Just what is the going rate for rescued princesses?

November 01, 2017:

Miss Rusalka Stojespal visits Groot and Rocket to find a way to pay them back for rescuing her and saving her homeland…and gets to sit in Steve Rogers' chair. Follows Rocket Hates Boats.

Triskelion hangar

One of many hangars in the Triskelion, generally reserved for the Guardians as a means of minimizing shenanigans. Slightly.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Peter Quill, Phil Coulson, Some Hot Redhead Who Steals Chairs, Sloane Albright, Steve Rogers

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

Not two hours ago, the perhaps most bizarre heist that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever witnessed within its own walls had occurred. And no one had done a thing, despite there being an entire floor of witnesses. That's most likely because they were either baffled or outright embarrassed at the time.

The two culprits hadn't even snuck in. They'd walked right through the door, strolled right down the aisle of desks and offices and then invited themselves into one Steve Rogers' office space. There's no way they were missed, considering how unique their appearances were. Several seconds later, Rocket Raccoon was perched on the custom-designed La-Z Boy computer chair, one foot on an armrest, a fist planted at his side and a hand pointing dramatically forward as his taller and wooden counterpart enthusiastically pushed their prize forward. It rolled as smoothly as butter on a hot skillet. …maybe too well as there were a few bumps and cursing before the two managed to make it out the door, leaving many confused stares in their wake and even more wondering if they hadn't enough coffee today.

Back in the hangar bay, there's a random seat lying pathetically on its back on the ground, apparently the standard installment for the quinjets. Well, not this one, since it's obviously no longer installed. The hatch to the aircraft is open and the sounds of rock music blares from within.

How was Groot supposed to know that most modern office buildings had metal thresholds that were raised a few millimeters higher than the flooring? All he thought of doing at the time was gliding the Patriotic Chair along its merry way to a newfound Freedom. At their place. No problems whatsoever.

Fortunately, the walls were made out of sturdy stuff. No dings or marks were in plain sight after such a mishap. That fell into their favor for sure.

But yes - the hangar bay is more or less lively now that Groot and Rocket are back. The tree meanders about the grounds doing…whatever it is he does in his free time, peering down at the discarded seat in passing before heading back over to his Ikea couch. For once, Netflix isn't on; the music is enough to keep him entertained while the raccoon is busying himself with new installments.

Rock and roll in the hangar bays? Okay, sure, that's kind of a typical thing if you watch any movie. But to be this loud? Cobalt-blue eyes blink in surprise as Sally Stojespal can hear the tunes through the cockpit glass. Or maybe not glass, she thinks, giving it a soft knock. Whatever kind of transparent superalloy materials make up the forward viewport, it's certainly been pretty quiet.

Oh - of course. She'd left the rear hatch open, and after gathering her tablet computer and climbing down from the cockpit chair Sally picks her way past the couple bunks in disarray, then alights from the back of the Milano, glancing around to find where the music's coming from.

The culprit is not that hard, and a slap on a control seals the ship up behind her. Dressed like the typical SHIELD agent, albeit with a more modern taste, she strides across the secure hangar to the seatless Quinjet just outside. "Excuse me!" She's speaking english, but still accented; whether they can understand her - or want to - is up to them.

And then there is a giant tree walking around. In a sudden grin, Sally waves to the alien. "Groot!" Well…that explains the music. She can't help but wonder if it's that beacon-thing they won…kept…stole…from the Racing Jam.

Their super suped up speaker? It's sitting beside Groot's couch, although currently it's not on where it can pick up the music being broadcasted from whatever player they'd cobbled together. That's…probably because they've received complaints from the 'neighbors.'

There's a lot of fumbling around with tools and things, the tinkle of metal about the only thing heard above the music. Those abruptly stop for whatever reason although the difference might not be noticeable. Of course, then Rocket comes dashing out of the hatch of the quinjet waving around a wrench.

"STOOGEPAL! What the hell're you doing in the ship! I'm sure we had that locked." His brown-red eyes narrow as he points an accusatory wrench at her. How's that for a greeting?

