[ Listen, Peter can be a jumpy bastard, sometimes, and that only gets exacerbated by the fact that his teammates, knowingly or not, like to sneak up on him like cats screeching out into the night as cheap jump scares in horror movies.
So predictably, Peter flinches. And thankfully, he doesn’t slice off anyone’s appendages with the sword in his hand, his own especially, and he doesn’t instinctively swing the sword around in a sword-like fashion.
Once he’s reasonably sure his heart isn’t about to explode: ]
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So predictably, Peter flinches. And thankfully, he doesn’t slice off anyone’s appendages with the sword in his hand, his own especially, and he doesn’t instinctively swing the sword around in a sword-like fashion.
Once he’s reasonably sure his heart isn’t about to explode: ]
What the hell, Rocket?
[ And quickly on the heels of that, ]
It wasn’t my fault.
[ That’s his story, and he’s sticking to it. ]