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[Quill's lounging in the curve of a ruin, his feet up on a protruding piece of rock, a drink in one hand as he holds his comm device with the other]

Hey, listen, I know you're all really busy with your Geraldo versus Donahue thing, and that Southern lady's doing her best to be Sally Jesse without the shoulder pads? But I'm gettin' real tired of the daytime talk show, and there's nothing else on here except maybe knockoff Cheers. And your robot Sam doesn't even have a Diane, so it's pretty awful.

I touched that glowy thing in the middle of town and it put some weeeeeeird-ass junk in my head, which, hey, not the first time I touched a magic rock and it did stuff? But I'd love a little more to go on than that.

When you're not busy.

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Oh you can bet your ass I'm looking out for that shit. See you there, man.

[it takes him a while - partially because now he's focused more on looking for the fruit than following the map - but eventually he shows up with a scant handful of cherries and a grin]

Hey, dude! Look, I found some!

Peter! Hey!

[There is already a drink sitting across from Richie and a half-finished one right in front of him. Seeing the fruit, his smile grows.]

Yeah! Holy shit, good job! Share the wealth over there, pal.

Nice to hear your voice, man.

[he grabs that seat and puts the cherries down between them, picking up his drink and raising it]

To actual conversation!

To actually learning about you instead of 'PJ' and his weird sidewalk hustling!

[He clicks the glasses together and grabs one of the fruits to take a small bite. He might have a good constitution but he's not stupid enough to eat a whole one on top of the drink.

Not yet.]

So. How much did you embarrass yourself in that whole pretend place?

[Quill, meanwhile, is precisely that stupid and used to partying with space pirates. he pops a cherry in his mouth and washes it down with a shot.]

I dunno about embarrassing? It was just weird. Bein' convinced I'd been peddling dumb knockoff crap my whole life, not remembering Yondu or any of the Ravagers, or my crew... those idiots are my life, you know? What about you? You and Cute But Antisocial ever end up hooking up?

I...ah...

[ Richie looks down at his drink and tries to not turn as red as the fruits. ]

That... The guy actually happens to be my best friend in real life. Also my lifelong crush, if you'd believe it. So. Yeah. A little embarrassing to have thrown myself at him the way I did, but... I mean. We'll get past it. Probably. I dunno.

[He takes a deep sip of his drink.]

I'll let you know when we talk next.

Wow, yeah, that's ... that's A Lot. But hey - maybe it was actually a good icebreaker?

[he clinks his glass against Richie's in solidarity and encouragement]

When's that gonna be? You should like, set it up, take him on a date or some shit, promise no one's gonna wreck his car anymore.

[ Richie shrugs a shoulder and avoids looking at Peter directly. ]

I'll let you know when I get enough guts to actually talk to him, deal?

[ He swigs a drink. ]

I dunno, man. I dunno. The whole thing coulda just been a fluke of all that magic shit. Coulda been nothing and then I fuck everything up. I just dunno.

I know how that goes.

[he gave Richie a sympathetic yet manly thump on the shoulder and hoisted his glass in a toast]

Here's to being shitty at good relationships.

[Richie snorted a laugh and clicked their glasses. After sipping from it he let out a long sigh.]

So what's your sob story? I won't demand it outta ya but, I mean. This is definitely the wallowing party over here. Perfect opportunity.

Ehhh, it's kinda long, but I get the feeling that's not an issue in a place like this. Back home, for a long time I was a bounty hunter with a group called the Ravagers. Think ... space pirates. And they sent me for a treasure mark, this silver shiny orb thing. But by the time I got back with it, the buyer said he didn't want it anymore on account of it being associated with some sleazeball. So I walk out, intent on findin' someone else willing to pay me for a hunk of silver, and this smokin' hot green chick jumps me. And not in the fun way: she's after an orb but not the pair I'm personally packing, you get me?

[ Richie nods, completely understanding all of this even though there are pieces of it that are absolutely wild. ]

Holy shit. So basically you steal this orb for a guy, he wusses out on the deal because it's hot and the owner is gonna kick his ass over it. And then you walk out and a honeypot is there for that same fucking orb and tries to kick your ass over it. Lemme guess: she is working for the sleazeball?