The safest answer: Yes.

Since he's in close proximity with the speaker-beacon, one would think Groot has raised his chances of premature hearing loss. Even if he doesn't have physical ears, he can hear things. Or maybe he's selective in his hearing.

Anyway.

He barely hears Rusalka over the current song blaring from the beacon, head bobbing away off-beat until he glances in the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's direction. With a blink, he grins, waving back. "I am Groot!"

And with timing, this is then cut off by Rocket's own 'greeting.'

Said speaker is…not in use at the moment. Well, that's a surprise, since whatever they've turned the Quinjet into has enough bass to at least take an impressive third place at the local stereo competitions. Rather than shout much more over it, she just winds her hand in a circle, as if to suggest perhaps turning it down so that people with normal speaking volumes can talk.

She can't help but laugh a little, and wave back. "<Yes,> you are." A split of Ukrainian and English, but enough for the translators to pick up. …If they know Sokovian-dialect Ukrainian yet. Of course, Groot's ont the only one with a voice that carries.

It's just that Rocket seems to have nowhere to put lungs being enough to yell that loud over the music. Stooge-pal? There's an incredulous stare given before she points a finger right back at the angry creature. "SHTOY-YES-PAHL. Like that. Can say it properly, yes?" Hmpf. "And yes, it was. Remember, it is in SHIELD protection, and I am part of SHIELD? Engineer. I am cleared for it," she…sort of lies.

"If you must know," she adds, still yelling somewhat over the music, "I was examining the flight controls - making sure that all is well. It is not as if we have a service station for such a thing everywhere!" That and she'd wanted to try out her translation of the user's manual she'd found aboard the ship last time - namely, how she got aboard.

Her arms fold at Rocket's last word. "Locked? Hah, that hatch has not been proper locked. Probably ever."

Rocket has an impressive range in volume. But since yelling at each other is going to get tedious pretty quick, he grumbles, pulling something out of his pocket and sliding a clawed finger down the screen, the blaring music toning down within more reasonable levels. Shoving the thing back in his pocket, he reclaims his wrench which he'd tucked under an arm to once again point back at the woman.

"-no, you are not because it's just being parked there. If you go blasting a hole through the wall by hitting something you're not supposed to, then how're you gonna explain that to Deadeye? TWO-" Rocket, you didn't even say 'One' - "There's no need to look at the flight controls because we already handle that! And FOUR- no, three," he pauses, making a quick flick through his fingers. "-it's always locked if we're not sittin' up in it so we don't have no one poking their nose around where it don't belong!"

He pauses, letting the wrench lower so he can lean on it like it's suddenly some fancy cane. There's a toothy grin to boot. Uh-oh. He looks smug. That's not a good sign.

"Also the thing ain't been cleaned in…ever so I guarantee that there's all manner of alien bacteria just about everywhere on the ship and if you walked under a black light you'd be glowing like a Christmas tree."

While the response is a bit puzzling, Groot accepts it. Maybe he figures there will only be more confusion if he tries to explain it. Also, there's just something amusing about how each person decides to translate what he's saying.

As the music fades into a more tolerable level of noise, the tree tilts his head in disappointment. Well, it does save the other two some energy; yelling back and forth in a large space full of background noise is tiring. So he sits, black eyes lazily darting between Sally and Rocket as they both make their claims on what's what and what should or shouldn't be crossed.

He does, however, make a slight face at that last comment. "I am Groot," he nods sagely as he confirms the thing about how gross the Milano is on the inside. That's mostly Starlord's fault, though.

At least he's not arguing names. Good, he's accepted the lesson. Then the wrench comes back out, and the argument's back on. "Just being parked - between flights - between uses. And given a maintenance examination!" Thin ice here, since…she's not entirely sure that counts. So double down. "It is like a quinjet. Very advanced, very complicated, very high technology. Easy for…" She eyes the seat lying on the hangar floor askance. "A component to malfunction and need to be replaced?"

