Bit o' both.

“ half ta damn galaxy don’ work like that! what would ye have offered ‘em? a cookie? ” his gaze is disdainful for the corpses they leave behind as he motions for peter to follow him. “ a’ swear, that softness of yers’ gonna get ye killed. or crawlin’ like a rat through some crap planet. or eaten by annoyed captains. ”

“Who haven’t tasted Terran before. Yeah, yeah. I know.” He falls in line without a thought. For all the butting heads they do, he’s still in the habit of deferring to Yondu. 

        He’d get a laugh if they were capable of it. All that comes, instead, is snuffling against his hand, a flick of their tail from one side to the other. Peter’s seen a great many things that they can’t even fathom, but they’re still relieved that he doesn’t seem even the slightest bit deterred at the sight of this shape.

        It’s nice. Being out here— and in a shape where they can stretch encased muscles, no less. Oddly enough, they feel far more human now than they ever have, withdrawing from his hand to idly, instinctively scent the dismantled rifle.

        Calvin almost dreads shifting back, really. And that’s entirely foreign. A few more minutes, perhaps—

He gets it, insofarasmuch as someone who doesn’t shapeshift into something completely different can. Peter had been weird and closed minded about shit for the first couple of years he was out here. 

But Yondu....Yondu was unflappable, in the fact of anything. He’d hit on a girl who wasn’t much more than a pile of Jello just as fast as he’d hit on a smoking hot chick with perfect tits.

Life’s more fun once you stop getting hung up.

“You like that? A Rocket special. He’d probably make you one, but something tells me you’re not much for violence.” Between Cal and Mantis, he’s not sure how they keep collecting these gentle souls. 

“Stuff you can dance to?” It’s been his observation that Terran music invoked obnoxious Terran dancing. For once, he’d like to hear a song that didn’t result in watching Quill gyrate spastically around the ship.

“Do you have a favorite?” Are we going to be subjected to listening to it over and over again? 

“Yeah.” A beat, and then again. “Yeah. There’s a great Sam Cooke song. Nice and slow, easy to dance to.” 

He steps in closer, but hopefully with still enough distance to run if he needs a quick getaway. (Old habits.)

Start Shit With Peter: (Accepting)

         ❝ Oh— oh, god. ❞ Instinct screams at him to drop the thing, but he’s totally not willing to get blown up right now. As much as he wants to heave it as far away as possible, he’s thoughtful enough to very, very gently set it aside. And step far, far away from it.

         ❝ Uh— is there anything else I should be worried about in here? ❞

One of these days, Dmitri is going to realize there’s a 50/50 chance that Peter is fucking with him when it comes to stuff being ready to explode in here. Rocket gets bored, just not that bored. 

His whisper is melodramatic.

“I can think of a couple things you’re the best at.”

An old game in response to an old dig. 

  Yeah, well, you’re the best at dropping your gun right when you’re about to shoot a guy!

         That was one time, and he kicked me!

Kraglin might’ve been first mate and Pete might’ve been one of the crew, eventually, but they were still just kids. Sometimes Kraglin thinks about what would have happened if Yondu had delivered Pete like they was supposed to, and he’s not sure he likes the answer for a whole host of reasons.

“Yeah, well-”

Like riding a bike. Or at least, he’s pretty sure it’s like riding a bike, because he hasn’t rode a bike since he got taken from Earth. But the saying said it was easy, so...

“You’re the best at crashing into living planets.”

Don’t be jealous, son. Ain’t nobody pretty as me.

...that doesn’t help as much as you think it does.

Start Shit With Peter: (Accepting)

He cants his head to the side, trying to keep completely still despite the fact that there is a string of small explosions going on behind him, and then...yep, there it is, the big one.