I'm High on Believing.

@ peter quill.

Somewhat lightly Gamora kicked against Peter, her dreams becoming active, and snuggled into the wall. It was almost a deep feeling, one of true rest as she began to snore.

---

"Go ahead, just try not to flip us." Rocket waved Groot on and then began to fix the panel back to it's home.

Once the panel was reattached he took back to the pilot's seat and reclined, his paw grabbing hold of the seat belt just in case Groot managed to loose control. Silently he wondered what had happened to Quill, if he was still pouting or fuming, and began to notice the absence of Gamora as well. They really trusted them with this?

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter stirred, but didn’t wake up. His head was filled with all sorts of weird, shitty dreams that made no sense at all.

---

Groot threw the accelerator forwards. He wasn’t really aware of the consequences, or of whether he got into trouble. Rocket would get the blame for letting him do it after all.

Thankfully though, the Milano didn’t flip, and nobody went flying, but a quick glance at the navigation panel confirmed that their journey time would be cut in half, even if the speed wasn’t quite legal in this part of the quadrant.

@ peter quill.

Landing was something that Rocket never had managed to quite perfect; so after going through the formalities of clearance (nearly managing to not allow them permission to land, especially when trying to explain his speed of approach) he coasted, nearly plummeted, the Milano downward through a turbulent atmosphere, barely decreasing velocity enough to land rather than crash. All in all though it probably wasn't his worst: he was at least properly on a pad.

"Let's ditch this joint." He tried to hide his excitement as he powered down the Milano and hopped down from the seat, failing miserably at such.

---

The rough landing didn't even phase Gamora as she slept. Her snoring ceased as she rolled over to reposition herself against the turbulence, but irregardless she still managed to remain unconscious through it: comfortably snuggled up in the thin space between the wall and Peter.

@ The God of Mischief.

"I am Groot," came Groot's reply. He was all for ditching the Milano. He stood up and motioned with a slight jerk of his head for Rocket to lead the way.

---

The landing did wake Peter. It catapulted him from a dream about his mother, which was odd, he hadn't dreamt about her in years, not since Yondu had picked him up. Things had been different then of course, it had made sense for him to dream about his mother, he'd been caught up in the throes of grief after all. He rolled off his bunk, leaving a twisted mass of sheets behind him and moved to the window. Oh yeah, they'd landed. He checked his hair in the reflection of the window and ran a hand through it, tugging it downwards in places where it had decided to stand up. Once he was sure it was looking okay he moved over to Gamora and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly. "Time to get up. We're here and I need a drink."

@ peter quill.

With all but a hop, skip, and a jump Rocket exited the Milano before he even knew the status of the other three. Was Groot even behind him? He wasn't sure, but he knew that on a term of eventually that the adolescent sentient-tree would catch up. They were on land now, and it was a prime opportunity to teach Groot about all the important things of life. How to execute a plan, what was really worth taking, how to get away with something even if he was caught.

The city was close on the horizon, smoggy in the yellow toned sunlight and full of promise as Rocket made his way through the sparse semi-industrial zone towards it.

---

"Hunh...?"

Gamora jumped up when she realized that once more, she'd fallen asleep. This time in a bed. And wasn't Peter once in it...? She shuffled about into a sitting position and brushed herself off: at least she wasn't under the covers. Not presently.

"Right." She said as she stood, still groggy from what was apparently a heavy nap. "The Milano's....safe?"

That's when it hit her that she'd never gotten to the file, Rocket and Groot had apparently piloted them for over an hour. She cursed herself, wondering just why she'd let Groot of all people alone with the controls when she knew damn well that Rocket would join him. Even if she had been awake the chances of her actually getting to the file were slim. And now not wanting to turn Peter's offer down it was too late: she'd have to get to it later on which most likely meant spending an unnecessary night on the ship. Unless she could liquor it out of him.