Like the one that Rocket just replaced.

"I am not a fool, and I am a little more comfortable with such things than you might think! Just because - no." She swallows that line down, then stares at the little weaponsmaster with her arms crossed. "Locking procedure. Secure hatch. Lift and rotate D clamp 180 degrees. Secure clamp flush with hatch, wait for clunk. Yes?" One manicured eyebrow raises, challenging him.

And then his smug turns to her - and Groot somehow confirms it. Sally glances back at the tree-alien, seeing his expression, and sneering in distaste. "No wonder he is not here." Then she glances back at Rocket, and her expression turns downright feral. Almost like a wolf staring down a snack…and she takes one step to her side. Enough for Rocket to see the hazmat suit wadded up in the dumpster…along with…

…cleaning products. "I told you. I understand high performance. Machines like that are beautiful things and deserve…better." In fairness, they are mostly talking about Quill.

Nodding at Groot, Rocket grins over at his buddy before looking back at Sally. "Nnnope, that wasn't part of the deal. Coulson said nothing about maintenance." He's invoking Phil Coulson by his true name, watch out.

"And uh. Yeah, it's very advanced and high tech and all that crap because it's a spacecraft." Casually flinging the wrench aside so that it goes clanging rather loudly off in the direction of a tool box, Rocket starts towards her. "We haven't gone and done any crazy stuff in the Milano since the race. She's in prime condition and if anything-" he does the aerial quotes- "'Malfunctions', then it's because you tampered with something you shouldn't have. BECAUSE YOU SHOULDN'T BE IN THE STINKIN' SHIP!"

Even with Sally turning a glare back at him, the smallest Guardian doesn't back down. He does flick a look towards the dumpster, snorting. "Oh, well that just proves you're insane, lady."

Groot doesn't remember anything of the sort either, arching his wooden brow at the agent and the amount of cleaning supplies she's brought with her. While impressed at how prepared she was in tackling the sanitation issue, there's still the issue of her being on the Milano when none of them were present at the time.

Clearly, Rocket has that down pat. He always makes his point in the plainest sense.

As the uncertain expression stays on his gnarled face, Groot takes a moment to stare over at the Milano while the 'conversation' continues. "I am Groot…"

Sally lets her eyes narrow slightly, at least to take away the momentary gulp of nervousness as a certain Agent is mentioned. Well. It's actually a sign of concession, in some ways, when Rocket throws the wrench aside and launches off into his tirade, that she doesn't actually snap right back.

Instead, she just takes it, standing with her arms crossed - before dropping them to the sides. Groot chimes in, and she can't help but feel like he's agreeing with Rocket - and there's a long, deep breath taken before Rusalka finally speaks.

"Very well. I apologize, personally and fully, for my actions, Rocket. Groot." Not Yenotchka, whatever that meant before. "I…admit that yes, the Milano is in prime condition and you do a magnificent job of maintaining him." Maintaining yes. Cleaning, no. Blame Quill. Her efforts earlier certainly proved that.

And then she squats down, resting on her toes, and staring eye to eye with Rocket. It's not a domination thing, but simply a straight evening of the field between them. "Very well. I will not do that again. And I swear there will be no malfunctions. The truth is that I…owe you both - three - a debt, twice over. I wanted to…do something. And became distracted."

Yeah, she's letting it all out on the line, but there's a seriousness in her voice that wasn't there before. A noble tone, direct and to the point. "I had not had a chance to thank you before, for what you did over Sokovia. And…just recently, myself again. The boat chase. You have saved my life, and you have saved that of my family and my people. This is not an easy thing for me to…to know what to do."

Tapping his fingers against his folded arms, Rocket waits to see what more Sally has to say about things. He's mildly surprised that she doesn't add on, even more so surprised that she offers an apology. It helps to dissipate his temperament levels a bit more as he sighs, shaking his head, although not in response to the apology offered.

"You don't get it, Stoo- …Stoy-s-pal," he actually has to think about it as he says it because his mouth has to move all these weird directions. "Anyway. It's not just a ship. It's like our home. And you just waltzed right into it acting like you own the place. How'd you like it if we did that to where you live?"

