, Peter Quill, Rocket

---

Cosmo has posed:
Knowhere. It's a place that beckons those on the fringe. The various bars, grills and dives do brisk business with the transients, and the 'regulars' are well known and well documented.

The bar strip is busy, each building filled almost to capacity; music spills out into the dimly lit streets and alleyways, followed by drunks as they stumble forth. Along the pathways, a golden-furred dog walks a few paces, sticks her nose into the air and takes a couple of quick breaths in, deep rich brown eyes turning slowly in the direction behind her.

Peter Quill has posed:
Knowhere is far from the busiest port out there. There are at best three other ships making there way into the spacious confines of the port of call that has formed within the head of a dead god. One of which is the Milano. The Milano which is flying with nothing like the grace that would normally be expected -- either from the ship or it's occasionally competitive pilots. The intricately painted craft is marred by numerous scorch marks and in more then a few cases it looks like pieces of the hull have been scraped away altogether. All told, the ship looks like it's being held together with duct tape and a whole lot of hope as it pulls into its berth with a loud grinding noise, the port side of the craft scraping loudly against the side as sparks fly and nearby spacers cringe at the sound, shooting a glare at the newest arrival.

When the landing ramp descends, Peter Quill -- the legendary Star-Lord! -- is already walking down it, seemingly unconcerned about the rather rough landing or the glares directed their way. "...any landing you can walk away from," he says in apparent high spirits. Spirits that might plunge dramatically when he sees just what the cost of repairs is going to be.

Rocket has posed:
Early in the life of the Guardians of the Galaxy - had they even begun calling themselves that by the time they found Knowhere? - Rocket and Groot joined up with a ragtag group of outcasts. There was no way it was ever going to work, yet their first few missions actually managed to go without any significant disasters.

Not counting the disaster that is one Peter Quill, otherwise known as Star-Lord. So he says.

"Jeez, Quill! Could you land this death trap any more roughly?" Rocket's distinct voice calls out in a shout as they leave a few pieces of the Milano behind upon arrival. "If you handle your women the way you handle this flarking ship, I don't have high hopes for your future."

Soon as he's able to, he scampers his way off the vessel, using all fours for better speed to get him back on relatively solid ground. After all, Knowhere /is/ the giant head of some celestial god or whatever, stationed right there smack dab in the middle of space itself.

"Now then," he says, standing back upright on two legs, checking his suit for any damage, "Who's ready for a dr..ah, scut." The dog in the spacesuit can be seen not too far ahead.

Cosmo has posed:
The smell of tortured metal, burned electronics and perhaps a little bit of hydrolic fluid creates a fragrance like no other, even for the landing platforms. It's that scent that gains Cosmo's attention, and her pace ceases in the one direction, only to wheel around to follow her nose, as it were.

The dog's head drops, nose lowered, and she begins to pad towards the the landed (polite term) spacecraft. Upon approach, her multi-hued collar glows in the dim light (always dim in places like this, right?) as a computerized feminine voice emenates, "That will not fall apart any further?" Does she seem a touch dubious?

Perhaps.

Peter Quill has posed:
There are times that Peter Quill can have a self-assurance that borders on the ridiculous to be sure and while it isn't exactly unknown for him to get a little testy with his irritating -- really, really, really irritating -- co-pilot, it would seem that the self-declared Star-Lord is in a magnanimous mood at the moment, despite the condition of their ship.

Well, mostly.

"Look, if you hadn't decided to play chicken with those pirates and..." he begins, his tone starting to sink towards testiness before he holds up a hand, takes a deep breath and shakes his head for a moment as he steps off the landing ramp and onto Knowhere proper. "Nope. You're not going to draw me into another argument. Pirates thrashes. We're all in one piece, ship included. And more importantly, we got paid," he says.

But he distinctly does not look back at the Milano and the evidence that the mission did not go quite as smooth as he might be suggesting.

Peter does arch a brow as the dog approaches him, dipping his head briefly. "What? My ship. No chance. She's waaaaaay sturdier then she looks," he asserts with a cocky smirk.

In fairness she's almost have to be.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket crosses his arms as Cosmo comes closer, then he undoes that stance and checks a datapad. "We won, didn't we? And technically, /you/ got paid. The credits ain't showin' up for me yet. By the way, what was that noise you were playing earlier? 'In your god with Velveeta?' What /is/ Velveeta, even? And why would you be doing that with it?" So close, yet so far.

At Cosmo's question about the ship, he interjects with a little hand up toward his muzzle. "Look, Quill. I know you're an amateur when it comes to interspecies relations, so let me do all the talking. Ahem." He clears his throat and..starts barking at Cosmo. This lasts for a few seconds before he shrugs, regardless of the outcome, adding of the ship, "Give it a few minutes. It might not be done..settling."

Cosmo has posed:
To Quill's credit, the fact that a dog that looks very much just like an ordinary dog is //talking// and it doesn't take him aback gives him a small hitch on the rung of judgement. Though, to be a little more to the point, she specifically said 'fall apart ANY FURTHER', meaning she probably sees a few pieces lying around already.

"Hmmm.." Did that blinking, multi-colored collar catch her thoughts correctly? "She better be or you are in trouble."

It's the barking from the racoon that gains Cosmo's attention, and the little hairs that serve as 'eyebrows' twitch, her floppy, fuzzy ears quirking forward at the nose. Her head tilts, and seemingly ignoring the noises, makes comment about the latter, "I will rope it off so no one gets hurt." If there is still some settling to happen, and she seems to believe the racoon over the human, "Thank you for warning me."

