Peter makes a note on his paper and punches another button. "Damn," the boy murmurs, "I thought... hrm." He stares thoughtfully at his notebook.
"Hey pipsqueak," the First Mate says as he leans into the hatch of the sim-pod, "How's yer first flyin' lesson goin'?"
"Hey Kraglin," Quill mutters, he makes an annoyed sound and looks up at the lanky Xandarian, "I thought I was gettin' somewhere, but now I'm lost... Controls don't just change on their own, do they?"
Obfonteri frowns and looks at the simulator's displays. "No, shouldn'," then he sees what the kid might've missed, he points to a set of alien symbols on the left side of the HUD, "Unless yer running yer jump drive an' don't know it. See?"
"What?! ...Aw, man," Peter squints at the digital figures and carefully copies them to his notebook. He whispers to himself as he adds his translation, "Jump... drive... on."
"Hmmm," Kraglin hunkers down, leaning right into the pod. "So that's yer language?" he asks, tipping the notebook so he can see it better, "I think I've seen that before... What's it called? Terran?"
"It's English."
"Inglish...?" the First Mate snorts, "That's a weird name fer a language."
Quill makes a face, "No, it isn't."
Kraglin blinks at the kid and gently pulls the notebook from his grasp, "Yeah it is. On Xandar we speak Xandarian." (I don't think this is actually true.)
"There're hundreds of languages on Earth," Peter explains, he finally thinks he understands what his grandpa used to mean about someone being 'exasperating,' "English is the one I know."
"An' that is a sign of a primitive planet," Kraglin says and bops the youngest Ravager on the forehead with the notebook, then he stands. "Come with me, I think we got somethin' that'll make this easier for ya."
Peter scowls and climbs out of the sim-pod. "My planet's not primitive," he grumbles as he jogs to catch up to the tall pirate.
"Yes, it is," Obfonteri replies casually, he taps a sequence onto a panel in the wall, activating an auxiliary console, "Your race still thinks they're alone in the universe, kid. Alright, let's see..."
The boy's mouth opens to respond, but he can't actually argue that one. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at the grate flooring. "I knew we weren't alone in the universe."
Kraglin snickers as he brings up the ship's database. "Hmm... Ing, nope, ing... lesh," he murmurs and frowns at his results, "That ain' it... Sample... okay." The First Mate motorboats his lips and holds the notebook up to small scanner.
"That is still so cool," Peter breathes as he watches a green beam pass over the paper, "It's just like Tron..."
"Hunh, sounds like a bar on Contraxia," Kraglin replies as he manipulates the rendered image for his search. He hands the notebook back to the youngest Ravager and focuses intently on the console for a moment. "You got that computer Cap'n give ya?"
"Um... no."
Kraglin's hand flashes out and whacks Quill on the shoulder, "Why the hell not?"
"Ow! Tullk's got it at the nav," Peter rubs at his arm, "Cap'n said he's gonna show me how to read sector maps."
Obfonteri glances sideways at the child, he whacks the kid again.
"Ah! Hey! What was that one for?!"
"Should a led with that 'stead'a makin' me ask," Kraglin answers calmly, his attention hardly waivers from the displays.
Peter grimaces, if this is what it's like to have a big brother, he's not sure he's a fan. "Cap'n Yondu told me not to volunteer information," he mutters, and the First Mate whacks him again.
"Don' sass me when I'm doin' you a favor, Pete. It ain' nice."
"Rrr," Quill growls and swats Kraglin's arm in return, "I didn't sass you!"
The lanky Xandarian's brows knit together and he glares, not quite meanly, at the nine-year-old. He throws his hand out to thump the boy a fourth time, but Peter blocks the hit, so he tries again, and again.
The ensuing slap-fight ends only when Quill takes a chance knuckle right to the bridge of the nose.
"Shit!" the kid yelps and grabs his face, Peter can hear Kraglin chuckling.
"If yer done, you c'n go get yer comm-pad now. When this search comes back, it ain't gonna do you much good if you can' take it with you."
"What!? You started it!" Peter swings a fist, and Kraglin grabs it easily, engulfing the boy's entire hand and wrist with his long fingers.
"An' I jus' ended it, too," Obfonteri says, spinning the boy around and kicking him in the rear. "You bes' run, Peter, you know I hate waitin' on ya."
