15453/A Couple of Haters

A Couple of Haters
Date of Scene:	25 July 2023
Location:	Lower Deck - Milano
Synopsis:	Nebula gets in Rocket's stash of junk. Somehow they don't fight.
Cast of Characters:	Nebula, Rocket

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Nebula has posed:
Nebula has been going through the mechanical section, which is usually well organized and under Rocket's care. But she wants a particular part as she's tinkering with her cybernetics and she isn't the type to ask permission.

She's on her hands and knees, going through a box of parts, dumping the unwanted chips, screws and various doodads haphazardly on the floor. Her robotic eye categorizes things quickly as she shifts, keeping its own tally of what she's encountered. Not so she can put it back, mind you, just so she knows what they have.

She sighs with frustration and finally calls out. "Furry thing! I need a hydraulic elbow servo! All you have are knees!"

Rocket has posed:
Some things are sacred. There ain't a lot of that where Rocket's concerned, but usually he brooks no argument when it comes to his drawers of junk, whatever he's collected over the years. Junk to others, but not him. He prides himself on being able to find the right thing for the job, whatever the job may be.

So when someone, even Nebula, comes rooting around in it, that's bound to raise his ire. A lot of things do. It doesn't take much.

"First of all, my name ain't 'Furry Thing,' Nebula! And secondly.." He comes in with a pair of work goggles propped up above his eyes, near his triangular ears, wiping his hands on an already oily rag. "Heyheyhey! HEY! That's my stuff you're making a mess of! And the elbow servos ain't even in those flarking bins! Hold on."

Gesturing toward another set of things, his ringed tail bristles mildly as he rummages in that section for all of five seconds before lobbing something over his shoulder in her direction. "There. Think fast. Why do you need another one, anyway?"

Nebula has posed:
Nebula catches the thrown device in one hand, cocking her head at Rocket with the other. Once, she would not have tolerated such words. Even speaking to her with a raised voiced has cost a few former colleagues body parts. Not once they could easily replace and mostly ones they missed very dearly.

But she's trying this 'team' thing and she has to tolerate these creatures, no matter how smelly or loathsome or weird looking they might be. But enough about Peter Quill.

"My left arm has a catch in it. I think I got some shrapnel in it during our last battle. Costs me .6 seconds in weapon draw. Not acceptable."

"I will...put thing back as I found them," she mutters.

Rocket has posed:
Much the same is Rocket, who has mellowed in a few ways ever since Halfworld and the truth learned by the rest. It certainly doesn't mean he's turned into a pushover, or that he's been declawed in the literal or proverbial sense. There have just been times where others would have to admit he's been..helpful and even nice, rather than rude and obnoxious.

"Can't be having that in a tight spot," he acknowledges. "Might make all the difference. And yeah, thanks. Back where it all belongs."

He gives himself a moment to groom a spot or two around the face, watching Nebula quietly for a few long moments before he admits, "You know, I used to think you were just a cold, heartless scutbag. Lately, I've been thinking you're mostly just cold." That's practically a glowing review from him.

Nebula has posed:
Nebula is placing things back precisely in the order she removed them, almost reversing her motions. She isn't a robot, but she sometimes wishes she were. She doesn't mourn her lost flesh, other than the pain and misery that it usually took to lose it. She is improved. She is better than she ever was. None of which excuses the things that Thanos did to her. None of which means she won't rip his eyes out of their sockets when she sees him again.

"I'm still heartless. Both literally and figuratively," she says. "I haven't gone soft. We just need to work together. That's how I get what I want. I will give respect, so long as it is continues to be given to me in return."

"But don't expect me to shed tears at any of your funerals. I do not care. I do not love. I do not 'friend'."

Rocket has posed:
"Eh. I plan on outliving the rest of you anyway," Rocket states in a very matter-of-fact way. "When I joined up with this crew, all I was thinking of was the best way to rob them blind. Groot and me, we were gonna have it all and leave everyone else on some backwater planet in a sector nobody else has ever heard of. Things didn't exactly go that like that, though."

The creature scoffs. "I ain't saying we're friends, but somehow we've ended up working pretty well together. You know, in a flarking chaotic kind of way. I ain't gonna lie. Sometimes I even get a kick out of seeing how things go wrong and how we find a way out of it. Keeps a guy sharp."

Watching Nebula impressively put everything back in its place, he seems on the verge of adding more only to reconsider for the moment.