For three little words, they tend to bear weight when it matters the most. It sums up the sentiment shared with Rocket - one that is more restrained, yet still concerned about what happened.

There isn't much they can do about it now, but to see Rusalka apologize for her course of action is different from how it can normally go between parties. In fact, it's better than it could have gone.

Groot is definitely fine with how it plays out, but he does nod again as the raccoon creature explains (actually explains and not argue his point) the situation further for some clarification.

Rusalka nods quietly, though still meeting his eyes. She also glances up to meet Groot as well, since he too shares the home of the Milano. "I have trespassed upon your home, and I can only beg your forgiveness. I swear upon my family name that it shall never happen again. Rocket. Groot."

Honor Unyielding. Even in the face of shame and embarrassment for what she'd done, she is still a Stojespal in the end. As much as she'd tried to set a new course, to define her life her own way, it just keeps coming back and locking her up. So be it. She remains before them, a girl learning a lesson - and an important one, just from an unexpected teacher.

"It is, as you said, your home. I may not be the titled baroness, and I hope not to be for a long time, but I understand what that means. How much that means." There's a slight cough and a choked sort of snort of amusement that immediately follows it, which gets a hand waved. "Ah…that is, my current home…is a girls-only dorm in college. If you were to show up there…well."

The shrieking over the cute little talking raccoon would be deafening, and Rocket might not make it out of there.

"But I do extend a hand…and a home. I will not always be where I am now, and…you have, as I said, saved my life and my homeland. Wherever I am, that place will always be welcome to you. Both. Three, really." But Quill's not here to hear the offer. "I meant to ask, I suppose…what is it, then, that I can do to repay you for your actions?"

Like, she thinks with a glance, maybe doing something about that chair lying on the floor in the quinjet, and seeing what to do to fix it?

There are things that Rocket takes very seriously. A lot of the time people don't realize he's being serious, and sometimes when he sounds serious he's not really sincere. But having a place to call home, even if it is a smelly, questionably clean starship, is important to him. It's the place their weird little modge-podge family can return to, and everything's where it needs to be, even if there might be a loose panel or some weird goop growing in the back of the fridge.

It takes him a moment to remember what all she's talking about. He might not have connected the dots as to where they'd been fighting in that accidentally unmanned Quinjet. "Oh. Uh. Well, usually people just thank and pay us and we're good," he says, shrugging. He doesn't even seem to give the chair she glances towards much thought nor attention.

He can tell Rusalka is being sincere. Not many people swear upon their family name, after all. The least they can do is forgive her of the minor crime. Learning experience and all. With a small smile, a large tree hand lifts up to rest upon the young woman's shoulder. "I am Groot."

As for the bit about being repaid, Groot tilts his head, allowing his gaze to drift back over in Rocket's direction. "I am Groot." Because he's also familiar with getting paid and everything's good. That is how they survive out there in the black. Good times.

Well…at least, for the moment, the starship's more than questionably clean. Granted, it probably won't take long to be back to normal, but she understands the desire for home.

The touch on her shoulder gets her attention, and Rusalka slides her eyes up to meet Groot - and smiles. "Thank you, then. Groot." A deferential nod, before looking back straight at Rocket, then standing. "Well. Thanks you are both given, then, though…pay seems too simple. Stojespal is an old name, almost as old as the Foundation of the World. We do things…perhaps a little less simply."

With that she'll walk over to the chair, and heave it back upright. "I could, at least, assist with what you are working on now, right? Your wrench. Three-fourths inch, one hundred pound torque setting?" Yeah, she saw it and knew what it was that quickly. "Absolutely what are you two doing-"

…Yeah, she just saw inside.

"I dunno, I'm perfectly fine with simple things like getting paid. You can do lots of stuff with money," Rocket says, rubbing his fingers together meaningfully in that age old gesture for cold hard cash.

