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That's one way of putting it, yes.

What did they do to you?

It was actually really lame in retrospect. Drag you out into a frozen wasteland, dump some cold water on you when you don't answer your questions. Occasionally shoot you up with drugs that make you real pissed off.

Not gonna lie- it sucked, but it was tame for me.

Good grief, Rocket, you need to learn to lead a life in which these sorts of things are wildly infrequent.

Are you whole?

It wasn't a learned experience.
I was born into it.

[If a text message could contain lethal amounts of disdain, this one would. Like a computer virus made entirely of salt.

It takes him a second to respond after that.]

Surprisingly, yeah. You?

Yes. Scarred, but some lost limbs and fingers, so I came out rather fortunate.

Come by, if you've the energy. I'm ordered into bedrest, but I've plenty of scientific books around. And I'm certain you've something to tinker with.

I hate hospitals so I ditched early, and everyone's fussing over me at the house. If you promise to be cold and distant, I'll work my way over.

You have my word I shall be nothing but the worst sort of host towards you.

[It's not an easy trek, and it's getting harder with everything that's happened, but Rocket's special entrance through Olympia's walls has remained hidden, and so he can still get in without calling attention to himself. The only hindrance he has today is his own exhaustion, but moving helps. Moving reminds him he's still alive and he's not frozen stiff and he can run and jump and climb as good as he always has.

...All right, so maybe not that good, but good enough.

It's still several hours before he knocks on Rosalind's door, his cloak hiding his features per usual.]

[The neighbors are going to think she's becoming charitable, what with the way she's letting kids into her home. She offers him half a smile, thin and tired, and steps aside to let him. True to form, she won't ask after his injuries, but she has two eyes, she can't ignore him entirely.

She has bandages all around her torso, purple bruises around her arms and throat.]

Get in all right?

They haven't closed off my secret entrance yet. One of these days, some asshole is gonna check for weaknesses in the wall and I'm gonna be screwed, but for now, I can still squeeze through.

[He unclasps the cloak and drops it unceremoniously on the floor, because you can't teach a raccoonoid manners. He can't help but notice her bruises, because he isn't blind, and though he cringes instinctively when he sees them, he doesn't say anything. Sometimes he remembers not to be a hypocrite, at least.]

Where's the alcohol? [He's here and he's gonna damn well make himself at home since his own home is a mess of fussing and fretting.]

Edited 2018-04-02 17:53 (UTC)

How much alcohol can you drink?

[Call her curious, but she's pulling out two glasses, so clearly she's no intention of holding out. It's scotch she pulls out, because she isn't quite in the mood to burn off her tastebuds with whiskey.]

More than you'd think, but less than I plan on consuming. I'll take my chances. [He climbs up onto a chair, so he can actively reach the table.] It's been that kind of week.

It's been that kind of year.

[She pours them both a glass, generous enough, because he knows how much he can handle better than she can. Rosalind downs hers with practiced ease, because god knows she's been drinking an awful lot lately.]

God. I think I've drank more these past few days than I have since I woke.

It's amazing what random acts of violence from people you don't even wanna be around'll do to your mindset.

[He takes the glass in his little hands and takes a big swig of it. It burns in a way that makes him relax instantly- he's cold almost constantly now, and probably will be for a little while more. Alcohol definitely takes the edge off of that anyway.]

It's great how we went from divine heralds or whatever the hell they thought we were to scum. This is why I don't stay on one planet very long- it always pans out that way.

Tell me about one.

[She says it impulsively, fingers wrapping tight around her glass. Her eyes are a little glazed, her cheeks flushed.]

Your favorite, or-- or your most interesting, or what have you. But I'd be like to hear about another planet.

I don't have a favorite. [He's a bit too cynical for that.] Eh, maybe Adjufar, but there's not much to it. More the experience than the actual planet.

[Given what he knows of Rosalind, she'd prefer somewhere a little less about the atmosphere that Rocket has come to enjoy and a little more about something that actively sparks her mind.] I don't care much about Xandar, but you probably would. Place is pretty much the cultural hub of the known galaxy. They got everything there.

Plus since I saved it once, it's got a few more perks than it started out with. [a beat. a grim expression. another swig of the scotch.
Had a few more perks, anyway.

Oh, you have your little hero's badge, don't you? You can get plenty of perks now.

[Her voice is so very dry, because no amount of perks is going to make her forget why she has that stupid little broach. But ah, they won't focus on that.]

What are the natives like?

I didn't take that stupid thing. It ain't like me not to take the cash and run, but this is a pride situation.

[He doesn't want compensation for being tortured. His compensation comes when those bastards are dead, and if there's any left alive, he'll take them out and pocket any bounty money he gets. He clears his throat, however, and presses on, making it pretty clear that the "apology" money and the baubles aren't worth shit to him and that's all that needs to be said.

Besides, neither of them are here to talk about torture.]

Honestly? They're just like anybody around here. They look humanoid. You probably couldn't even pick one out of a crowd if they woke up and came down here. It's the Kree and Krylorians and the Skrulls and a bunch of others that look different. [He takes another swig.] ...Okay, not the Skrulls, 'cause they shapeshift. They can look like whatever they want.

Technically, so can I.

[Though she's not quite up to doing so just yet.]

That, however, is a gifted ability, not my own. What about the Krylorians, what are they like?

Heh. I may have to look into that... Might keep me from getting kidnapped by people I piss off. [Not that he doesn't have serious issues with having his shape messed with having been basically tortured into the one he has now, but functionality over fear and all that.]

They're pink. Like bright, bright pink. And uh... [Man what can you even say about them? Most of the ones he's met have been pretty chill. Or psychotic like the Collector's assistant.] They're not a race with a lot of backbone, to be honest. Kree are violent, racist dicks. Skrulls are violent, shady dicks.

Everyone's an asshole, basically.

You'd have to be married. It comes with some drawbacks.

[JUST SAYING, nobody wants to be married to Ardyn Izunia. She'd know. Though she huffs a laugh at his further description.]

So it isn't human nature so much as sentient nature. I admit, I'm a touch disappointed. One would hope others are more enlightened, but I suppose not.

[His lip curls back in disgust. Hah. Marriage. Good one.]

Stupidity and dickishness are terminal illnesses across the wider universe, what can I tell you?

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