Chapter Text
A shy inphernal hides just behind his tall caretaker. “Kid, this is Sword.” Zuka coughs out, the smell of cigarettes clinging onto the air, “Be nice.”
Sword offers his hand and his smile, the morning sunlight peering through the window basks him in gold. Rocket scoffs. Zuka pats his back roughly, eyeing him expectantly.
Rocket half-heartedly takes his hand, feeling Sword’s calluses and a grip too tight. He resists the urge to roll his eyes when Sword shakes too hard.
“I hope we can get along.” Sword beams. It’s getting too bright for Rocket. He bites his tongue.
“Whatever.”