He wakes up with a headache and an itchy ear. It feels like someone has stepped on his tail, more than once, possibly on purpose though he cannot remember what happened the night before. Neon lights and alcohol, rugged strangers clustered in a sweaty room; everything blurs in the back of his mind He does not remember why even came to this blowhole planet in the first place; just knows that he was made fun of all the same.
No one accepts his kind; disease-ridden thieves that thrive in the night. Maybe it would help if there were more like him-stronger, smarter, more humanoid-but there aren' and it makes everything harder. There have been rumors of others like him, small whispers in the back of the room on a crowded night but for all he knows it could have been the beer talking.
"Bastards" he says as props himself up on one elbow and paws at the fur on his head. Little glass beads slide out of the thick tufts, falling to the the ground with resounding grace. The sound reminds him of fairy-tales and it jogs his memory a little. Images of angry faces sift into his thoughts.
There is a city around him but he mostly ignores it. It's just like any city in the morning; full of people who are too busy to care.
He swallows and it feels like acid. The air around him smells like festering oil. It occurs to him that he is near a dumpster and that the wet coat of film on his fur is the product of its waste. A groan leaves his throat; he hates alcohol.
Vibrations sweep through the ground with unexpected strength and the light around him vanishes as a figure jogs to meet him. The creature is tall and imposing but Rocket does not shivel in its presence. The humanoid plant is a faithful friend.
"I am Groot?" the tree inquires softly, hunching down on his knees to reach for Rocket's arm.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, I'm okay." Rocket speaks as he waves the tree off, coughing as he attempts to stand on his own. Goddamn thing should be his mother. "Just a little pride, that's all." His body shivers as he reaches the extent of his diminutive height and he wavers a little as his head clears.
"I am Groot."
He does not miss a beat. "Nah, I ain't goin' after 'em. Not worth my time, besides," he flashes his bark-covered friend a toothy smile and holds up a small metallic piece. He must have been sitting on it, he thinks as rubs at the pain in his back. "Lookie what I just found". Outwardly, it does not look like much, but it is a part-liberated from a fellow midnight patron- that he has needed for quite some time. He has been dying to modify his latest creation; a bastardized rocket launcher with a triple barrel intended to launch grenade a with a plasma core. The calibrations are tricky but it will be worth the final product. Like everything in his life, he must design his own advantage.
The tree hums at the sight of his prize, amber eyes growing large with wonder.
"Ha, I remember now." Rocket smiles as he rotates the device in his hands, admiring the way it shines. "That jackass bartender. What's his name…?"
"I am Groot."
A small finger points toward the tree. "Yeah, that's right, Phil; tried to make me pay double for scaring away his customers."
Groot makes a disgruntled noise and Rocket nods blankly. The fight had not lasted long but he can feel the bruises.
"Hey we are what we are, eh buddy?" the raccoon offers with a sigh as he pockets his new treasure. "Can't expect 'em to understand." he says with a sniff of recalcitrant pride.
The tree shrugs and his eyes squint as he gives his friend a slanted smile.
Rocket wipes at the grime on his face and begins to brush at his clothing. Everything is still where he left it. Good.
A moment later he begins to walk away from the tree, aiming for the nearest transport hub. When he fails to hear the familiar weight of footsteps behind him, he turns to face his bodyguard. The tree is eyeing him warily, as if he expects him to fall over.
"You comin' numb-nuts?" Rocket's palm flashes impatiently in the air.
The tree's next line has an air of offense."I am Groot."
"What do you mean you're not a girl?" he pauses, and grabs at his chin in thought "Oh riiiiight, I guess that makes sense." Rockets face twists in amusement as he regards his friend. "Nuts are kind of a lady thing where you come from."
There is a shuffling noise as the tree shakes his head and groans with incredulity. The bark if his skin twists and groans with the movement. He is not mad, but he is short on witty replies.
"What'd'you say we get the hell out of here and find something warm and tropical. I could use hot bath and a nice piña colada."
"I am Groot!" the tree shouts with animated glee and Rocket winces as a large hand slaps against his back. Groot is brimming with excitement and bounces up and down on his stumpy heals.
The thief cannot help but smile at the idea of Groot sunning himself on a beach and sipping through the shell of a coconut,He almost laughs at the image of it, but stops himself as he regards the tree's feelings. He decides that the tree will not care, and neither will he.
They are going to stand out like flies on a wedding cake but it is bearable because they understand one-another. He thinks as he begins to walk toward the nearest street. All the world's a circus and they are but the clowns.