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Burnt flesh. That was a smell that attached itself to the inside of your nose and didn’t go anywhere for a long time. It also, in the case of Rocket, brought back quite a few bad memories.
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“I’m not afraid to shoot them /and/ you.”
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“Sorry, must’ve mistaken you for it since you look like hot garbage.”
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Say it again and your little friend downstairs and it’s... luggage will get blown off your body.
No more flannel funtime for Bucky!
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“What. Did you. Just call me?”
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