[open] you were content to let me shine, that's your way.

[beatupgrass]

Who: Rocket and anyone who wanders into this hot mess
Where: Wonderland's "movie theater."
When: Various points throughout the month of March, except during events. (Catch-all)
Rating: PG-13 for Rocket's mouth, probably
Summary: Rocket doesn't always play Beat the Clock with bombs in the hedge maze or shoot things for fun... sometimes he catches up on Terran pop culture.
The Story:

ᴀ. ɢᴇɴᴇʀɪᴄ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ

We find Rocket seated comfortably in the first row of comfy couches, a bowl of trail mix situated beside him, which he keeps idly reaching his disconcertingly human-like hands into, as he stares at the scene unfolding before him with the look of someone wondering if the movie is going to actually get good if he looks away for a second.

"Bet he's still alive," he mutters, popping a pretzel in his mouth. Unsurprisingly, the killer gets to his feet, limping along and ready to have one last stab- hah- at the quirky killer. "Dippy broad. You're supposed to shoot his face in before you turn your back."

He ends up going through several horror movies and being continuously disappointed in all of them and their lame excuses for twists. He's probably even figured some out way before the ending, and isn't shy about proclaiming his theories, therefore ruining the suspense. He's a bro like that.


ʙ. ɢᴇɴᴇʀɪᴄ ꜱᴄɪ-ꜰɪ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ

If you thought watching horror movies with Rocket was annoying, then wait until you see how he gets with science fiction. Most of it is yawn-worthy to him, having lived in space. More importantly, it's horribly unrealistic. He spends most of the ones he watches flopped in one corner of the couch with his head on the armrest, rolling his eyes.

People watching with him get treated to a raccoonoid in various states of agony, running his hands over his face, muttering things like, "You can't freakin' do that, jackass. You'll burn up your d'ast engines" or "Did they hand a bunch of frickin' children laser guns? Why can't any of these people hit anything?"

But also, occasionally, he'll perk up and you get things like, "Now that's a nicely designed spacecraft. Y'all can imagine that, but you can't legitimately build it? What a waste."


ᴄ. ʙᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ

It's hard to say where Rocket was when this movie began, but right now he's in the middle of the comfy floor pillows with a blanket over his head, staring with wide eyes at the screen. He may or may not be sniffling a little bit as "Wind Beneath My Wings" starts playing.

Look, the story of an unlikely friendship withstanding the test of time and people being selfish and stupid, only for one of them to die really hits home for him. And while he's too manly to admit why it gets to him so deeply, he's not too manly to admit he can be genuinely moved by the film. God, people. He has feelings too, you know.

He definitely spent the entirety of this one engrossed entirely and threatened to shoot you if you interrupted it. Look, he's been thinking about Groot a lot lately. He was bound to find some way to deal with this.

ᴅ. ᴛɪᴛᴀɴɪᴄ

You probably stumbled upon this viewing because Rocket has spent most of it yelling at the screen, ranging from things like "YOU ARROGANT DICK" to "oh my flark- YOU CAN'T GET OUT OF THAT?" and so on and so forth. It's hard to tell whether he's pissed at this movie or worked up because he actually likes the characters and wants better for them. It's Rocket. He's difficult to read.

As it draws to an emotional climax, Rocket is tugging at his ears and looking somewhere between wanting to yell or cry. Or both. "You both could've fit on that d'asted raft! What the hell, Rose?!"


ᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ɪꜱʟᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀ. ᴍᴏʀᴇᴀᴜ

This one starts out promising. Plane crash. People duking it out for survival. Iceman from Top Gun is in it. All really great points, but as it goes on, it occurs to Rocket that maybe he should have paid a little bit closer attention to the details. At first, the strange hybrid humanoid animals and the talk of experimentation only make him tense and a little annoyed, but he manages to keep watching, if anything, out of stubbornness, growing continuously more on edge the longer it goes on. He doesn't even make it halfway, however, after a brutal scene involving bringing the Beast Folk into submission through their implants forces him to snarl and slam a hand down on the remote.

Once his fur settles, he tries to play it off. "It was boring anyway."


[OOC: ALSO AVAILABLE FOR WILDCARD OPTIONS if you'd like to force Rocket to sit through your personal favorite movie.]

Comments

[beatupgrass]

[reincarnation. there's a word. Rocket can't even freaking describe what it is that gives Groot his regenerative abilities or how they work, so it sounds as good as anything, honestly.

he flicks his ears and looks away, not really eager to show any more emotion than he already has.]

Yeah, I know. [he huffs] Like I said, not much I can do about it here except feel things about it. That might work for some people, but not me. I gotta be okay with it for now.

[directed]

Fair enough. [Rip is learning, he thinks, how to more accurately judge the expressions on Rocket’s unique face, what it means when his ears flick or fold down. If Rocket doesn’t want to be pushed Rip would easily back away from the subject. It’s how the raccoonoid has to handle what he’s been dealt, and Rip won’t begrudge him that.

The offer of sympathy has been made. It’s enough.]

Were you looking to continue your movie watching? [Perhaps with company; Rip goes to the closet, pausing to think of a title before he opens the door to retrieve a dvd.] Perhaps with company this time? Although I can’t promise anything that will tug at the heartstrings, this is considered something of a classic in the world I’m from.

[Granted, Rip’s a little biased: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is not at all an accurate portrayal of one of his favored time periods, but it has its charms regardless. He offers the choice to Rocket, in case he might be interested—be it in the movie itself, or the shifting of topic.]

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's keen eyesight locks onto the title, immediately, and his interest is piqued. the fact that it's a distraction from his stupid moment of weakness he wishes to brush off entirely now that it's done is a bonus.]

