After soaking in the hot springs beneath the World Tree, Schiller returned to the sanatorium just as night fell. New York's night carried the chill of blue hour, yet still swayed with charm. Fatigue urged Schiller to go to sleep, but he still planned to arrange tomorrow's schedule first.
After typing a few messages on the computer and contacting the people he wanted to meet, Schiller went back to sleep. Early the next morning, he was awakened by noisy screams. A bright streak shone through the not-quite-closed curtains. Schiller raised a hand to cover his eyes.
He slowly walked to the window, squinted down, and saw a raccoon leaping frantically around the garden, with a group of patients in hospital gowns chasing after him.
"Damn it, I'm not a raccoon! I mean, I am a raccoon, but not the kind that digs through trash cans! Keep your filthy hands off me! Don't pull my tail! Get lost!!!"
Though he shouted like that, he could only keep jumping around to evade capture. At last, he double-jumped onto the largest tree in the yard. Then a group entered the courtyard, and Star-Lord stood beneath the tree, calling up somewhat helplessly, "Come down, Rocket. We came here to do serious business."
"These humans think I'm a pet! They've messed up all my fur. You go talk to him. I'm staying up here."
"Rocket! Rocket!" Schiller's voice came from behind him. Rocket Raccoon turned and saw Schiller leaning out of a window, so he hurriedly activated his jetpack and flew onto the balcony outside Schiller's window.
"Oh my God, Doctor, where did you find so many... so many... great adventurers?!"
Schiller grabbed Rocket Raccoon and hauled him inside. Then he said, "It must have taken real effort to come up with that term. But