4374/The Weaponsmith

The Weaponsmith
Date of Scene:	01 May 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Gamora, Rocket Raccoon

---

Gamora has posed:
Gamora was moving through the busy streets and pathways on Knowhere with her black hood up over her head and her violet hair peaking out on either sides of her green skinned face that was shrouded with shadow.

She'd been headed to a specific location, Rocket's shop / home / Raccoon Bachelor Pad.

The Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy keys the door open and steps through it after it slides ajar. She steps inside to see a couple of other customers waiting to pick up their orders. They likely brought some guns in to have Rocket repair them or modify them to be even MORE deadly, cause thats what people out here want... weapons to melt faces.

Gams steps in, shares glances with the two and just stays near the back of the front room, watching for now.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket has his back to the door, muttering - or humming - to himself while he works on an item atop a workbench.. It sounds pretty much the same either way. After a few seconds he turns and looks to the taller of the two original customers. "Aright. There's yer *****in' gun back. Next time, remember: Safety off. THEN charge the cell. Do it backwards and yer prolly gonna lose that spindly think you call a hand - and DON'T blame me for it. I told ya this'd be dangerous."

He looks to the shorter one. "You gonna *****in' buy somethin' 'r just stand there an' gawk while your buddy up-guns hisself?" As he is greeted with a headshake, he snorts. "Well that's just ******in' great. G'on. Both'a ya's get outtahere before that thing kills us all."

Gamora has posed:
Throughout all of this, Gamora just stands there behind them all and raises her arms up to cross them over her leather clad stomach. She has a black leather jacket on, unzipped, and a dark purple mesh shirt on beneath it, some black leather pants and of course her utility belt with weapons and gadgets galore.

Once the two of the customers pay and stumble out of the Home/Business, Gamora just uncrosses her arms and steps forward. "I've come to get my pistols repaired." She tells him. "And if you treat me like that then I'm going to have to test the repairs on your fuzzy hide."

Her hood is dropped back with a quick swipe of her left hand and she then unholsters her guns and sets them down on the nearest table. "You've got the parts for these, or you should... since I stored them here."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket looks at Gamora as the two losers exit. "Of all the classy joints in this rotten town... SHE had ta darken MY *****in' door.." He grins toothily at her. "Casablanca. Some lame-ass movie Quill made me watch. Loosely paraphrased."

He then walks over, "Gams. Gams. Gamora. When have I -ever- talked ta you like that? I *****in' LIKE you. You're tall.... Easy on th' eyes.... /great/ legs..." he notes as he ticks these valid reasons off on his fingers. "And you can put any sized round you want through the eye of a needle at five miles. Or. Y'know. Just stab things to death 'r till they stop bleedin'."

Gamora has posed:
Gamora tinkers with the blasters on the table a little bit while Rocket goes on, she shows a faint smirk because she'd been there when Quill watched the movie with everyone else. "I was watching it with you, you were drunk, I believe." She softly says before turning the guns around and sliding them to the center of the table.

Gamora then steps away from the table and walks toward a counter where Rocket has some drinks setup inside of a large refridgeration container. She pops the door open and grabs one, a drink the same color purple as the tips of her long locks of hair.

She looks back over to him as she unravels the top off of the exotically shaped bottle. "I'm glad you remember at least how easy it is for me to kill anyone that I dislike." She says to him with a little grin before she sips from the bottle and turns to face him then.

"Can you fix them tonight?" She asks, glancing back to her guns. "I don't like walking around this place without them."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket mutters. "Drunk. And I still remember that ****'ing movie - 'Here's lookin' at you, kid'.... what does that even mean, anyway? Human movies are just... dumb." He scitters over and looks at the guns. "Pff. you don't like me. I'm just not worth the cost of the ammo you'd use to put me down" he retorts. "I'm like a *****in' 'roach. Takes a lot t' come close t' killin' ME" he boasts. It's not even close to true of course. But hey. A raccoon has to feel good about hisself now and again too.

"Tonight? Ppfft yeahright. I'd like to win the *****in' deathball lottery an' spend the night with fifty hot chicks fawnin' over me. An' THAT ain' happenin' either.." He looks at the guns, picking one up to inspect closely.

"Y'know what would help ol' Rocket get these fixed a bit faster....." his voice belies the scheme he's cooking up in his sketchy thought processes. "My shoulders're really... stiff. If I got a back - and neck - massage... I could get these done at least... two, three hours quicker..."

