Owner	Pose
Drax	Sometimes, you can't avoid needing to stock up.  It's not like Quill planned on having a bunch of extra passengers around. Ellex was so 'conveniently' in range after Drax not being able to comprehend why there isn't anymore milk (who would do such a thing...that is not go and get more.  He already finished it off personally).  Never mind that it's a galactic shithole of a space way station with bathrooms comparable to a dive bar. The station is sizable enough to support deep space living for the people who work there and anyone renting a room.  It has the look of some big dark, cobbled monstrosity and the inside is even worse. This particular station is known for its warren of shops and watering holes, street vendors, and not their food safety rating. Everyone's expected, bullied, guilted into doing their part.  When Drax volunteered to go get tonight's dinner, he chose Rocket to come along while the others tend to more medium and long term supplies and ship maintenance. "It smells /wonderful/," Drax says with a hint of wonder, that intense blue-red ringed gaze searching for the source as they round the corner from one of the hangars.
Rocket	Rocket might have wondered why Drax chose him to go with him for a supply run on Ellex. It doesn't take long for one possible reason to become clear: Ellex, in ways, looks like a massive trash heap. So it might not be quite that bad, but there's not much open space, most of it packed in with vendors, stalls, people, and yes, in places, a hefty amount of garbage. Both Drax and Rocket draw glances from vendors and visitors alike, a variety of species that range from mostly humanoid to considerably less than. None, however, look quite like Rocket. It takes him multiple steps for every one taken by Drax just to keep pace, creating a comical juxtaposition between the two. One big, one not so much, but the gun strapped to Rocket's back makes up for a lot of it. The grip extends up over a shoulder, with the business end close to dragging along the ground. He looks up, way up, to search out Drax's face for eye contact. "It smells like something, that's for sure." A lot of smells, some more interesting than others. He's drawn toward one of the piles of refuse, little fingers of one little hand wiggling as he roots around for something, coming up with a chunk of metal he examines for a few seconds. Then, "Naaaah," and it's tossed over a shoulder.
Drax	It's not hard to draw glances.  Rocket's...Rocket, and Drax is Drax.  Kylosians aren't exactly around every corner in the galaxy either.  He squints hard at a passerby who is stuck in a stare.  "Voo!" (yeah, voo) he barks loudly, taking a step toward the tentacle-haired thing.  Tentacles curl up over his face right before the poor guy runs off. Blessed without Rocket's sense of smell, Drax doesn't have to deal with the whole myriad of smells, but, "Wait.  That is foul," he says suddenly when Rocket starts investigating.  The foul thing is a kitten with three eyes in the middle of an involved...bath.  The creature is filthy.  It's almost as if it is licking the grime off as a source of sustenance. "Have you eaten this creature before?"
Rocket	Rocket's little nose wrinkles, and his beady little eyes return to Drax after the being with the tentacle hair is frightened off. "Boo. It's boo," he corrects, shaking his little head. There's a lot about Rocket that's little, which makes the big gun a sharp contrast. He comes up with a half-eaten piece of space fruit, pink and prickly, and it ends up about three-quarters eaten in a few seconds before he chucks that, too, back into the pile. Some sample from the vendors themselves. Some have alternative ways of going about it. The three-eyed kitten bathing itself gets a long look from Rocket, who stops to do a little cleaning up himself courtesy of licking near a hand and wiping it across the side of his face. "What do you think, big guy? It's right there and all in one piece, ain't it?" He's found Drax to be a very literal thinker. Might as well speak to that.
Drax	"That's what I said," Drax states with his confident earnestness.  Then...Rocket starts cleaning himself.  Apparently Drax doesn't have enough hangups to think bathing in public is such a bad thing because he doesn't bat an eyelash, instead continuing to answer Rocket's rhetorical question. "You ate the garbage over this trash creature," the big guy points out with a forefinger.  "You either know what it tastes like and are trying to trick me...or the garbage tastes better."  Drax tries to piece it together from subtext, another area he personally isn't always so adept at, especially the further matters get from the heart. "We all must eat." Drax points out, likely calling attention to the fact that Rocket just ate something.  "We all have to share.  I share less because I'm bigger than you...and Quill.  Well, not here," Drax indicates his midsection.  It's not true if strictly going by circumference. Drax steps closer to the kitten and reaches out to pet the 'kitten' casually.  Surprisingly, there's only minor curious batting at first.  "Ah.  You are getting free food so you can buy something fun."  Yeah, he's got it allll figured out alright. Looking down, "It's friendly."  Sure.
