[ He flashes Rocket a grin that's mostly teeth, then settles down on the chair and sets the case down in easy reach. He doesn't really care about the state of it - if it's good enough for Rocket, it's good enough for him.
He goes about stripping down to an undershirt so Rocket can actually get a look at his arm - or what's left of it. It was torn off just below the shoulder, and James has since dumped most of the ruined scrap metal and trimmed the excess wiring to keep it out of the way. It's not like he hasn't poked around trying to figure out how to get the new one on, but it isn't as simple as slapping it back in place, and he's no tech expert.
If it was anyone else telling him about doing self-surgery with a mirror, he'd probably call it bull, but this is Rocket. ]
They messed you up that bad, huh? What did you have to fix that you needed to cut yourself open for it? [ Rocket's right; he's lucky in that respect. Most of the internal stuff doesn't need his intervention. ] And who's Groot?
[Rocket sets to examining the wiring to see what can be salvaged and what will have to be replaced and just rearranging them in a way that's too his liking. At least his hands are tiny and well suited to futzing about in small spaces with minimal discomfort.
He grunts. Yeah, they messed him up bad. Most of what's on the outside is the last of his truly organic pieces. He's a hardware store in a fur coat.] Voicebox, usually. It futzes out sometimes. [it's not an easy subject to talk about, but it seems a little bit simpler when he's wrist-deep in someone else's cyborg parts.] Every now and then a joint will pop badly. Not my hips though. If that shit breaks, I'm flarked. [In case you've ever wondered just exactly how a raccoon can walk upright like a person. Custom hips that pop from upright to all fours with a good back arch. He's not the best work anyone could ever do, but he knows to the average Joe, he's a rare thing, indeed.
It makes him bristle a bit as he sets his pliers down.] Most of the stuff in me was dug out of a scrap heap. They weren't interested in makin' anything worth crap at first- they just wanted to prove they could.
[Put too many scientists in an isolated system with very little contact with the rest of the galaxy and they will get bored. And boredom doesn't end well for the lesser lifeforms.] Prototypes, y'know?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He goes about stripping down to an undershirt so Rocket can actually get a look at his arm - or what's left of it. It was torn off just below the shoulder, and James has since dumped most of the ruined scrap metal and trimmed the excess wiring to keep it out of the way. It's not like he hasn't poked around trying to figure out how to get the new one on, but it isn't as simple as slapping it back in place, and he's no tech expert.
If it was anyone else telling him about doing self-surgery with a mirror, he'd probably call it bull, but this is Rocket. ]
They messed you up that bad, huh? What did you have to fix that you needed to cut yourself open for it? [ Rocket's right; he's lucky in that respect. Most of the internal stuff doesn't need his intervention. ] And who's Groot?
no subject
He grunts. Yeah, they messed him up bad. Most of what's on the outside is the last of his truly organic pieces. He's a hardware store in a fur coat.] Voicebox, usually. It futzes out sometimes. [it's not an easy subject to talk about, but it seems a little bit simpler when he's wrist-deep in someone else's cyborg parts.] Every now and then a joint will pop badly. Not my hips though. If that shit breaks, I'm flarked. [In case you've ever wondered just exactly how a raccoon can walk upright like a person. Custom hips that pop from upright to all fours with a good back arch. He's not the best work anyone could ever do, but he knows to the average Joe, he's a rare thing, indeed.
It makes him bristle a bit as he sets his pliers down.] Most of the stuff in me was dug out of a scrap heap. They weren't interested in makin' anything worth crap at first- they just wanted to prove they could.
[Put too many scientists in an isolated system with very little contact with the rest of the galaxy and they will get bored. And boredom doesn't end well for the lesser lifeforms.] Prototypes, y'know?