"So you're controllin' it, what? Electrical impulses? Some psychoactive bullshit?" Rocket pulled his caboodle over with a still-bandaged foot and shoved his hand in to pull out a few pieces. For illustration, not to actually do anything useful with yet. "You want nano, fine. First thing is, what you got's all there is. This place is even more of a primitive shithole than whatever Terra you came from, which I gotta believe's the one I mostly think of when I think of Terra." Which was to say: where Quill came from. "'S a bigass limiting factor."

He started fitting pieces together, occasionally digging for wires or a watch battery. "So if you got a hand an' a face, there's a buncha those nanite bastards doin' nothin'. I can work with those easy, but that'll fuck up your fixes 'less you find a way to replace'em. Other shit's gonna be way easier. I got a rig design for flying I can probably adapt to your gangly ass. Plenty of wire and bits around, I can probably do stuff for concussive force, electricity, microwave shit." Rocket just bet the kid would let him - hell, help him - adapt those shooters of his for other stuff if it'd help somebody else. "Also yeah, for free. This's interestin'."