Rocket	Does Drax even /have/ eyelashes? If not... "The fruit was fine. It only had a couple of worms in it." He does not elaborate when it comes to whether or not he ate the worms as well. He merely shrugs at the Kylosian. "If you wanna sample the wares, I ain't stoppin' ya. Knock yourself out." He waves his hands after this, trying to cast that suggestion aside. "On second thought, don't knock yourself out." He might be needed for protection around this place, or at least to provide a distraction. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there!" In a moment, Rocket is close enough to reach up to slow the descent of Drax's hand from going any further than his midsection. "You're gettin' real close to 'too much info' territory!" After a potentially embarrassing moment is avoided, he plants his hands at his sides while watching Drax's interactions with the kitten. "Yeah, I bet. That's not for eating. Over here." He snaps his fingers and motions for his much larger companion to follow, rapid steps taken in the direction of some of the food stalls, with other items nearby. Along the way, he pauses at the sight of something and a slow grin begins to spread across his muzzle. As a few of the citizens pass by, they provide excellent cover for him to sneak a container of shaving cream into a small bag. It doesn't have room for much else, as it happens.
Drax	"You are better at finding things."  Plus this other thing is much more interesting.  Drax drops into a squat to get on the kitten's level.  "Yuck.  He eats worms."  He begins to stare into that third eye as if trying to figure out its function. Straightening up, he looks down at Rocket.  "What territory is this?"  He looks around as if some mystical territory crept up on /him/.  "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" he asks gruffly.  "I see nothing," he says after a moment, lowering his guard. When Rocket starts to lead him toward the stalls, Drax quickly grabs some torn discarded bolt of fabric and sets the kitten in the center.  He wraps it up like a stork's special package and holds it from the bottom, crooking it close to his side like an Earther's sports ball. Drax catches up with Rocket with a few short strides, none the wiser.
Rocket	Better a kitten wrapped up and cradled against Drax than Rocket. "I'd rather /eat/ worms than /have/ worms, and if that thing's got any kind of diseases I ain't dealing with it," he notes, acting as if he didn't just steal something. It'll be tough to fit much else inside that little satchel, but he's not too picky when it comes to scavenging for something to nibble on. Asked about the territory, he sounds like he's already moved on from the thought? "What? Oh. Nothing. Maybe I'll explain later." He won't. "We came here for some food and stuff, right? Let's get some. I'll let you carry it back. You're bigger, remember?" Rocket trots on ahead, letting his nose lead the way to where some sort of animal is being grilled on a spit over an open fire. It looks vaguely...raccoon-shaped. This leads to him making a face at it, a rather uncomfortable one, before he backsteps away from the stall. "Nothing to see there. Smells like crap, looks ugly. Probably tasteless."
Peter Quill	Peter was waiting on the Milano, listening to 'Hooked on a Feeling' by Blue Swede, his Walkman hooked on his belt as he did some light work around the ship to make sure it was up to snuff. "Hrm." He looks around for a second. "They've been gone a bit. Hope Rocket hasn't stolen anything from gang lords or Drax hasn't tried to eat him yet. Best go make sure they get up to more trouble." He swings on his leather longcoat and exits the Milano at the dock, making sure he has everything he needs before he heads out. After a time, he finds Drax and Rocket. "Rocket! Footloose!" Footloose being one of the many names he calls Drax. "You find any good grub yet or am I gonna have to invest in a chef?"