Gamora has posed:
Gamora's right foot extends out a bit to her side there as she stares down at the Raccoon inspecting her guns. She crosses her arms again over her stomach and just glares killer daggers down at him. "I suppose that I could go track those two men down from outside who you just cursed at until they ran away... offer them some extra credits if it means that my side arms are done faster."

Gamora shows Racket the glint of a grin. "There were two of them afterall, I believe they were Kissians too. Means they have stronger hands than most. Perhaps one of them would massage your feet too?"

The deadly woman then turns about to moves toward the set of chairs in the room, she perches herself down on the arm of one and takes another drink from that bottle she nabbed from his freezer. "I like Human movies, it was one of the only things I enjoyed when we visited their otherwise uncomfortable world."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket's ears slup. "Yeah. Figures. -Every-one wants ol' Rocket when they need a weapon. No one wants ta show Rocket any love in return." He's already working on the guns however.

Swiftly he has both of them disassembled and he pulls out a case. "Her Majesty's Royal Parts Box" he says with exaggeration. Opening it, he takes out the new components and begins putting the weapons back together.

He snorts. "Sure. They were okay. But c'mon. That Wars of the Stars flick? That was so stupid. I mean c'mon. EVERYONE knows there's no sounds in space - IT'S A FECKIN' VACCUUM!! C'mon People!"

Gamora has posed:
Gamora sips her drink while watching the Raccoon do his work. She smirks at his words. "Do not go and play the 'poor Rocket' card with me." She responds to him in a calm voice. "I have seen you stumbling around this wretched place with different women on your arms, some of them of a species I cannot even identify. Your 'love meter' is rather full, if I had to wager."

Another sip and then the bottle is set down atop her right knee. "You know how Humans are. They have worse attention spans than a box of Dzelian Puppies. You have to put the sounds into space, so that their wandering little minds stay glued to the screen. To coax reactions out of them, so they have a good time and then pay you for your merchandise. Why do you think Peter owns so many Star Wars shirts and..." She mutters a curse word. "'Action Dolls'."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket answers the last question first as he snaps the new chamber into one of the pistols. "because he likes to pretend his is makin' out with yers - kissy-kissy-smoochy." He makes the kissy noises and snickers.

"Hey. I feel like everyone else does. Like you. I got needs. I got loneliness ta fill. I do what I gotta. And c'mon... -you- are gonna judge -my- taste in company? I've seen who you come home with a time 'r two myself. Yeesh. Beer Goggles. More like ... ****in' blinders!"

Gamora has posed:
Gamora looks away from the Raccoon with the foul mouth and rolls her eyes while doing so. "Oh please." She replies, mild annoyance on her voice. Though she is fairly easily annoyed. "I've never brought anyone back to the Milano for the purpose of fornication. If I've brought anyone back to the ship then it was for business purposes. Establishing contacts, setting up jobs... or trying to get one of you out of a jail cell."

"And Peter does not have any action dolls that are the shape and color of me." She raises her drink up to her lips and pauses before sipping. "None that I have seen. I don't root around in any of your cabinets. For fear of requiring a brain cleaning."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket snorts again as she gets defensive. But he doesn't push it. He's a danger magnet and a thrill seeker. But even he isn't about to anger Lady Death (not that one). That'd just be foolish.

He turns and spins the two pistols like some Earther cowboy then spins and fires both pistols, shattering two empty beer bottles in the corner some thirty feet away.

"There ya go, yer majesty.. two perfectly handlin' totally upgraded murderizers." He spins them around and flips the handles towards Gamora, offering the weapons to her. "And jus' 'cause yer so sweet an' lovin' t' me? No charge."

Gamora has posed:
Gamora's eyes go up when she sees him raise the guns up and fire them off. She hadn't expected him to fix them so quickly, but thats why she'd brought them to him to begin with, right? She could do the work herself, but Rocket was an ace at it... one of the reasons he was even in their crew!

When he brings them over she sets the bottle down beside her and then stands up and accepts them, one in either hand she looks them over and then nods approvingly. "You do good work, even if your mouth is all pure rubbish."

Gamora grins down at him and then spins the blasters herself before tucking them into her thigh holsters once more and sitting back down to reach for her drink again. "I buy you foodstuffs and parts, if you charged me I might burn this place down." And she's grinning a little again and sipping from the bottle.