"Lead the way." She gave a wry smile and tried not to look too disappointed as she settled for plan B before plan A.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot ambled after Rocket. He didn’t pay much attention to the scenery ahead of him, or to his new surroundings. All he was concerned about was not getting left behind. Rocket wasn’t the only one who wanted to have some fun now they were off the Milano.

---

“Think so,” Peter leaned down and scooped his jacket off of the floor. He shrugged it on and reached for his guns. He holstered them and turned to Gamora. “You really want to come with me?” He asked. He’d understand if Gamora wanted to hang back. Peter had no objection to handling the finding work stuff by himself, or to drinking alone, whichever one he ended up doing. Which, to be honest, would probably be the latter.

@ peter quill.
After a moment of taking in the new location Rocket turned as he scampered, "What's first?"

He figured that the best way to teach Groot new things was to let Groot choose what things to do. He was pretty sure he read it somewhere once as he dug through a book, trying to separate it's thick cover from it's spine to use as a padding against the floor while he ripped apart something or other. A test run of the theory wouldn't hurt anyone, but if he had to guide Groot into choosing what to do then he had no problem. After all, adolescents didn't always make the best decisions for themselves. He ignored the fact that as an adult he rarely did either.

---

"It'll be quicker if we both go about this, it always is." Gamora used the excuse and hoped that it didn't seem like she was already eager to be trapped on the Milano for another infinity.

She worked around Peter to go through her own small storage hold. Fortunately it had been some apparent time since her's had been rooted through. She scrambled through it a bit, moving the contents back and forth, until she found the small chest she was looking for. Taking a key from her pocket, primitive right?, she opened it with ease and pocketed the contents. Just in case.

"Are you just going to stand there?" She teased Quill with a shoulder check and made her way towards a fresh atmosphere.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot shrugged. How the hell was he meant to know he was a tree. He motioned to a nearby ATM. Rob it maybe? It made sense to learn something useful like that just in case Quill did kick them all off the Milano. Also Groot was suffering from a severe lack of credits and he sort of wanted to rectify the situation.

---

“I was waiting for you,” Peter replied dumbly. As he followed her, he pulled his headphones on and hit the play button on his Walkman. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Gamora, he’d just had the unexplained compulsion to listen to a little bit of Bowie while he looked for a nice, divey bar to blow all his credits in.

@ peter quill.

"Too open." Rocket said as he kept walking forward. "You don't wanna trigger a silent alarm or have anyone question why you're taking off th' pinpad altogether." He waved his paws about a little, swatting at a small swarm of gnat-like flies. "Ya wanna go for something just'a little more surreptitious."

He continued on, beginning to walk into the true downtown area of the city. As the crowd thickened he hoped that Groot would come to the conclusion on his own: this is how you taught things, right? More importantly though he was trying to figure out a plan that would flow seamlessly as all pickpocketing excursions should go. Not being thought of as an average humanoid was something that always held his plans back despite the fact that it could be a prime advantage of his.

---

"Of course." Gamora muttered and rolled her eyes, fixing her hair over one shoulder before she made her way out into the vastness of the planet.

The city was thinner on this side where the industrial zone bled into it like an estuary of rust. It was classic of the places Peter routed them to, a prime example. As long as it had an open sky though, Gamora was happy. Without missing a beat in the flow of the streets she ducked down into a small alley way bridged by a train-line and dipped into the small bar it advertised. Maybe they'd find work here, only that they probably wouldn't. Instead she hoped it to be a shady enough place to liquor Peter up into telling her about the contents of the file he kept: she'd be damned if she spent another night in the Milano just to study it. And if they were lucky the barkeep would rent out the less-than-perfect apartments above. She took a seat at a small table near the bar, uninterested in drinking until she managed to scope out the joint.

@ The God of Mischief.

“I am Groot,” Groot mumbled. Like what? God, what was the point in being asked what he wanted to do if it wasn’t allowed? He looked at Rocket and then pointed at a nearby pawn shop with a closed sign in the window. How about there? Surely there’d be something worth stealing in there?

