3924/A Knowhere check in

A Knowhere check in
Date of Scene:	20 February 2018
Location:	Knowhere
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Rocket Raccoon, Star-Lord

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Rocket Raccoon has posed:
For once it's a quiet evening at home for Rocket. After the fun of springing Quill from the prison ship it was nice to just have an evening at home. To kick back. Relax. Work on a few weapons of mass destruction in peace and quiet.

Except Quill decided to drop by. And that means no peace, no quiet. But at least Rocket can still work on his weapons. What could go wrong?

Star-Lord has posed:
Well, Peter can still be peaceful and quiet... except when he's not.

The mans a trouble magnet half the time, he can't help it.

Nonetheless, when he steps into 'Rockets place' the smell immediately hits him, again. There's a by-now familiar nose-tweak as he steps in, "Hey, Rocket. Buddy. How's... it..." He stares at one of the big guns, "Sweet jesus, those look like they can take out a small moon." Was that a compliment? There's some wonder in there, at least, as he steps up and takes a look.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket shuffles around, scampering up a step ladder to grab a few tools from a shelf then back to the gun, "Right? Bertha's a *****in' beaut. But she's got some faulty *****in' power coils. She won't be splittin' any heads like ****in' melons - let alone crackin' open any moons till I get 'em replaced. That means whatever it is yer here ta talk me into is gonna hafta *****in' wait a ****in' while longer. Rocket ain't going till Bertha's ready."

Star-Lord has posed:
"Well, I was hoping to see if you had some small guns for the next job. Something I'd be able to use that's quiet but deadly. My usual armory has lots of big toys in it." Peter gives in semi-placation. "Sounds like you're busy, though." Peter moves to sit down, out of Rockets way.

Well, as far out of the way he can manage, in this place.

Then, he fingerguns Bertha, "What do you need? I've got a small reserve of units, and I've got a good feeling about Harafax."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket pops a cover off and sets it aside. "I need a ****in' triple core." He gestures. "'s got carbon scorchin' all 'round it. Two, three more shots and boom. Imagine a small to medium sized mushroom cloud. And me on fire. And if you ****in' giggle I might just do it right now to take you wit' me!" he sulks. He reaches in to carefully begin removing the unstable coil pack. "Don't ****in' tell me ya got onna these just layin' around, Quill. I might jus' kiss ya if ya do.. just sayin'." Then he pauses. "Quiet but deadly? Quill ya already got that. I think ya call it.. Texas Chilly Knight. Where you eat that nasty slop and then pollute the air inside the Milano for ****in' weeks? harness that an' ya'd kill every ****in' bad guy in twenty clicks!"

Star-Lord has posed:
"I don't remember complaining about your gas explosions, Rocket." Peter points out, "Still. I actually remember one of the merchants out there having one of those. They /just/ got it in." Peter points out, "We'll probably need a few guns like that on planet. Hac-Garr said the Kree have a few hideen bunkers, and that thing looks like it'd pop them right open."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket snickers. "No. You have not. That's why I'm so happy to have zinged yah back first." he chitters in satisfaction. "But yes. I've got some smaller guns even your pretty hands can easily carry." A toothy grin. "Go look in that locker. Just... count t' ten before ya open it. I ain't responsible fer what happens if ya don't."

Star-Lord has posed:
"I think I'll just... go get your triple core instead." Peter gives after he gives a concerned look at the locker, "We've only got a bit of time before the window for our contact meetup closes, so I'd like to get out us there sooner, rather than later." Peter gets up, then, and gives a wave to Rocket, "I'll be back in... half an hour? That market is a frigging maze."