Drax	"What thing?"  Drax maintains that ever so persuasive stoic expression as if the fact that he isn't laughing means people won't be able to tell he's fibbing, of a sort. "I would rather have worms so I can throw them into space."  Physics isn't one of his strengths.  Drax continues to follow Rocket and his nose, letting the space raccoon lead him on a leisurely stroll.  He laughs and nods.  "Yes.  Oooh!"  He sees the familiar creatures being spit-roasted.  "Those are good for eating," but as he sees Rocket back away, his expression sobers a little. "Yeah.  They are ugly.  You probably wouldn't like them.  Do you think Mantis eats creatures with faces?" When he hears Quill's voice, he tucks the bundle in a little closer to his side.  "I do not have loose feet.  You can see them."  It's only the second time he's insisted this.  "Well, they are under these boots," he adds as he looks down.
Rocket	"No, they are not," Rocket answers immediately, an expression of distaste showing. He ignores Drax's questions and comments about things and worms, his expression souring out of sight by his shipmate, with him moving on ahead again. Being small, it's easier for him to weave his way through people, and anyone who's blocking his way long enough could risk a bite to help convince them to move. Stopping at another stall, he points at strips of dried meat. "Hey! You! Yeah, the one with the butt for a face!" He's speaking to someone with quite the chin, an orange-skinned alien of some kind. "What's that?" When told it's called 'jerky,' he turns back to Drax to say, "Check it out. They named somethin' after you. And, Mantis? I.." When the captain of the Milano comes into view and can be heard, Rocket's ears flatten visibly for a couple seconds. "Oh, look. It's Quill. We're about this close to having dinner worked out, so could you not do something to screw that up?" Little fingers pinch close together.
Peter Quill	"Really, your one inch from having food worked out? Any fun ideas?" Peter's attention shifts to Drax. "Your right, but they are a little stiff." he smirks just a little bit, though he does seem to e thinking as his eyes shoot low back to Rocket. "I'm not going to screw it up....I'm just going to make it a little more exciting if I get the chance. Don't ask, I pretty much just make stuff up as I go." Ravager way: some plans are for chumps. Though he crosses his arms. "You haven't uh, pissed anybody off yet, right? Especially buttcrack chin over there?"
Drax	Drax shoots Rocket a dour look that passes when Rocket starts checking with Quill.  He looks around for the food they are so close that, "No you cannot eat this!"  He pulls the bundle up to his chest.  It starts moving wildly and he shifts it to the other side.  Then the bundle stops moving.  Nothing to see here. "The rodent ate trash.  We are on our own.  He has no plans to feed us."  Drax is...well, his speech is very demonstrative in general.  To him, he is just stating facts. Drax looks over to butthead dude, craning his head over some humanoid with a bad hairdo, "Crack face is licking his...I do not know what that is."  Lips?
Rocket	"I AM NOT A RODENT!" Rocket cuts in, a flash of anger released. "AND THERE ARE FOOD STALLS HERE AS FAR AS I CAN SEE, EVEN IF I CAN'T SEE MUCH IN THIS CROWD, SO STOP BEING...BEING...YOU AND JUST PICK SOMETHING!" The little bundle of fury has his moment and huffs at both Drax and Peter, the challenge evident in his eyes. Just push him further! "Why don't you try having some of assface's jerky?" he adds, gesturing aggressively toward the poor alien and his massively cleft chin. The creature also does not look very happy, waving his hands at them dismissively like he wants them to go somewhere else. As for Rocket, he's stomping off toward another vendor, snapping at anyone he deems too near. "Outta my way!" The target of his aggression this time is someone who couldn't even touch him without getting closer. There are more firepits with meats cooking, some whole, dead animals waiting to be bought, some whole, /alive/ animals waiting to be bought, plus a variety of fruits and vegetables of known and unknown origins. Lots of drinks as well, and that isn't even getting into the clothing, materials, gadgets, and assorted junk.
Peter Quill	"He's so cute when he's cranky." Peter side-whispers to Drax. "But its true, you're not a rodent. Your a Rocketman." Peter throws in a little song reference in there before he looks at Drax. "I think thats his Willy Wonka." He gags, shaking his head. "Looks like a hot dog bun had botched surgery." Quill tells, before his attention shifts to Rocket as he seemingly stomps off. "Well, I can tell he's having a good day. Where's Groot when you need him? Also, I'm kinda hungry for some steak. Jerky doesn't sound that good, reminds me of a Kree chick I spent some time with."