---

Peter walked over to the bar and ordered him and Gamora a drink each. He motioned to the table Gamora was sat ay - their table - and gave the bartender a false name as asked for their drinks to be added to his tab. He carried the drinks back, plonked Gamora’s in front of her and flopped down into the seat beside her. He picked his glass up and necked a good half of his drink. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d needed one.

@ peter quill.

"D'ya wanna cause a scene?" The question was rhetorical as Rocket made a turn down into a subway system, crowds would be thick there. "No. You don't."

Before he made it down the first two stairs he paused, the crowd below intimidating him, and instead opted to hitch a ride off of the adolescent dendrite whom he was trying so desperately to keep calm with. The last thing he wanted was to be stepped on.

"Now, I want you to think. What's the best way to steal without being seen?" Rocket asked as he made himself at home on Groot's shoulder.

---

With a slight smirk Gamora eyed Peter in her peripheral, scarcely admiring his neck, and realized that her plan was going to be easier to execute than she had thought.

"You don't even plan on looking for work tonight, hunh?" She said as she grabbed her drink, trying to fake a slight annoyance, and reclined in her chair: it was wondrous to not have her feet pushed up against the Milano's dash.

She took a swig and went over the crowd again as to ignore Quill. It was a small one, only seven or so patrons in size, and distinctly masculine despite the dull atmosphere. They weren't likely to find work here, perhaps a lead to a different bar or alley or motel, but the chances of finding work among a crowd that wasn't close to killing itself was in her experience rare at best. Quietly she nursed at her drink and admired the foreign label as she tried her best to look disgruntled with Peter.

@ The God of Mischief.

“I am Groot,” Groot mumbled as Rocket climbed up him. He didn’t know what he wanted. And he didn’t know the answer to Rocket’s question. God, he’d never been a criminal mastermind, he’d always just followed Rocket’s lead. That was how things had worked. And this subway thing, it wasn’t natural, it was freaking him out, there were too many people and the light was all wrong. “I am Groot,” he told Rocket frankly. He’d much rather hit the pawn shop they’d seen.

---

Peter shrugged. “I didn’t say that I just… Other priorities at the minute.” He picked his drink up again and necked the other half. Fuck it, being sober just wasn’t cutting it right at the moment. He turned in his chair and motioned to the bartender, catching his eye. He’d had another one of those thanks. When he was certain the bartender caught his meaning he turned to Gamora again. “I don’t see you making any effort to look for any,” he told her pointedly, irritated at the hint of annoyance he picked up in her voice.

@ peter quill.

"Don't worry, I don't like these places either." Rocket assured Groot with a pat. "We're not going in far, we need to be able ditch out quick if we have to."

How could Groot not grasp the concept of pickpocketing? It wasn't the highest on their list of things to do but it at the very least ranked. Plus the crowds here were perfect for it, parting like a stream around them, and the gist of the population around them here seemed to be at least somewhat affluent. He could do without the smell though. They'd make this quick.

"You can stop here if you want. But, the crowds don't make you think of anything?" He really wanted Groot to get this on his own, least he blow a fuse with himself: he thought he'd been doing good raising him again, but perhaps he wasn't.

---

She sighed at him and shook her head. Had it even been five minutes? Though she was glad he didn't hail down two, at least he didn't seem set on taking her down with him. "Do you really think we'll find anything in a place like this?"

She took a chug of the bottle in her hands then and bit her tongue: she was the one who chose the dive. And if she was honest with herself, she picked it for this exact reason. Leads could always be found in a day or so, hopefully a little less, and the time spent in more than barely a hundred square meters was always appreciated. In reality though, she just didn't want him to dare her to leave in fear that her insistence on staying would lead him to other conclusions.

((Did I estimate that size right? I'm terrible with metrics in my head and it's too early to grab a pencil and actually convert. lmfao))

@ The God of Mischief.

