( wanda isn't entirely too sure that she feels very comfortable in this man using such familiarity in how he talks to her, referring to 'we' as some kind of team up, currently, but perhaps it's enough of a brash thought for her to realize that she has far too many hangups to be judging people so harshly. still, she steels herself to her circumstances, tries not to be appreciative of this stranger's help when he owes her absolutely nothing.

inside the ship, she pulls off at the scarf that she had wrapped over her head and shoulders, setting it down on one of the wall-benches. she herself circles around the center console, looking at him as he looks about. )

The best mechanic I know put it together for me. He reassured me it wouldn't give me trouble as long as I didn't push it.

( —and push it she had. even if rocket's job under the chassis speaks of an expert's hands at work, the general look of the ship was meant intentionally, so that wanda would be able to camouflage easier with the other heaps of metal without catching anyone's greedy eye.

it isn't rocket's fault that she attempted so many jumps between galaxies. )

I thought I'd try fixing what's wrong first before calling him. Don't tell me it's a lost cause.

( she stops by a ladder that leads onto an alcove; that's where she sleeps, a general living space behind her. a box of tools sits atop a table.

despite her arms being crossed, her shoulders relent in their tension. )

My name's Wanda.