Drax	Drax tilts his head down at Rocket when he cuts in.  He chuckles a bit at Quill and nods.  "He is adorable." "I am not hungry...," he says placidly.  He's searching for what to call Rocket, as if calling a pet by its name makes it a pet.  The logic doesn't make sense, but when does Drax not have his way about things?  That's been clear from the get go. A hunter, a warrior; the get food when you're hungry mentality is burned into his brain.  "I had a bowl of fruit before we left the ship."  In his hands, it looked like a baby's bowl. "Here whatever-I-call-you," Drax extends a hand down to Rocket with a warm, faint grin.  "You can see from my shoulder and no one will step on you...Yes.  Steak looks good."  But he's not hungry.  "I can see it!"  He enthusiastically points with the suddenly-again-thrashing bundle toward...well it's just like a big gyro meat spit thing.  He walks off, whether the others are with him, riding him, or what.  His body plows through, making a path for anyone who follows closely enough. "Is this steak meat?" Drax demands of the vendor, pointing his finger too closely to the meat. There is...a hesitation.  "Yes." "I FOUND THE STEAK MEAT!" he lets out victoriously, laughing at such luck.
Rocket	Rocket snaps at Drax, verbally if not literally, "NO! I don't need your help, you big oaf! And why do you always go around without a shirt on? Go get one! Stop showing off!" He avoids the hand reaching out for him, still toting that oversized gun that happens to hook into a spot across his back. It's to everyone's benefit he hasn't reached for it yet. All Quill gets from him is, "Whatever." He has either not heard the song in question, or he doesn't want to deal with it right now. Cute, adorable, he is neither of these things in his eyes. He is a stone-cold killer on a mission, and he won't be stopped until he's found what he's after. "Oh!" Is that..paydirt? He scurries on ahead, going down to all fours as needed, before he leaps at a chunk of meat on display that's larger than he is, only to end up with his path interrupted by a clear partition preventing customers from doing, well, something like he just tried. "Oof!" He bounces off and lands upright, a snarl seen and heard. /Now/ the gun comes out, powering up as he points it at the glass or plastic or whatever it is he struck. "I want that and you're not gonna keep me from it with your invisible barriers! I'll shoot them all down if I have to!" The vendor has fear in his eyes, and for good reason. If there are other invisible barriers around, how will Rocket know what to fire at?
Peter Quill	Peter tilts his head. "...then why are you looking for food?" he asks of Drax, crossing his arms as his attention is spared from Rocket for a moment. When he explains heh as eaten, Peter just nods. "Oh." His attention then shifts to Rocket as he barks back at Drax. Then comes the announcement of steak meat. "....Right, steak meat." He clears his throat. "YEAH!" and he juts his arms into the air. "Now, lets get it all back to the ship so we cna get it cooking and ready for our departure. Otherwise, I feel like Gamora might hit me." pause. "again." He then looks at Rocket. "Ooohhh shit." He approaches Rocket. "Rocket!"
Drax	Drax knows he's a humble guy.  He doesn't have to tell this talking beast that.  After a beat, "None of them fit.  And they itch."  His expression breaks with laughter, still working out his mirth.  It doesn't get any easier. When Rocket smacks into the barrier, Drax guffaws, slapping his knee, the little bundle almost wiggling into a successful fumble.  "You just ran into that invisible wall!" momentarily disrupting Rocket's recovery. More invisible barriers?  Well the fastest path from point Rocket to point 'Steak' is Drax.  He looks over at Quill and hands him the bundle, which amounts to a three-eyed 'kitten' in a garbage-foraged stork-sack. Drax turns square up on the stall in a ready position as he draws his blades.  "I'm working up an appetite."  Luckily he spots some paneling below in the half wall barrier below those barriers.  "Non-Rodent!  Down there!"  He sheathes a blade to rip off one of the smaller metal panels about the side of a doggy door.  He tosses it over his shoulder and it nails another passerby in the head which Drax must have not notices with his singular focus on Rocket and being ready to spring. "When you get in, let us in!...Ready yourself Quill."