He turns to watch as she goes to fix the chair, shrugging almost dismissively as she mentions the particulars of the wrench. "Ain't assistin' simpler than paying? That's more like an insult to my capabilities! I got this," he says as he starts back up the ramp of the Quinjet.

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm upgrading."

Groot lets his hand lift and draw back toward him as Sal goes to see what his little friend has been doing with the quinjet and its related abandoned seat, absently mimicking the money finger-rubbing gesture as he looks on. Having cash in the hand is a nice feeling.

And as soon as Rocket follows her up the ramp of the quinjet, Groot is left standing there by himself. Although he doesn't mind it, he does wander after them, cranning his neck and posture to look up the way before heading in to join them.

Sally just snorts as Rocket rubs his fingers together. Such a nekulturny gesture, but she can't blame him. "I would suppose I should ask what the going rate for such rescues are. After all, if there is an economy of such things…"

And then she just…says nothing, joined by Rocket and eventually Groot. Staring. She's seen that chair once before, in the office when she'd reported to Captain Rogers on the results of her weapons training. There aren't replicas.

"Nechitkyy dyyavol." If the translator's on its game, it'll get 'fuzzy devil' out of that. It's said in a mixture of awe and disbelief, mostly at the insane audacity of what they'd just done. And, she realizes, in just what Rocket had spent time chewing her out for.

Sally just turns this incredulous look on the raccoon, blue eyes wide in sheer amazement. "Waltzed right in, you said…and out?! With that?" The fact that the entire base isn't on lockdown and some kind of tactical alert is honestly the most confusing thing. Maybe Captain Rogers isn't in today…

And then she realizes she's got the little thief by the striped tail. "Absolutely I do not insult your capabilities…but I certainly might think…Coulson said nothing about furniture." The ball's back in your court, Rocket. And then she stares at Groot. How could you!

Rocket supposes he's heard stranger things out of alien mouths. Although technically Sally's an alien too. He strolls on into the jet and hops onto the chair, spinning around as he folds his arms behind his head. It doesn't seem like he's the least bit remorseful for what he's done, but then he doesn't feel that an office equals a house. And if it did, then that's just sad.

"Oh yeah. They practically gave it away," he says, waving a hand. "And anyway, I'm not the first one who took the thing. That hot redhead tried first, but she just didn't know how to keep it." He pauses. "And to be fair, I did inform the Captain though, so we're good."

A short, gruff laugh rouses from the hollow of Groot's torso as he briefly relives the chair-stealing moment, almost clapping his hands together in amusement. He does remember Rocket mentioning a hot redhead in the relayed story, but he just really liked the idea of Captain America owning this kind of chair in the first place. It's amazing. Now that the chair's in their possession, he can't take his eyes off of it.

Meeting Sal's incredulous staring, Groot only shrugs. "I am Groot," is all he has to offer, echoing the tone of 'fair game' or something to that extent.

Sally reaches out with one foot as Rocket spins in the chair, stopping it from moving and keeping it - and him - facing her. "You talk too fast." Hot redhead? She's got no clue, but in fairness she can say she's not yet run afoul of the Black Widow. In this case, whether it's good or bad is pretty much an even coin flip.

"You talk much faster now than when you were serious earlier. So you did inform him? When?" That stare is quite serious. Even as Groot can't help but remember the rather epic prank, she can't help but sense there's no real malice involved. And…no, there's no way Captain Rogers would permit it. She's sure of that, at least because she's sure that Coulson would be sure of it.

"So. You like chairs. And you, Groot?" Well, they did only steal one. Though he did have the couch outside already…from…somewhere. She's not going to ask. With her luck it's probably Director Fury's.

"I talk reg'lar speed," Rocket counters, and to be fair, it's quite normal for him in any case. He makes a bit of a face when his spinning is stopped, but slips a hand from behind his head to do some aerial calculations with a finger. "Eeeh, a couple'a weeks ago, about." He sounds absolutely sincere about this, strangely enough, but to be fair he did bring up several points during the encounter they had then.