[fingerguns]

You're good, man. So - yeah, we're fighting, and suddenly we're both getting attacked by two MORE a-holes: a talking raccoon with a giant gun and a ten-foot walking tree. Yeah. I know. ... Space is just weird, okay? Think every cartoon or weird movie you ever saw, and amp it up about twenty times. That's space. Anyway, turns out that those two saw that my boss put a bounty out on ME for not selling the orb. We're all trying to mutually kick butt, I'm just trying to get the hell out in one piece, she's trying to steal the damn orb, these other two just wanna get paid -- and that's when all four of us get arrested and dragged off to prison for disturbing the peace. The chick tells me her name is Gamora, and she wants the orb so she can actually screw over the guy she's working for - a super religious dick named Ronin - and turn it over to someone who'll keep it safe. The other two just wanna get paid, they don't care what for. The raccoon's name is Rocket, and the tree is Groot, on account of the only three words he knows how to say are "I am Groot". And now we're all stuck in jail. But Rocket comes up with a plan ...

[he checks his drink]

Shit, I'm out. Hit a guy up?

[Richie absolutely gets Peter more to drink and fills his own up for good measure. This is possibly the best story he's ever heard and it doesn't even matter that it's absolutely bonkers.]

Yeah. Here ya go. Okay. So you, the racoon, the tree, and Gamora are in jail and...the racoon comes up with a plan?

[He squints a little, trying to make this all make sense.]

Okay. So given the tree is talking, I bet that the racoon is talking, too. So it is like a smart, space racoon hanging around the tree with limited vocabulary. Also, your boss sounds like a dick, just by the way. A bounty for not selling the orb? Like you got screwed over. What the fuck. But yeah. Okay. I am following. Go on.

Yeah, we're in the middle of coming up with a plan in the mess hall when lights out hits. Problem is, they put Gamora in her own cell because her jackass father forced her to be a war criminal. And there are a lot of people we're locked in with that have it in for her.

Now, I'm still pretty p-o'd that she tried to steal the orb from me, but I'm not about to let anyone die, either. I'm not big on people gettin' killed. So I get up to check on her and find out that a couple a-holes have dragged her out of her cell and are gonna turn her into a pincushion. This one really huge bald guy, covered in these dark red tribal tattoos? He chases the other two off and says if anyone's got a right to her, it's him, because her boss Ronin killed his family. That's about when I walk in, and manage to talk him out of it. Because she's got what Ronin wants, and if he lets her go, eventually Ronin will come for her and he'll get to kill the guy himself. Guy says he goes by Drax the Destroyer, and that as long as we can lead him to Ronin, he won't kill her. Crisis averted.

[he sighs, shaking his head. even looking back now, he can't believe how it all wound up. how they had every right to just kill each other off, and none of it should have worked. at all.]

So next morning, Rocket gives us the plan ... and as he's talking, Drax just invites himself on over. Since he figures he's sticking with us until we give him Ronin. Given that we're trying to break out of the most secure prison in that sector of the galaxy, I'm not about to turn down a heap of muscles that calls himself The Destroyer, know what I mean?

[Richie isn't even drinking anymore. He's just nodding along with everything Peter says. The more wild it gets the more he nods.]

Shit, man. I wouldn't turn that down either. I had to fucking kill this goddamn clown and we had a guy with us all jacked up. Yeah, fat lot of good it did us. But that dude? The Destroyer? Hell yeah, I woulda dragged him along too.

[He sips his drink and tops off Peter's, enthralled.]

So you had to have gotten out. With your band of fugitives from a supermax prison. Damn. Even the tree had a warrant? Fuck.

You bet he did. Rocket was the brains, Groot was kinda the brawn. Dude could take an arm or a leg, stretch it out in this gigantic vine, grab someone, and whip 'em around like Indiana Jones on steroids. So Rocket said we all need to grab stuff so he can build something for the breakout, right? And Groot just immediately starts going for the first thing, a battery in the mess hall, like a lunkhead while we're all listening. None of us notice. You with me?

[he raises his eyebrows in the universal 'this is about to get good' expression]

As Rocket finished the list, he went - [cue a passable impression, honestly] "Now the LAST thing I need is that quarnax battery, so don't go gettin' that 'til we got the rest, or all hell's gonna break loose". I shit you not, at that exact friggin' moment, Groot rips the battery out.

