“Hey, hey!!!” Peter looked back into the Milano behind him to see his daughter, Y/N, trying to pet Rocket as he lounged in his seat.
“Watch the fur, kiddo!” he cried.
“But you’re so soft, Uncle Rocket!” you said, brushing a hand over his head anyway.
“I ain’t no stuffed toy!”
“Of course not,” you said as matter-of-factly as a five-year-old child could. “You’re a raccoon!”
“Raccoon? What’s a raccoon? Why has nobody told me what the hell a raccoon is yet?” Peter chuckled to himself as he watched, and he turned back around to face the front of the ship again.
“What’re you laughing about, Quill? What the hell is a raccoon? Freakin’ Terrans…”
Toad's Cave 