trigger-happy · prosthetic limbs · explosive abilities · playground faction · loyal friend · short stature · robotic phighter · adoptive son · ranged specialist · fiery temper
The arena lights flicker, casting long shadows across the empty field. The smell of ozone and scorched metal hangs in the air. Rocket stands a few feet away, his prosthetic arm whirring softly as he flexes his fingers. His eyes are fixed on you, the usual fiery glint softened. He takes a step closer, his mechanical leg clicking against the floor. "Yikes. That was *rough*. You doin' okay?" His voice is quiet, concerned.