4493/You should'a seen the OTHER guy we almost brought home..

You should'a seen the OTHER guy we almost brought home..
Date of Scene:	22 May 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Lobo

---

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Tell me if you've heard this one:

An Interstellar Rockstar, a sentient talking tree that only ever says three words (but with so much emphasis and emotion!), and a four foot (and a few inches) tall talking Raccoon walk into a bar.

No? haven't heard that one? Good. 'Cause they didn't walk into the bar, they walked out. Together. Not because they wanted to but it was better than making the Security Corps regret trying to make them leave and then spending the night regretting making the Corps regret it and then regretting it all over again when Gamora bailed them out the next morning. This story contains a lot of regret.

In fact there is more regret about to come into being as our trio climb aboard the Milano and head into the common area. It is there that the story picks up once again with our hero, Rocket Raccoon handing out drinks to his erstwhile companions.

"So. How about a nice game'a cards eh?" what's the worst that could happen?

Groot has posed:
The tree, for his part, rumbles happily at the drink now in front of him. Not always interested in sipping and attenuating the effects of his preferred libations, Groot grabs up the glass and knocks back the contents in a single gulp. A few exposed leaves around the crown of his head briefly take on an orange hue. Groot hums.

At the mention of cards, he blinks and looks back and forth at the other two around the table. He spreads his leafy, vine-y hands in front of him on the table and smiles. "I am Groot," he says.

Lobo has posed:
For his part, The Main Man had been preparing that deadly chain and hook of his for another night of grisley mayhem and murder, but luckily for the Security Corps, it seemed his two new friends had a better idea, consisting of heading back to their ship, and being Groot. The inebriated Czarnian had no problems with either of these plans and now the seven foot murder machine was stood in the kitchen area of this cozy little smuggling ship. Currently busy eating some of the deep-freezed steak found in thhe storage area, Lobo was looking back and forth between the two men with heavy-lidded red eyes. In his left hand was a half-empty bottle of Shi'Ar fire whiskey, the heavy glass bottle covered in black labels.

"yknow what, yeah yer on. What's the worst that can happen, right?"

As he spoke he returned to the table, taking off that heavy black leather jacket of his and chucking it across the ship, dressed in a dark gray wifebeater and his belt and harness of various heavy-duty weapons now fully exposed. All across his right arm were a series of intricate tattoos, part of the 'sleeve' clearly half finished. But it was still impressive.

"What're we playin', geeks? Broodmother, Catch the Hawk? What are we doin'?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket nods in satisfaction. He grins at Groot's leaves. It's an impressive effect. One he'll have to investigate further another time with stronger drinks. maybe they'll go all colors at once or something cool. Add in a disco ball and... bang. Instant bank heist distraction. Yes. This is a good idea to investigate further. Later.

And for now, Rocket grabs himself a drink. Something of Quill's. Because he isn't here to defend his stash of cheap drinks.

"Pshwww..." he sighs. "We don't have a deck for Broodmother. But Quill? Yeah, Quill's got this game they play on Earth. says it's the most fun ever. Something about Bangin' the Hot Maid 'r somethin' like that.. He's godda deck'a cards. See if I can' ***in'g find 'em.."

Groot has posed:
"I am Groot?" the tree asks in some confusion. His eyes rove as he follows Rocket's searching for Quill's cards. He blinks and peers under the table... no, no one's kicked the cards (or any cards, really) under there. He sighs.

While Rocket's back is turned, Groot picks up the bottle of alcohol and looks at the label appraisingly. Lightly tugging down a leaf to look at the receding coloration, Groot chooses to dump a few splashes of the brew into his own glass. As before, he throws back the booze... and the leaf barely changes. He grumbles, looks at the label again, and thrusts it toward Lobo with a shrug. "I am Groot."

Lobo has posed:
"Nah, that junk's fer all the tourists an' weekend warriors who THINK they're tough. Ya wanna put some REAL grass on yer chest, try some of this. Burns like a mother on the way down."

As he spoke, Lobo put the half empty bottle in front of the wooden man, flashing Groot a wide wolfish grin with those healthy yellow teeth of his. This was while the furry little thing was tearing the ship apart, looking for this mysterious deck of foreign cards.

"Man I got stuff over on the Hog, ain't no need to look for no 'Erf' cards. Yanno if that 'Quill' dude is any indicantation, that backwoods mudball must be filled with pink-skinned pansies who bleed easy. I won't be surprised next week if we hear Mongul or the Skrulls knock the place over on their way ta' some planet worth carin' about."

