Drax pulls up short, one flimsy plastic chair between him and his target. “You stop right there!”Įveryone’s surprised at the force of his voice, Peter most of all. Right now, he’s barrelled out of his chair and is on a direct collision course with the infant.ĭespite everything despite his confusion and his mistrust and his petty sense of loss, as if he’s been robbed of his right to be angry with the man who took everything from him and dared presume he’d be grateful Peter can’t let that happen. Eardrums vibrating, he drops Groot in Rocket’s lap and scrambles after Drax. Gamora maintains her stranglehold on the joystick, albeit shakily. How the hell do lungs that small project so much noise? Peter’s smarmy grin makes a dive for the agonized. “And a fine flarkin’ job you made of it!”
Rocket glares at him, shouting to be heard. Discovering itself to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces in unfamiliar colors, it promptly starts to scream. The baby, left on a pile of smelly leather in the back seat of the Milano, wakes from its nap. “So I’m the only one who did what I was supposed to.” The item which the Collector commissioned us to fetch in the first place.” “The item Rocket was supposed to be disarming, and Peter and Yondu were supposed to be steering well clear of, because it’s calibrated to affect idiots from the Silver Spiral galaxy. Possibly all of them, compressed into a single stressball. “Which you handed to him, although I told you he was too small to carry it!” Gamora’s gripping the joystick as if she’s imagining it’s one of their throats. “While I maintain that this is another of Thanos’s evil schemes, in lieu of his presence I must admit that Groot was the one to drop the item…” Really, this works out for everyone.īut for now their second-youngest needs reassurance. After that, Peter doesn’t have the mental fortitude to face the asteroid-strewn trip back to Nova-governed skies – and anyway, Gamora’s already made it clear that she’d rather be as far from their youngest passenger as possible.
Their efforts at making profit at the Ravagers’ expense had disintegrated into screams, bright lights, and mayhem. His other is occupied: massaging his temples to dispel the headache. “No, no, no, buddy!” Peter sweeps up the little tree one-handed. As the Collector’s not here to defend himself, everyone decides he’s by far the biggest culprit. Rocket blames everyone involved in this flarking mission, the Collector included. Peter blames Yondu – then changes his mind and blames Rocket instead.
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