We all just freeze. That one little second feels like forever, then suddenly there's alarms goin' off everywhere, lights flashing, guards pouring out of every damn hole they could've been hiding in, guns drawn. Some of 'em don't even give us a chance to surrender before they start shooting. We all split to get the stuff we need, and I'm dodging bullets left and right like I'm in an Atari game. The thing Rocket made me go get? Some guy's prosthetic leg. Me, I don't have a damn clue how he's gonna use it, but if he needs it, he needs it. I end up haggling with the guy and transferring him like, ten thousand credits, and book it to the rendezvous point under the guard tower. Groot has us all grab on and grows up so we can reach the top, all while we're still getting shot at. Gamora and Drax are taking guards down left and right, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Rocket got a gun and he's right in the thick of it too. Here's me. Legendary space pirate. Confirmed badass. Clinging on to a living tree with a fake leg. Yeah - yeah that feels real great. But then we get up to the tower and Rocket rigs the battery and the other stuff to the terminal and uses it to shut off the gravity for everything but the mobile guard terminal. Genius. Only, guess what he DIDN'T use?

[ This is the best story Richie has ever heard in his entire life. He isn't even drinking anymore, so riveted by this whole thing.

Hearing about what wasn't used, he bursts into laughter, understanding at once what happened.]

Oh my God. The rodent fucked with you! The little fucking racoon bastard fucked with you and didn't even need the leg at all, did he? Ten thousand credits, all that shit, and he was just being a dick?

[yep. if he hadn't already been getting strong Rocket vibes from Richie, the fact that he understands right away just seals the deal. congratulations, Tozier, you are now his replacement raccoon. Peter snuffles out a laugh]

Spoken like someone who truly knows the Way of the A-Hole. You bet he did. I was too impressed by the rest to stay pissed for too long, especially since sellin' that orb was eventually gonna make up for the money I lost and then some. We used the guard pod to get to where they were keepin' all our stuff and had my ship impounded, and got the hell outta Dodge. Gamora knew someone willin' to buy the orb ... and oh man, you are gonna love hearin' about the place where this a-hole lived.

[he took another drink to wet his whistle, then leaned forward across the table with an indulgent grin.]

Knowhere. And I mean, that was what they called the place. With a K. See, a long long time ago there were these gigantic things called Celestials. Humanoid, but - when one dies, they leave behind a skull the size of a goddamn planet. And that's Knowhere: a Celestial skull that got turned into a mining colony. Most surreal thing you've ever seen in your damn life.

[Little king Trashmouth!]

Knowhere. What the fuck. You know someone came up with that as a joke and then people just took it seriously for too long. That's such a fucking troll of a name. I love it. I am going to call wherever I live here 'Nowear'. Like 'no underwear' but without the under. It's gonna be great. Not a Celestial skull great but...

[Which...Actually. ]

Okay. Seriously? A skull? That is fucking insane. Also really fucking morbid. The skull is just drifting around and people are living and mining it? Surreal doesn't even fucking cover it. That is absolutely crazy. I don't know if I am more freaked out by that or by the fact that these giant assholes were just walking around in your galaxy somewhere.

[He's Gay!]

Oh they absolutely did. The Tivan family is just a bunch of self-absorbed shits anyway, it's on brand for them. One of them actually managed to be so extra in a family full of extra that he got exiled to Sakar, which is like ... the galaxy's junkyard. Literally. We'll circle back to that one.

But yeah, Knowhere is a trip and a half. Celestials haven't really walked around in eons, though. They're kind of like ... the space version of the dinosaurs. I've only met one other one, and uh.

[how do you tell someone that was your dad? seriously, how does that conversational leap even work? the thought occurs to him that maybe Knowhere is the remains of someone Ego knew, maybe even killed, and - yeah, he's just gonna finish off his drink.]

That's a whole other long-ass story.

[Richie could see the look of haunted memories on Peter's face. He nods and refills their glasses before clinking them together and draining half of it.]

Don't worry about that story. In fact, you don't look nearly drunk enough to be even thinking about another story. Bottom's up and toss it back. We have a full bar and a night without any plans. That calls for getting drunk enough to not remember half the shit we talk about. Right?

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