He yelled that part, while glancing at Groot the albino-skinned murdered pulled a gun from his belt. It was a big ugly hunk of black metal, looking like it had seen better days. As Lobo talked, he showed the weapon to Groot, unloading and reloading the magazine, clicking the safety on and off. Casually waving it around at Rocket, Groot and himself without a care in the world.

"See that bad boy? That's called a Rippergun. Useful fer makin' a few dozen extra holes in someone's face. Belonged ta' some guy tried ta' waste me back in the day. Don't ask where that sorry son of a bitch is now, haw!"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket doesn't take that long to find the deck of card. "GOTT'EM!" He declares in triumph and scampers back over tot he table. He tosses the deck on the table. "See? Whad'I tell'ya. Eh? Eh? Quill's got all kind'a ****in' ***** on this barge. This game? it's not what I thought it was. It's BETTER. It's called Go Filch. See all these cards? They're numbered One ta Ass-- Ace. One ta' Ace. Ace gets high and when he gets high he goes low. So you can use his ass either as the bottom o' th' deck 'er in th' middle. 'Cause tha Queen? She's the tops. everyone knows ya don't **** wiff'a Queen unless ya want her t' hunt yet ***** down and really **** yer *******in' **** up. The king? He just ****in' useless. See? This one's stabbed hisself inna head. Talk about *****in' idiot!" And so it goes. It can only get worse.

Groot has posed:
Groot's eyes widen as he leans forward to peer into the mouth of the bottle Lobo has proffered. He blinks and shakes his head, the potent contents burning well enough on fumes alone and forcing him to squeeze his eyelids shut for a few seconds to pull up a little more moisture to re-hydrate the surfaces of his eyes. His glance shifts back and forth sideways as he carefully pushes the bottle away in Rocket's direction.

The cards look odd enough to Groot's eyes, but then, most Terran stuff does. He reaches out and spreads out the deck to look at the remainder of the deck and picks up a card with a "Q" on it that Quill has written in with the rest of his name, as well as a very amateurish try at drawing his helmet on some woman's face. Another card with a single symbol in the middle of it has been scribbled on to say, "Rocket is an Acehole." Groot listens to the brief description of the card game's rules and quirks a barky brow at Rocket. He pushes the bottle a little closer.

Lobo has posed:
Without warning, Lobo looked up and opened his mouth, eyes watering. From his mouth came an ship-shaking belch, enough to echo through the entirety of the cabin. With that done he re-adjusted the hat on his head, stroked his mustache and picked up a few of the cards almost skeptically. He looked them over, eyes narrowing and widening at the images, and it was only when he pulled a pair of purple sunglasses out of his belt and put them on, that he finally nodded in understanding with a soft 'ohhhhh!' entering the air.

"Well the rules seem clear enough. But the way I've been raised, ya always gotta play fer stakes!"

This was punctuated by fishing in the pocket of his leather pants, pulling out a small plastic credstick. Clicking a button on the side allowed a holographic visual to pop up above all of their heads, indicating that this was about 50 credits. Not a bad number.

"So put 'em up an' let's see who's a loser!"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket wasn't done with the rules.

Well hang the rules, Lobo has just all out chemical warfare with that burp. And he tossed perfectly good credits on the table.

"Right... so..." he looks at his hand and snickers. "Oh. Oh boy. Oh-boy-oh-boy. Oh. BOY." He grins as he plans. He sorts his cards around. "Dealer goes first. S' Earth rules." He pulls out a card.

"'S an Ace. He's high. Right? So that the top'a the hand. Then...." He slaps down a Joker. "This's th' guy that Bat-dude keeps catchin' and not *****in' killin' on Earth. Damn they got some really dumb-ass ideas there.. that's all I got fer this round. You guys getta play two, too."

Groot has posed:
Groot can practically feel the stomata clench as Lobo lets off that burp, and he cringes slightly as a leaf breaks off a twig near the point of his head to fall down onto the tabletop. The low rumble starting in his chest hisses into a wheeze. He shakes his head.

He cants a look at the holo display and frowns, putting the now-forgotten bottle of toxic whoknowswhat on the table next to the display with Lobo's bet. Nodding his head decisively, Groot puts down a two and a three.

Lobo has posed:
Lobo looked down at his cards, then looked up at everyone there. He got a two...and a two. In fact, he would proceed to lose every hand he got. It seemed that Lobo was a poor fishermen!