Waiting for someone else to write was always a little boring. Sitting on the windowsill, Rocket Raccoon had begun studying what exactly those fuzzy plants in the vase beside Schiller were.
The place was somewhat retro, but not retro enough. Clearly, the owner had not deliberately decorated it in a Victorian style. Those ornate candlesticks, fancy enough to hurt the hand, had merely been displayed on shelves as collectibles rather than fitted with candles and lit.
Just as Rocket Raccoon began passing the boring time by guessing the stories behind each collectible, Schiller dipped his pen in ink again. The movement drew Rocket Raccoon's gaze to what was being written in the notebook.
Rocket Raccoon tilted his head, somewhat puzzled. His language database contained countless languages from interstellar civilizations, including most of the languages spoken by relatively remote civilizations like Earth.
After learning the truth of his birth, he thought this might have been a means used by the Kree Empire or the Skrull Empire to make it easier for him to spread word of what was happening at Half-World Asylum.
You had to understand enough languages before you could communicate with enough people, but unfortunately, language alone was not enough.
As that pessimism rose within him, Rocket Raccoon had to focus on deciphering the words Schiller was writing in order to distract himself.
He had that ability. Essentially, he was a precision machine, and thanks to the other two great empires being so exacting with the Shi'ar Empire, this machine worked remarkably well.
Soon, Rocket Raccoon figured out the pattern in those words. At their core, they were Latin, but they used the word order of another language, making them fragmented and difficult to read, as though deliberately designed to obstruct the reader.
Why was that? Rocket Raccoon could