Nebula has posed:
Nebula listens and considers what Rocket has said. "We have formed an effective unit. Almost in spite of ourselves. Certainly in spite of some of our more idiotic teammates."

She doesn't have it in her - well, not that she'd admit - to liking people. But she does have preferences. "You are not as annoying as some of the others. I suppose. You at least have skills and an admirable capacity for violence. You are not troubled with all of this whining and self-doubt."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket offers, "You're especially good at killing. As much as this is gonna make me twitch, I'm gonna say something I heard Quill say before. Game appreciate game." Sure enough, an eye squints and an ear flicks a couple times as he shivers briefly. "That felt dirty."

It's also not that Rocket /likes/ others as much as he simply hates them less. Earn his respect and that's a good way to get there. "And I gotta go here, because it's been on my mind a bit lately. We've both had some pretty fragging bad stuff forced on us and come out better for it, haven't we? If you still got plans to take someone out, and I got a pretty good idea who, you got me, my genius, and all my guns on your side."

Nebula has posed:
Nebula nods, "I will make use of them. I will use everything I have to get my pounds of flesh. He owes me at least sixty of them, torn out of me, bit by bit, cell by cell. A dozen years of pain, at least, but I'll condense as many of them into the few seconds of life I let him have. Once I figure out how to kill him for good. And once I..."

She pauses, for a moment, her face still.

"Once we find him."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket's about the last one to be all touchy-feely or offer words of inspiration...so Nebula gets none of that out of him. They still haven't been /close/ at all as teammates, especially after she almost killed him before redeeming herself a bit by directing everyone to get him to Halfworld. She went from attacking him to helping get his life saved.

"We're both monsters. We didn't ask to get made into what we are. I hate admitting it, but I know I used to be a raccoon. Everybody wants to make fun of that, but they shut up real quick when a plasma cannon is right up under their noses. But I was made to protect others and keep them safe." There's a pause at this, and he verbally adds, "Scoff."

Clearly, he doesn't completely buy into the 'protector' idea, yet it's a role he's sort of fallen into with the Guardians.

"Maybe Quill needs protecting after all. I really hope he ain't the best that mudball planet of his has to offer, then I remember I've met other humies there and I ain't so sure."

Nebula has posed:
Nebula looks at Rocket for a long moment. Then: "I don't know what a raccoon is."

"I have monitored some of their broadcasts. They have heroes much greater than Quill. But Quill is one of us, too. Even if he is a buffoon. He is our buffoon. I would not trade him for their Captain America or their Batman."

"One of the Kryptonians, on the other hand, I'd toss Quill out of the airlock myself."

Rocket has posed:
"Scoff." There Rocket goes again, actually stating it. "That's what I'm supposed to be. Imagine that. Rocket Flarking Raccoon. Eh. Maybe it has a ring to it." Could he be considering...? Naaaah.

He comes over and pulls up a datapad, showing a display of an actual raccoon. It fits the mascots from the baseball game, the people wearing the silly furry costumes. It also displays scientific data on the species. "That's what they made me from. Now you know all you need to about that."

A shoulder shifts in a shrug. "All of us, we're good at what we do. Somehow, it's worked so far. Hopefully it does long enough for you to get the loser you're after and you don't try to stab us all in the back. Or, you know, the stomach. I might agree with you about that last part, even."

Nebula has posed:
"Seems to me, neither you or I is much interested in what we were supposed to be. We like to make our own decisions. We can be who we want to be."

She nods in agreement, "We are a motley crew. But we survive. A lot of times, we even win. At least since I joined up."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket adds to that, "And as long as we get paid well and on time, there's a lot of scut I can let slide." The datapad is tucked away again and he crosses his arms for a few seconds, surveying the area. "So I guess what I'm saying is I'd rather have you on my side than the other side."

Before any awkward responses or silences can happen, there's a call heard from elsewhere on the ship. "I AM GROOT!" His snout opens and shuts, then he rubs at a spot between the mask around his eyes thanks to the typical raccoon patterns. "That's my cue. Hope that servo cuts out the lag time and all that."

He turns to bellow, "I heard you the first time, you oaf!" Whatever Groot said, he isn't translating. Even so, by this point the rest of the crew has been able to figure it out through a combination of translators and familiarity.

"Nebula, if you need anything else, just do me a favor and tell me what you took later on so I don't have to deal with any surprises."