Rocket	If Rocket wanted room around him, drawing the gun that makes him look even smaller is one way to accomplish it. He brandishes the weapon in what he believes is a menacing way, and that seems to be good enough for those nearby. This includes the vendor. "Here! Take it! Take it, you crazy..thing!" He doesn't even have a way to describe what kind of creature Rocket is, but he picks up the hunk of meat and slides it toward Rocket, through an /opening/ in the previously-believed-to-be-impassable wall of invisibility. "Look at that! He made a space in it! Smart man. Now we don't have to starve because you don't have any food on the ship, Star-Chump!" It becomes a balancing act of holding on to the beef, which smells so good right now, and his gun, and both are fumbled around for a few seconds. "Whoa..I'm losin' it!" It gives an opening for Drax or Peter to get in close enough for the save, and to pay if either of them are feeling that kind of way, but as far as Rocket's concerned he's just been given an offering. Any laughter or concern from Rocket's shipmates is a little secondary to the moment right now, but Drax is doing a fine job of beginning to dismantle the front of the vendor's stall.
Peter Quill	Peter suddenly gets a bundle of goodness, which makes him stumble al ittle bit from the suddenness of Drax dropping stuff to him...which includes a fugly three-eyed kitten. "What the -hell-." Peter says to Drax as he gets moving to draw those blades of his. "Drax!" When he's apparently already moving, Peter just sighs. "Dammit." Peter calls out to Drax. "DRAX!" he runs over, the bundle shoved under an arm as best as he can while he goes to help Rocket with the save, helping keep Rocket stable and his gun probably still in his hands. "Can we -not- break everything in sight?!"
Drax	Drax doesn't see the exchange above him, so he has yet to see the vulnerability in the barrier above.  "What are you waiting for?!" he looks up from where he's kneeling.  "How did you-This is impossible!"  Rocket?  Getting past Drax without him noticing?  Well, that's what he thinks. "That isn't big enough for everyone.  I will get it myself."  Then mutters as he stoops, "Selfish."  He reaches into the recesses of where he ripped off the panel, ready to keep going when Quill interjects.  Drax grunts and pushes up onto his feet with a fist, which he then pounds on the 'invisible' wall.  BOOM BOOM BOOM. "Give us more steak meat," he says like some daunting figure, coming for the vendor's soul.
Rocket	Let's be honest: if Rocket doesn't /have/ to pay for something, he won't. This is why he has a reputation in some circles as a pest and a thief, but with the weaponry he totes around there are many who don't dare say that to his fuzzy face. "C'mon! Let's get the hell outta here!" he shouts, having managed, with Quill's help, to collapse his gun to stash it behind him again, while cradling the giant (to him) slab of meat in both hands and arms, running practically blind thanks to it blocking his forward line of sight. If it's going to be that way, he's going to need some direction back to the ship. "Drax! What are you /doing?/ I got the payload! And can we just break most things in sight, Quill?" Haha, he totally didn't even have a retort to 'Star-Chump.' That's right. Take it. That invisible wall begins to crack in a few places. Yes, it's just some kind of plexiglass. The vendor just...runs away, probably calling for security for good measure.
Peter Quill	Peter uuuuugghhhhsss. "Drax! We have to book!" Peter tells to Drax as he jerks his thumb in the direction of the Milano. "Because I'm pretty sure we are not going to be allowed back here and I'd rather -not- deal with the Nova Corps!" he calls to Drax, before he looks to Rocket, helping him stabalize before he's on the move. "FINE! you can break most things in sight." Might as well take it. "Stinking space puppy." Peter returns fire with the name calling. Of course, Quill just pulls out one of his quad-lasers and attempts to shoot this invisible wall Drax seems fascinated with while he's on the go. Hopefully he breaks it.
