Quill saw stars from the blow. Clutching the back of his head, he stared in shock and anger at Yondu, who had suddenly appeared:
"Yondu?! What are you doing here?!"
"What am I doing here?" Yondu gave him another irritated kick. "If the Witch hadn't been kind enough to worry that you useless idiots couldn't handle Ronan, and specifically told me to hide nearby with my men, ready to save you at any moment, do you think you'd still be standing here breathing?! That lunatic Ronan would've hammered you into pulp!"
"What... what did you say?" Quill was utterly bewildered. He looked at Yondu in disbelief, then at the expressionless Hermione. "She sent you to protect us?"
Yondu snorted:
"What else? You think I had nothing better to do than come to Knowhere to watch the show?"
Quill stood there blankly, his mind in turmoil.
Looking at Yondu's seemingly genuine expression, then recalling Hermione's apparently casual yet carefully calculated actions, as well as the precisely measured freedom she had given Ronan, a vague idea began to form in his mind.
Could she really have let Ronan go because she had something else planned?
And arranged a fallback to protect us while she was at it?
The thought struck him as absurd, yet he couldn't deny the fact that Yondu had appeared.
Hermione looked at Quill's idiotic expression, then glanced at Gamora, who had likewise fallen into stunned silence, and sneered inwardly.
What a pair of geniuses.
No brains, no strength, yet they spent all day shouting slogans louder than anyone else.
The Malfoy family looked like Voldemort's lackeys, diligently serving him day in and day out, but in reality, they accomplished precisely nothing for him. Now that was a genuine public service.
*And then there were these two, constantly talking