“I am Groot,” Groot mumbled. He’d much prefer it if Rocket just spelt it out to him. He jumped as a speaker nearby crackled into life, announcing that there was some issue or the other with something. Groot wasn’t really paying all that much attention to it, he’d been distracted by a nearby busker playing a strange instrument he didn’t recognise. A smile on his face, he began to amble in that direction, he couldn’t help it, the sound was pretty.

---

When Peter’s second drink arrived, he picked it up but, instead of bombing this one, he took a small sip before he placed it on the table. He didn’t bother answering Gamora. He had a feeling she was trying to goad him, though he didn’t know why he felt like that. He’d had that feeling a lot around other people lately, he was being too sensitive for his own good, he was too touchy, too reactive. It was pathetic. He sighed. “You think this place does food?” he asked rhetorically, turning his head to look for a menu. He hadn’t eaten for at least a day now, having gotten sick of the limited food they’d had left on the Milano. He figured he should eat, the drink he’d bombed had started going to his head, things were going a tiny bit fuzzy. If he carried on like that on an empty stomach he’d be wasted in no time, and fuck knows what he’d end up doing if that happened.

@ peter quill.
Rocket was still grumpily recovering from the bump in the road that was Groot's cringe as they started meandering towards the musician. Maybe Groot did get it, stealing a donation box wasn't exactly pickpocketing but it was an easy target nonetheless. He smiled smugly to himself and decided to ghost the situation, watching to see how Groot played out the scenario and hoping he wouldn't be disappointed. Even if there was a scene chances were that the crowd wouldn't be too interested in a donation box being taken, if anything they'd just have to knock over a few civilians in their escape to the surface.

---

Gamora shrugged at Peter's question, downing the remaining three fourths of her drink in a clumsily desperate attempt to not come off as a snide bitch, and then realized why he'd ask it. Whatever this was, whatever it was brewed from, was stronger than what she was used to-- not that she normally drank to begin with. Lazily she set the bottle down on the table and began to count the numbers of cup rings that littered it with a distinct stickiness. In her head she was going over the verbal intricacies of getting the file's content out of a drunken Quill, which in itself might not be the easiest task.

"Whenever you find out, get two." She spoke, managing to continue a hint of annoyance, with a small smile to her side at Peter despite the rush that hit her behind the eyes.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot came to a stop in front of the busker and slowly, completely entranced, began to sway from side to side. He wasn’t completely slow after all, he’d spotted the box, and though a handful of petty cash wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped to find, it was better than nothing. Trying to act naturally, he mumbled to Rocket. “I am Groot?” Do I grab it?

---

Peter couldn’t see a menu, so he just shifted in his seat and motioned for one of the pretty little waitresses to come over when she had a minute. He turned his attention to his drink again, and, forgetting his prior reservations about getting too drunk, he picked it up and necked it. Whatever this stuff was, it was good, strong too. He signalled to the bartender who brought him not one, but two, and also brought over a second drink for Gamora.

“You got a menu here?” He asked the bartender. The answer was no, that they’d stopped serving food an hour ago and that the cook had gone home. “Well fuck,” he said to Gamora. He was clearly tipsy, the second drink having started to make things even fuzzier for him. He grinned at her. “Guess we’re not finding work tonight then.”

"Don't be brash, keep it casual." Rocket spoke lowly through his teeth.

Pocket change wasn't what he wanted, but for a meal it was a start. They could find something a little bigger once they'd managed to make themselves at home. Asides, if it was in a lesson for Groot he didn't mind too terribly that the payoff wasn't going to be more than a meal and a few drinks at best. Mentally he patted himself on the back, congratulating himself on the bit of maturity he had apparently acquired and ignored the size of his own ego.

---

A second? Shit. Tentatively Gamora wrapped her fingers around where the neck met the bottle's body, contemplating the contents and their consequences, and then brought it to her lips. It wasn't quite amber, it wasn't quite black, but it was warm, thick as it dropped down the back of her throat. She was unsure as to how much she had taken from the bottle when she set it's lightened load back down.

"Well, maybe that's a good thing?" She threw her head back with a small giggle and almost lost her stomach.

