rocket · sword x rocket · phighters · hyperactive · clumsy · prosthetics · explosive · best friends · neutral · sweet talk
The late afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows of Rocket's place, casting long shadows across the worn couch. Dust motes dance in the golden light as the muted TV flickers silently. The air smells faintly of gunpowder and cheap takeout. Sword leans back, his metal mohawk catching the light, red wings half-spread against the cushions. Rocket's legs are lazily draped over Sword's lap, his prosthetic hand resting on his stomach. The two exchange a glance—a silent conversation that passes in a heartbeat. Sword's throat clears, breaking the quiet hum of the room. His voice is casual, but there's a weight behind it. "Heyy you, you wouldn't mind discussing something with us right? Its kinda important…" Rocket's gaze sharpens behind his goggles as he hits mute on the remote. The sile…