Groot has to think about his answer. As he places a gnarled finger against the side of his face, there's a squint, one that's all too quick as he points down the ramp toward the couch he was sitting on earlier. "I am Groot," he replies, obviously partial in the way he says it. "I am Groot. I am? Groot."

That is basically the add-on of how they came to acquire the couch, but yeah. Grootspeak. Language barrier.

Her foot remains where it is, holding the little rascal from spinning around again. "Ah. I suppose, he is receiving a new one, and…let you have his old one? A gift for a fan?" Eyebrow. She knows precisely how much Coulson himself would kill for this chair. And quite possibly who.

She drops it, finally, when Groot chimes in. Pointing back to the couch, explaining…somehow. Yeah, it probably is from Director Fury's office. She'll just shake her head and raise one hand. "It's alright, Groot. Enjoy your couch." There. One problem solved.

"I suppose, perhaps, it is…little strange," she adds, that accent still throwing off the occaisional word. "But I will report to Agent Coulson that Captain Rogers' chair has been disposed of properly. He is…very respectful of the good Captain." And is their parole officer, though Sally managed not to know that little detail. Yet.

Reaching out, she toes the control under the chair to drop it down and throw Rocket off his game a little. "Or perhaps…as payment for services rendered in rescuing me, something…comfortable. Fitted to you. After all, you would not want someone else to steal your special chair. Custom made, and…very expensive."

"Honestly I think the red white an' blue's a little over the top but eh. It's still super comfy." The Guardian wiggles his butt around in the seat as though to make a point.

As Groot mentions their trip to IKEA- a different trip, not the one where they fought assassins with the Winter Soldier- Rocket nods along. "Oh yeah. We've had that one since we got here." To the Trisket. Because they weren't going to move the first couch they'd gotten from back at Zee's. Too much trouble.

The chair suddenly sinks, the jerk making Rocket brace himself against the armrests before glaring a bit at Sally. "I don't see why Deadeye'd care about the chair- it's not his. Also, he didn't say nothin' to the redhead when she took it, so I think my point has been made." In any case, he doesn't seem to be at all concerned that Sally means to tattle on him to Coulson. Why should he be?

"Nah, I like this one. And Captain A said himself that he had problems with this thing cuz the company's named after being slothful. Which is kinda ridiculous, really- is he always like that?"

This is how the logic works: having multiple chairs wherever they go is much more practical than dragging and moving them from location to location. One couch here, one couch there. Chairs are extra. Groot feels like it works well, happy enough to here Sal's halfhearted and somewhat resigned response.

(To be honest, they seem to get that a lot.)

"I am Groot?" he adds shortly after Rocket's claim on the pilfered chair. It's more of a guess on why the company name references laziness, one that may have to do with the chair's style. He's not really sure.

She's not entirely sure she's being snookered - but at this point, the little raccoon has enough of a lock on his story that she's not going to poke a hole in it, or else…well. Maybe he really did give it to her. Especially with the slothful name. And the previous borrowing from some redhead.

And then she laughs. "Ah…yes, y-yes he is. Does the term…molodyy pilotnykyi, ah…right yes. Boy Scout. He is a very virtuous man and…I would say he does not betray his beliefs. I respect that."

If she could truly understand the logic, she'd agree. It's just that translation issue between them. But the idea of not having to carry your furniture around all the time, certainly has merit. As to his question at the end, Sally shrugs - though she's suspecting he's offering a thought on the Captain rather than the chair.

"So…" Sally looks over the chair, and its occupant. "May I try? I might want to order one myself…" If it's anywhere nearly as comfortable as what Rocket thinks, well. If given permission, and an empty seat, she'll gingerly lower herself down into the maybe-not-quite-so-ill-gotten-gains.

Rocket's completely bought into his own story, but then he fully believes he's in the right of all this. He's not trying to be sneaky about things at all because personally he doesn't feel he's done anything wrong, and Steve Rogers' chair was fair game.

"Boy scout… That sounds familiar. They the ones that sell the cookies?" Of course he'd remember cookies.