Drax	Jaw clenched, brow furrowed, adrenaline flooding.  Drax looks at the cracks and grunts into a growl.  Kneeling to keep tearing the wall away from below the glass, then pots, pans?  What is this?  Debris starts flying back behind him as Quill starts to shoot at the plexiglass.   Then he grabs the lower edge of the plexiglass to rip it clean out when Peter's attack is successful.  "Haha!  Your guns aren't useless!" When Quill tells him to book, it's the second time, and luckily this gets through the Kylosian's determined haze.  Well really it was 'Nova Corps' that got his attention.  He simply turns, grabs the whole rotisserie machine in one arm and shouts,  "Where is the furry thing Quill?!"  Spotting it, he scoops it up into his other arms where the think sinks its claws into his bicep. Sure enough, security is trying to get through the crowded byways between them and the Milano in an attempt to cut them off from leaving. "Over there!"
Rocket	Rocket is still on his slower, but potentially disastrous path back to the ship, and in order to see better he takes a few bites out of the meat along the way. That helps, he finds, and he shouts back with mouth half full, "I'M NOT A SPACE PUPPY, YOU MORON!" Were his hands not full of tasty steakmeat, he might be clapping them with glee at the destruction Drax and even Quill are wreaking on the poor vendor's stall, all because of a barrier to keep people from touching or swiping the meat. Still, he scampers. It's not the shortest walk back, but it's even longer for someone of his size with what he's carting. Many eyes stare even as security responds.
Peter Quill	"I have the damn cat!" Peter calls to Drax, happily handing over the little space devil to Drax as they move. He sprints straight for the Milano with crowded streets being perhaps their only saving grace being crowds keeping them back. "And my guns are never useless!" he retorts swiftly. Though to Rocket, he calls over. "You definitely eat like one!" its all in good natured fun....probably. All the same, Peter will likely be the first to make it to the Milano. "Get the supplies on board! We're blowing this popsicle stand! Kevin goddamn Bacon style!"
Drax	"I thought they were toys!" Drax calls out as he loads their /feast/ to supplement Rocket's more than adequate hunk o steakmeat, knocking out a Nova Corps lackey with the metal portion along the way.  He chuckles at the image of Rocket eating in his head as he gets to work loading the remaining supplies as quickly as possible. Then he hangs out at the top of the ramp, leaning his muscly arm against the hull.  "Ready."
Rocket	"What's that about bacon? We have bacon?" Rocket asks, and he has to slurp up some drool before it can get all over the meat. Pavlovian response, anyone? Maybe the piece he has, he should keep for himself. One of the security lays down a line of fire on him! It misses, but he snarls at the guy. "Ooooh, you're soooo damn lucky my hands are full and I'm hungry, otherwise I'd come over there and RIP YOUR STINKIN' FACE OFF!" Amazingly, he reaches the Milano without getting shot, without losing that hunk of meat, without paying for it, /and/ without losing the bag with the canister of shaving cream hidden inside. So far, so good. "You guys wanna know how to get rich and stay rich? Don't pay for anything!"
Peter Quill	Peter rushes to the pilot's seat, buckling up and returning fire with the Milano's cannons. The shots are of warning, apparently, as he doesn't specifically shoot security, just enough to make 'em scramble like rats who just caught got raiding the liquor cabinet. All the same, Peter begins flying the Milano out of there after he ovverides the docking hold, flying off into the reaches of space. Talk about too close for comfort! "Whew..." After a moment's pause, he calls back. "What all did we make out with?"
Drax	"A whole steakmeat and a steakmeat maker!" Drax has no idea that it actually roasts the meat of course. This is what happens Peter. This is what happens.
Rocket	"I made out with a big piece of meat that's gonna last me about a week," Rocket boasts, after stashing it away. Oh, he will be working that thing down. Yes, he will. "And you're gonna be making out with..whatever you do when you're all alone by yourself, Quill," he adds, snickering as he settles into his customary front seat in the Milano's cockpit. "Now let's blow this joint. Oh, waitasec..." After rummaging around in a small area beneath the console, he comes up with a data tablet. A few swipes across the transparent screen followed by a satisfied tap leads to him adding, "By my count, that's the fifth outpost in the last two weeks we've probably ruined any shot of returning to. Well done, boys. Well done."