Surly, she couldn't have been that much of a light weight? She stood with all the grace she could muster and excused herself quietly to a small corner where a neon sign denoted a bathroom to be, her hand dragging across the back of Peter's chair for guidance for as long as it possibly could.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot ignored Rocket’s advice about being casual. He simply bent down and snatched the box up. Turning as the busker stopped playing and yelled at him, he legged it towards the stairs.

“I am Groot,” he shouted at Rocket, which translated to: was that okay?

---

Peter watched Gamora go – his gaze admittedly lingering a little too long – before he turned back to his drink. With her gone it was harder not to think about the file on the Milano. He sighed and raised his bottle to his lips as he scolded himself. Give it a fucking break, Quill. Only he couldn’t. He decided that this was one of those things that just wouldn’t go away no matter how much he wanted it to.

@ peter quill.

"Of course." Rocket grumbled as he rubbed his temples.

Why would Groot actually understand? Just because he could apparently learn words didn't mean he could think on his own, did it? Why would it? Rocket shot a quick, albeit lingering, glance over his shoulder and past Groot's neck to see a small crowd forming. Most of the were civilians, none of them actually threatening. Yet.

"Just get us outta here before the authorities start showing up, will you?" He wasn't about to spend a night contained over what was but a large handful of units, even if it meant it might educate Groot. "We're gunnah split once we see the sky again, okay? Just behave yourself and avoid anyone who looks like they want a problem. I'll find you before I eat."

---

Splashing a pitiful handful of tap water on her face Gamora cursed her luck. Judging by the contorted spin that the room had to it she was more than positive that her second drink had been laced with something other than alcohol, it was a dull enough bar-- someone probably wanted a few kicks in their evening, so why not the female? If it wasn't for the fact that the second had been simply brought over she'd kick Peter's ass without a doubt. Instead she took a few deep breaths, trying to convince herself that her previous issues were more important that mauling the bastard that decided it would be fun to spike her drink, and held onto the sink's edge for a support that verged on emotional.

She wasn't worried about being sick, she was worried about remembering. At this point would she remember anything Peter admitted to her? She could only hope. For a spinning world she was remarkably good at keeping her balance as she sauntered back out to the table where Peter sat, trying to look threatening and unaffected, his head hanging in a manner unfamiliar to her. He looked near death.

"What's wrong?" She asked almost too concerned, forgetting that she only had to care as much as what would get Quill to slice open his gut and explain his anatomy.

@ The God of Mischief.

Split? That prospect terrified Groot. He sped up the stairs, carefully weaving in and out of the crowds with an air of gracefulness he had not known he’d possessed. He shook his head furiously. No way, he couldn’t walk around the city alone.

“No,” he told Rocket, testing out another word in his newly acquired and growing vocabulary. “No, no, no.”

---

Peter didn’t look up when Gamora spoke. If he had he might have noticed how rough she herself was looking. He was too self-absorbed for his own good sometimes. Instead, his gaze trailed over to the waitress he’d spotted earlier. She was sitting on one of the stools near the bar flicking through a newspaper. He was half tempted to go seduce her, get her to take him back to her place, see if that would pull him back out of this rut he kept finding himself slipping deeper into, but he couldn’t bring himself to go over to her and initiate a conversation…

He tore his eyes from the waitress and caught Gamora’s eye for a second. He shook his head, aware that he was coming across as everything he tried hard not to be around her and the rest of the crew: pathetic, whiny, childish, weak, vulnerable.

“Look I think I might head back to the ship…” He motioned to his head with a vague wave of his hand. “I’m sorry I…” His voice trailed off. He was drunk. Stuff was about to slip out. Stuff he didn’t want to say out loud in case she mocked him. “I’m fine. You want another drink?” He was nervous, twitchy, uncomfortable, distressed. He hated it. Despised it. He really needed to grow a pair. He also really needed to sober up before he let things slip. He could feel everything dancing on the tip of his tongue.