[ Peter holds up both hands in a placating gesture, the tape of Kree disco-tech held between two fingers of his left hand. ]
Dude. Captain. [ Peter’s like 85% sure that’s the guy’s title, anyway. He kind of only recognizes the other guy by the look of him, knows him as a familiar face. Peter and the others usually report elsewhere. ] Cap. Okay. You’ve seriously gotta unclench.
[ ... which is probably not the best way to defuse the situation; telling angry people to calm down generally has the opposite effect, in Peter’s experience, but it’s a knee-jerk response. His expression doesn’t quite harden, but it does tighten up a little at the edges – in the line of his jaw, the set of his eyes – because there are quite a few things Peter needs to straighten out, here.
But first, Peter turns away, casting around in the small space of his bunk, and he finds what he’s looking for on the surface of his workspace, nestled among tools and a few devices he’s been meaning to fix up. A bit of tension drains from his frame, eased away on a sigh of relief, and he plucks it up carefully. ]
First of all, bro, it was a prank. [ And he jabs a finger in the general direction of the offending party; by now, Rocket’s cackling has died down to those weird, hissing snickers, but it’s still audible, even from here. Peter raises his voice a little, hoping it’ll carry down to Rocket. ] A prank by a seriously unfunny dickmunch who’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him.
And second of all— [ He returns to his inside voice, holding up the cassette tape he had plucked up from his workspace. The white and red label reads “Awesome Mix Vol. 1” in a neat hand. ] —this is my music.
This [ and he thrusts the similar-looking tape into Cassian’s chest. The label reads, “Quill Is A Moron Vol. 1” in a messy scrawl. ] is not my music. Okay?
no subject
Dude. Captain. [ Peter’s like 85% sure that’s the guy’s title, anyway. He kind of only recognizes the other guy by the look of him, knows him as a familiar face. Peter and the others usually report elsewhere. ] Cap. Okay. You’ve seriously gotta unclench.
[ ... which is probably not the best way to defuse the situation; telling angry people to calm down generally has the opposite effect, in Peter’s experience, but it’s a knee-jerk response. His expression doesn’t quite harden, but it does tighten up a little at the edges – in the line of his jaw, the set of his eyes – because there are quite a few things Peter needs to straighten out, here.
But first, Peter turns away, casting around in the small space of his bunk, and he finds what he’s looking for on the surface of his workspace, nestled among tools and a few devices he’s been meaning to fix up. A bit of tension drains from his frame, eased away on a sigh of relief, and he plucks it up carefully. ]
First of all, bro, it was a prank. [ And he jabs a finger in the general direction of the offending party; by now, Rocket’s cackling has died down to those weird, hissing snickers, but it’s still audible, even from here. Peter raises his voice a little, hoping it’ll carry down to Rocket. ] A prank by a seriously unfunny dickmunch who’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him.
And second of all— [ He returns to his inside voice, holding up the cassette tape he had plucked up from his workspace. The white and red label reads “Awesome Mix Vol. 1” in a neat hand. ] —this is my music.
This [ and he thrusts the similar-looking tape into Cassian’s chest. The label reads, “Quill Is A Moron Vol. 1” in a messy scrawl. ] is not my music. Okay?