[for once in his life, rocket isn't there for the alcohol. isn't there to lose himself in the bottom of a glass. he doesn't have his team there to watch his back. doesn't have groot at all anymore. so he knows if he starts drinking now, he'll probably never stop. and considering he knows he needs to work out how to get his ass back home again, that's something he's going to avoid.

for now, at least.

but the bar still serves another purpose. namely, it gives him somewhere to look for more left behind equipment. a bottle opener, a lemon knife. items that he knows he'll find a better use for than leaving them to rust in piles of spilled alcohol.

when his explorations are interrupted by a voice somewhere on the other side of the bar though, rocket's ears perk up, a snort of amusement escaping him at the words. waking up on a station like this, with no clue of how they got there and how to get back? yeah, he gets it.]

I take it you've just woke up here too.

[a moment later, and there's a clawed hand sliding a half-filled bottle on to the counter. a warning before he clambers up the side of the bar, feet tucked in to the empty space that once held glasses.]

Looks like they're runnin' low back here though. Might want to keep some of it for when shit gets worse.