"Eh, I guess that could be," he replies to Groot, shrugging. "I don't understand Terran reasoning sometimes." He looks at Sally and then hops off of the chair so she can give it a spin, per se.

Groot also shrugs. Neither of them know for sure, but it /must/ run along those lines. Those kooky Terrans and their brand naming.

"I am Groot," comes another reply in regards to the Boy scout comment, even if the original question wasn't thrown in his direction. Because he's very sure Boy Scouts sell delicious cookies.

Whatever story Rocket has, at this point Sally will take it. He's had a lot more years to sharpen his BS skills than she has, even if she's not entirely buying his story. Well. She doesn't have to report him to Coulson…not yet. At least not until she gets a try herself. Besides, she owes him that much at least, even if that's a big enough benefit of the doubt to be its own charity event.

The opportunity, of course, she takes, settling into the chair with legs crossed - and realizing just how much she doesn't fit Rogers' body shape. Well. Certainly it's very well made, and sturdy. But…maybe just a little too firm for her; Papa Bear's Chair isn't quite the right one.

Sally stands once more, checking her tablet. "I must be going, I apologize. There are other things I must take care of, but. Once again, I am truly sorry for what I did aboard - within your home. And…" She swallows nervously, then drops to her knees and reaches around Rocket in a sudden hug that, for his dignity, is released quickly. Groot, of course, immediately recieves one as well.

"Thank you…again, both of you. I will find you a suitable reward, and I stand by my vow previously. My home will always be open to you, no matter what."

And then there's a pause. "That…beacon, the musical device from the space-race. You do not think…a friend of mine could borrow that, could you? She is a musician, and would truly love to see it."

Rocket's eyeing her, perhaps in that cautious way in suspect of her possibly deciding she might actually want the chair more than him. Fat chance, that. But she doesn't remain seated long, and she's up again and once more apologizing- really, she'd already gotten that point across. How many more times was she going to repeat it?

He shakes his head, waving a hand at her to further dismiss the issue because in his mind, they're square….although it'd be nice to get paid by somethingsomething monetary value here. When Sally stoops down to hug him, he goes rigid a moment, startled since this is not a thing that voluntarily happens to him on Terra very much. "Uh. Yeah. Sure. Yer welcome and all that," he says, recovering with impressive speed. Perhaps there's hope for getting paid off.

"…borrow? Wh- oh, that thingy. Yeah, sure. It's just sittin' out there, she can see any time."

Unlike Rocket, Groot is pleasantly surprised by the hugging. He returns the favor, giving Sal a good tree squeeze before letting go again. "I am Groot," he grins, happy to hear that they had an invite to her place.

Invites means it's not trespassing. That's a good deal!

With a low chuckle, the bipedal tree then turns to make his way down the ramp. He obviously has some plans of his own to finally get to, and it most likely involves binge-watching some more movies.

"I will bring her to see it then." Fortunately Rocket's spared from further startles, or for that matter further apologies. The situation is done and handled, even as much as it meant to her. "Hm…you three, you do…have somewhere to stay, not here, yes?" It isn't as if they're that hard to see, yet when the Guardians aren't visible most days of the month…clearly they're somewhere else.

She gives a soft oof as Groot returns the hug, then watches as he leaves to go find a movie. Ideas begin to swirl, but she has to verify things first. "Roketa…is there a chance I might come visit you all soon? Perhaps with my friend, since you enjoy the same kind of music." And so that Sally can get a start on paying off that debt.

CASH. THEY WANT CASH.

"Eh? Oh, yeah. We got a few places. And I hear Atli's managed to get a house from Deadeye." A frikkin' house. Clearly her powers of negotiating for compensation are superior to Steve Rogers.

Rocket's already waving her off when she pauses and speaks up again. His ear perks and he glances over again. "Sure. There's a good chance we'll be around." Unless they aren't. Right now he's still not sold on the idea that this chair is suitable for the Quinjet. Well, Atli did say something about needing furniture…

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