That sounds like a title I could get behind. The Good, the Bad, and The Ugly... [he chuckles] Almost a description for my entire freakin' team.

[jury's out on who the good is. sometimes all of them, sometimes none of them.]

[directed]

[Well, if he does put it like that, Rip feels fully within his rights to ask the question:]

And which of those would you say that you are?

[There's the barest hint of a grin on his lips as he puts the thought out there; just enough to show that he might be teasing.

In any case, since Rocket is amenable, Rip goes to change out the dvds. Although it's an outdated technology, he's well-versed in how the player works--meaning he's able to set it up with little hassle.]

Although to be fair, I suppose you could say the same of my team as well--provided no one person is meant to fall into any one category all the time.

[Given that none of the concepts are so rigid as people might believe.]

[beatupgrass]

Two outta three, I'd say. [he leans back against the couch cushions, smugly self-assured about which of those two-thirds he is. the "good" is subjective, but he's not a heartless merc anymore. his morals just tend to skew however he feels they should on any given day.] It's the same for mine. Nobody's all three, 'cept for maybe Drax.

[directed]

[Rocket offers but a vague answer, and in turn Rip grins as he heads back towards the couch once the movie is programmed to start. Although which of the three he means is left unspoken, perhaps that’s what makes Rocket’s reply ring true.]

Sounds like you have quite the interesting team—as do I. [He pauses for a moment, considering what categories might suit each of his comrades as he settles on an empty spot on the sofa.] I might say Mick Rory would be all three among the Legends, but he would no doubt argue at least two of the points.

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket snorts.] Drax would argue all three, but that's 'cause all he cares about is honor and vengeance. So good and bad are subjective, and [and here he drops his voice an octave to imitate Drax's cadence] "What does physical appearance have to do with anything?"

[he laughs at his own impression, slapping his leg with delight.] Damn I miss that aggressively literal hunk of muscle.

[he misses all of them. he can't say that maybe a week or two trapped on that ship with them wouldn't have torn his patience to shreds, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, apparently. Gamora and Peter have both been here and gone, and that was so long ago, he can barely remember those times or how they spent them.]

[directed]

[He huffs out a short breath—something meant to be a laugh.] I don’t even know the man and I suspect that to be a terrible impression. [It sounds like it should be. Not that Rip is going to offer up much better.]

Mick would take a different form of offense. [Rip clears his throat for this. An American accent he can do, but Mick’s voice has a particularly gravelly quality as well. Like Rocket, he purposely speaks low, trying his best to sound as if he’s speaking around a bunch of pebbles.]

“Who you callin’ ugly, English?”

[He shakes his head—that might have hurt a little to attempt (or it was just terrible and Rip doesn’t want to admit it).] Of course, I’m trusting you to keep this conversation in confidence: Mr. Rory is actually here, along with two other members of my team. [And in that Rip is fortunate; he hasn’t been brought to this place alone, as it seems Rocket has.

What he has to offer isn’t the same; Rip knows that. Yet he continues anyway:]

I’ll have to introduce you at some point. You might get on well.

[beatupgrass]

[it's a terrible impression. Rocket doesn't care, nor would Drax probably, beyond to say that he "does not sound like that." and, anyway, Rip is no better at it than he is, so he just snorts a little. someone as posh as fancy as Rip sounds should never talk like that. it's all wrong.

he deflates- only a little, but when you have a small body, any shift in it is perceptible, because there's not much to distract you from the subtleties.] I'm a charmer. I get along with everyone.

[deflect deflect deflect. it would be so much easier if he weren't a terrible liar.]

[directed]

[Rip can’t help but wonder if he should perhaps apologize when Rocket sombers. He hadn’t meant to bring an end to the raccoon’s good cheer—only to offer a different brand of company. Yet without the compatriots he so clearly misses from home, Rip suspects that brand of loneliness could only be tempered so much.

So instead he turns his eyes towards the screen; the movie would start soon.]

You certainly do have a talent for it. I tend to be the sort whom people don’t get along with much at all—and yet here we are.

[It isn’t the same as having someone from home, no. Yet Rip truly does value this odd little friendship of theirs.]

[beatupgrass]

[a snort- not really because he can't believe Rip is the sort who doesn't get along with people, but because Rocket half-expected to be called on the fact that he's actually not even remotely a people person and generally first impressions tend to go sideways fast.

as Quill pointed out, he does tend to threaten most of the people he meets. still, he's... gotten better at that. and people are a little more accepting of his brand of weird here in Wonderland.

he brushes off his brief descent into sorrow- no time for that. not when he's got movies to watch and bombs to build.] Here we are, stuck in Wonderland, watchin' Earth movies, and pretendin' we ain't slowly losin' our minds. What a way to live.

[directed]

[Well to be entirely fair, if Rip rejected people simply based on the fact that they threatened him (or even did him bodily harm), he likely wouldn't have any compatriots at all. So it's entirely possible that his definition of personable has become a bit skewed--

Yet he still considers Rocket a friend regardless.

Which is why he's content to lean back against the couch and huff out a quiet breath when Rocket so neatly sums up their situation.]

Indeed. The only thing that's missing is the alcohol. [Because honestly, a sentiment like that? Truly should be a "toast" followed by the slow burn of something rich and smooth.]

[beatupgrass]

D'ast. I knew I forgot something.

[but he's already settled and he's not getting up just to fetch beer from the closets to add to their experience.] We'll save it for next time.

[because there's something to be said about not having to take in all this "Terran culture" alone.]

wrapping here? :)

[directed]

[The age old dilemma: what is actually worth getting up off the couch for.

But like Rocket, Rip is rather content to leave it be for the moment—and to grin briefly at the promise of a next time.]