I'm High on Believing.

@ peter quill.

Rocket almost hissed at the word as it snapped him from a small trance, "Please, she's prettier than that."

Quietly he debated about replying right away, guessing that he'd be able to hide his lack of pants from the camera if he sat at the table (atop what, a stack of manuals or a box? something like that) rather than stood on it, only to decide that he'd do it at night when he'd finally gotten real privacy. Or sort of real privacy. Apparently a new member had joined the ship's crew, some asshole in a Nova uniform who was rambling on about a captured ship, and he knew it would only make quarters feel even closer than they already did.

"She's an otter, thank you." He eventually continued his thought as he shut down the system for the moment and meandered off to find a pair of pants, "Just because all you bipeds look the same don't mean I go around accusing everyone you of being Kree, moron."

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter ignored Rocket’s remarks and sat himself down on the bottom step which led up into the cockpit, he winced a little and smiled as Groot came over to him with a glass of water and some mild painkillers. Dumb tree or not, you could always count on Groot to 1) stop you having the good stuff and 2) from exceeding the stated dose. Happily, he accepted them, leaving Groot to amble over towards the bedroom. He cocked his head at the screen which was asking if they’d like to replay the message, delete it, or call back. “You gonna call her?” He asked, out of the corner of his eye he caught Groot returning with a pair of pants for Rocket.

@ peter quill.

With a mumbled "Thanks" Rocket took the pants from Groot with just the smallest of smiles at the thought of calling Lylla back as he did that little hop-y dance that everyone always does when they put on pants. Briskly he fluffed out and fixed the fur of his cheeks, realizing he needed a shower and cursing Gamora with the mental note to take her stuff for causing him to miss the chance of taking a proper one.

"I thought the rumor was we're going to war, soldier." He was sarcastic in his words albeit playful as he made his way around to hop up onto the table and hover his paw over the options that were displayed in anticipation.

[JUST REALIZED SOMETHING rumor has it that "Pants" in the UK refers to underwear, so, I mean, if that was the image I'm talking about...er....trousers. ]

@ The God of Mischief.

“Wel-come,” Groot replied with some difficulty. He glanced around, looking for some kind of approval but was met with a bewildered look from Peter.

“Did you teach him to talk?” Peter asked, it was still baffling him how Groot was suddenly spitting out words which weren’t I or am or Groot.

[IT DOES BUT IT’S OK I KNOW AN AMERICAN SO I KNEW WHAT YOU MEANT]

@ peter quill.

"When they're little they ain't incapable of learnin'. You just gotta grow them up right." Rocket shrugged without looking over his shoulder. "Now what the hell are we doin'? Should I call her back or wait on it?....And who's the new jackass?"

[WHY YOU GUYS HAVE TO BE SO COMPLICATED AND NOT JUST CALL IT UNDERWEAR IS BEYOND ME]

@ The God of Mischief.

[WE'RE NOT COMPLICATED YOUR COMPLICATED IT'S PANTS + TROUSERS. NOT HARD AT ALL.]

"Yes you call her back!" Peter told him. It occurred to him that Rocket might not be as experienced as he was with these kinds of things. "Unless you don't want to see her again, in which case you don't. And he's Gamora's friend, maybe you should ask her."

@ peter quill.

[UNDERWEAR AS IN WORN UNDER THE PANTS. NOT HARD THOUGH SLIGHTLY GERMAN IN LOGIC ]

There was little hesitation in his wrist as Rocket put forth and selected to reply, though he could feel his stomach begin to flutter a little in anticipation. He stood patiently, doing his best to not pace at the worry of Quill fucking everything up between them, and kept his hands behind his back while he twiddled with his thumbs. It wasn't like he exactly needed guidance but perhaps he should have asked a few preliminary, "Rhetorical" questions aloud before accepting a call-back so easily.

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter watched as the com tried to make a connection. It was taking it's time, but after a few minutes the call picked up.

Only... it was Nebula!!! Oh the emotional trauma!!

@ peter quill.

For a moment Rocket froze, his hand hovering over the option to end the call, and then he heard the muffled sounds of a struggle somewhere off of the screen. His fur bristled before he could stop it from doing so but he at least managed to suppress the growl forming in his chest. How Nebula got involved in anything revolving around Lylla was beyond him, unless of course she'd strayed too far into the air??space around Nebula's current antics: she had said she wasn't the best pilot, after all.

"Where is she?" It was a calm, cool question that exposed itself from between his teeth.

@ The God of Mischief.

Nebula didn't say anything. She just regarded Rocket, her head cocked to the left, the smallest of smiles hovering about her lips.

"Shit," Peter muttered when he saw Nebula. He pushed himself up and stumbled into the cockpit to get Gamora and Rich. "We got Nebula on the com," he informed them.

