[ Rocket nods, something warm and full, like the feeling after a good meal, settling into his chest. It might be gratitude, in fact that's probably (exactly) what it is.
He doesn't want to shout or yell or provoke a fight anymore. He's tired. He wants to sleep. He wants to forget about the alternate history he could have had; he wants to focus on the here and now.
He steps into her room now, casual, like he's just looking around nonchalantly before he eventually pauses just steps away from where she is. ]
I'm — [ Rocket hesitates because moments like these ones make him deeply uncomfortable. Bad things happen when he lets people in, usually to the people in question but often to him too, and it would stand to reason that the best thing to do right now is to push every freakin' person away. Forcefully if needed.
But this place has worn down those edges ever-so-slightly, making him more accustomed to the push and pull of helping and being helped. Maybe the Guardians got to him; maybe the Avengers did. Maybe it was five years spent with the actualization of his idea of the worst possible reality that he never wants anything like that loneliness ever again; followed closely by the acceptance that as far as Abraxas is concerned he isn't going anywhere. ] I — uh. I never got a chance to tell you how glad I am that you're here. [ On Abraxas, in Solvunn. ] It ain't fair that you are, or that I am, but I'm glad anyway.
no subject
He doesn't want to shout or yell or provoke a fight anymore. He's tired. He wants to sleep. He wants to forget about the alternate history he could have had; he wants to focus on the here and now.
He steps into her room now, casual, like he's just looking around nonchalantly before he eventually pauses just steps away from where she is. ]
I'm — [ Rocket hesitates because moments like these ones make him deeply uncomfortable. Bad things happen when he lets people in, usually to the people in question but often to him too, and it would stand to reason that the best thing to do right now is to push every freakin' person away. Forcefully if needed.
But this place has worn down those edges ever-so-slightly, making him more accustomed to the push and pull of helping and being helped. Maybe the Guardians got to him; maybe the Avengers did. Maybe it was five years spent with the actualization of his idea of the worst possible reality that he never wants anything like that loneliness ever again; followed closely by the acceptance that as far as Abraxas is concerned he isn't going anywhere. ] I — uh. I never got a chance to tell you how glad I am that you're here. [ On Abraxas, in Solvunn. ] It ain't fair that you are, or that I am, but I'm glad anyway.