Peter Quill has posed:
It's good to be the Captain. Though there might be a few disputes still to be played out over that particular claim. But Quill still manages to look a little smug about the balance present in his own account. "I can't imagine how that could possibly happen," he says oh so innocently, temporarily ignoring the fact that the dog in a space suit doesn't seem to entirely trust his word.

Still, while he might be able to ignore it for the moment it is something that is clearly poking at those sensitive human emotions and the smug little smirk on Peter's face vanishes, brow furrowing as he glances back towards Rocket. "In your god with Velveeta? What are you going on about?" he asks a note of confusion -- and maybe irritation -- creeping into his words before some semblance of understanding lights there. "It's not in your god with Velveeta," he says, exasperation plain now in his words. "It's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida and it's a classic... look, nevermind. It doesn't matter right now, but one of these days you're gonna learn some proper music appreciation," he says gesturing towards the space racoon.

At least before whirling towards Cosmo, that exasperation still very much marking his features. The zen-like calm over the somewhat rough landing has definitely dissipated now. "Look, the ship's fine. Nothing that a few repairs won't take care of. My collegue here doesn't know what he's talking about. No need to make a fuss. Just keep a bit of a distance, okay. Respectful-like," he insists.

Geez, some people.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket momentarily forgets about Cosmo, but Cosmo may not miss what he says next as he turns to Peter, his ears flattening. "Quill, if I don't have my share of the payment by the time I go in there for a drink," he points toward the bar, "I'll..I'll...I'll claw up your face and send you back to whatever mudball you came from!"

At least he isn't frothing at the mouth, but it clearly isn't that hard to get his anger up.

"And I don't care about your flarking 'music,' if that's what you're callin' it! Are you threatening me?" Someone's grumpy all of a sudden.

The barking at Cosmo was a lot of nothing, just an attempt to be an annoyance, and its failure to draw a reaction out of Cosmo only adds on to the way /he's/ feeling right now about this whole situation. Before he can say much else, a metal panel drops open on one side of the Milano with a thunk, then swings in place for a couple more seconds before falling off. Without another word, he points. See?!

Cosmo has posed:
It's not a few minutes after Cosmo's suggestion that the Milano be cordoned off ostensibly for safety that a couple of space dock workers begin to arrive with that bright yellow caution tape in hand. It seems to be the same in the universe, with the only variables being the languages 'Caution, do not cross' are written in.

Sitting down now, Cosmo's tail gently twitches as it splays out behind her. Intelligent deep brown eyes look between the pair before the creaking of the ship's plating gives way to a break.. swinging and fall. Once again, she rises to all four paws, and her computerized voice sounds a warning, "Do not cause trouble on this world or you will be asked to leave. And, obviously your ship can not be trusted to take you safely offworld. Other methods will be found."

Swinging around, she looks as if she's ready to leave. "You can ask for help to repair your ship at 'World's End' bar."

Peter Quill has posed:
Their's has been a somewhat tense partnership almost from the get-go. That has been true for the entire team of course. Sometimes it's enough to make Peter wonder how he ever thought it could ever work out. And regret that they gave it a try. And yet, here they still are.

Yup, here they are. In the severed head of a dead Celestial, being lectured by a dog. How far they've come!

The whole mood is starting to go sour fast and Quill glares at Rocket, once more jerking a finger in his direction. "I ain't no thief, you ill-tempered rodent," he says testily. Of course, he is very much a thief. At least some of the time. "You'll get your share, just like you always do!" he adds heatedly. Probably.

"And as for you," Star-Lord continues as he whirls back towards the dog-slash-welcoming-committee. "There's no need to be rude. The ship will be fine," he asserts once more, very plainly ignoring the hull plate that clatters to the decking behind him. Nope, nothing to see there. "I'm going to go see about getting repairs done right now. It's not like we don't have credits," he adds, tone still hot. And maybe a little plantive. It's a lot of damage. "You know, where I'm from people like dogs. Dogs are man's best friend. You're not much of a friend," he says before turning on his heel, starting to storm off towards the World's End' bar.

It's possible that he's muttering something about 'bad dogs' under his breath as he stalks away.

Rocket has posed:
"I'd better get it. And don't call me that. I ain't a rodent," Rocket says immediately after being called a rodent. No yelling or shouting, just a quiet warning. He can get snappy over being called things he doesn't like. No mention of the 'ill-tempered' part.

Yet, it's true. So far, the group has come out on top. They've got a winning streak, dysfunctional as they are, and getting paid along with staying out of prison is a pretty good thing.

Meanwhile, Quill is on his way toward the bar already, and in the moment Rocket doesn't feel much like being in the same building as him. Cosmo is about to depart as well. No loss there, far as he's concerned. The not-raccoon and the security pooch have not exactly been friendly toward each other so far. "Maybe they don't talk where you come from, so you can't understand what they're really saying."

Grumbling under his breath, Rocket picks up a piece of metal to throw at the back of Quill's head, then thinks better of it. A glance toward the Milano, then the scrap, then a few more bits and pieces, odds and ends, and he chuckles under his breath. "Heh-heh-heh. Yeah, that's it."

While Star-Lord is begging or buying repairs, Rocket scurries off to make a few trades. He's got his own work to do on the ship. If it's repairs Quill wants, repairs Quill will get. Oh, will he be surprised once he sees what Rocket's resourcefulness is capable of.