@ peter quill.

Gamora didn't so much as say a word to Rich as she slammed the ship into autopilot before running up the stairs, square into Peter's chest and then around him, to see if it was actually Nebula. And of course it was because not only are the benevolent forces just that, but they aren't liars because no one likes liars. With a slow nervous rage Rocket was pacing the table with plans almost visibly racing through his head in a cog-like fashion, she took up place somewhere behind him as she leaned in on the table top.

"Just what do you expect to accomplish with this?" Gamora's demand almost sounded more like a curious inquiry from a younger sibling than it did anything threatening.

@ The God of Mischief.

Nebula offered a non-committal shrug. “I was going to kill them but now you’re involved… Four billion units would be nice. That was the amount you wanted when you betrayed me and Ronan, yes? Enough money to get away from out father.”

@ peter quill.

"What reason have you to leave now that I'm no longer in your way?" This time Gamora's voice rung a little harder, a little colder, than what she'd originally intended and on the downside of the question Rocket overlapped her, "Where the fuck do you get off on that?"

A small sigh escaped Gamora as the pressure cracked and buckled around the room like an old iceberg about to flay into a thousand shards at any given second. The stress of having Richard around was finally dying, but four bullion units towards an unknown cause was another game completely.

@ The God of Mischief.

"Four billion units," Nebula repeated. And then, conveniently, she hung up to leave them to freak out.

@ peter quill.

Gamora didn't even bother uttering anything as she reclined halfway onto the table, uncomfortably bent face forward and uncaring, with a frustrated sigh: four billion units? That was impossible. They'd have better luck suicide diving into the front-line of things out there. She didn't even flinch when she felt Rocket take a stance on top of the middle of her back, she was too exhausted to cause a ruckus over anything at this point.

"Well what are we waiting for?" He asked almost incredulously in a rhetoric tone to the group around him.

@ The God of Mischief.

It was Peter who spoke first. Stepping up as usual, fulfilling his role as the leader of their odd little group. "We'll get her out Rocket," he said reassuringly. He moved over to the screen and started scrolling through it, looking at their route to Sanctuary II's most recent location, whilst trying to see if he could trace the signal Nebua had just given them, just to be sure she wasn't moving. "This space station, Thanos built it right?" He asked.

"Yeah..." The answer came from Rich, who'd snuck into the main room following the call. "What are you thinking, Quill?"

But Quill ignored him, he turned his attention to Gamora. "You ever been on board it?" He asked her.

@ peter quill.

It was at the sound of Rich's voice from behind her that Gamora finally found some small tidbit of motivation in the way of coming off as professional instead of as some sort of table slug that encouraged her to push her chest off of the table top and into a standing position, she was still tired as all hell but there was a new found glow of determination from her from where she leaned up against the table's edge. Her memories of the ship weren't exactly fond ones, filled mostly in the shadow and must that time brings to such memories, but she wasn't afraid of facing old ghosts, either.

"Of course." She shrugged off his question a little, slightly worried about the meaning behind it. "Why would you ask?"

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter didn’t answer her. He pulled up a blank screen, kind of like MS Paint… Okay it was MS Paint. He drew a quick, lopsided circle and wrote SANC in the centre of it before drawing a smaller circle next to it marked M. “How well do you know it?” He asked. “What are the security systems like? Are there any external hatches? Do we maybe have a map anywhere?” He was asking questions rapidly, firing them off without thinking, a plan half formulating in his mind. “Gamora, are there any external hatches?” He asked again.

@ peter quill.

"Asides from exhaust," Gamora started as she joined his side, "Here," She put a dot to an arbitrary top of the SANC circle, "Here," one to the arbitrary underbelly, "And here", the last was drawn at the tip of a triangle as she tried to somehow put it on an abstract opposite side to them.

"There's no other way to do this, hunh?" Rocket murmured as he thought around the small stockpile of weapons he'd stored up in his nest, picking and choosing which would be the best fro their situation. There wasn't much in sheer power, thanks to a certain green nag who forbade the explosion of small moons and large asteroids in the absence of entertainment, however there was plenty in the way of minor modifications that resulted in at least primed weapons. if they wanted to be stealthy about it there were silencers, if they wanted to be distracting about it there were larger, louder, bigger bangs. Their best bet, he guessed, would probably be a war on two fronts. Though the thought of putting Lylla at risk made him shudder.

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter considered then drew an arrow to the top of the SANC circle. “Rocket, me, Drax and you will sneak in here, find her and get her out. It’ll be fine and Nebula will be none the wiser. Rich, Gamora, you’ll have the Milano ready for when we exit again. Groot, you can keep an eye on the com. How long til we get there?”