"I'm going to die."
Star-Lord crawled across the asphalt like a lizard, barely making it to a flower bed. Clutching its beautiful silver metal rim, he vomited stomach acid among the flowers and babbled, "Slade, next time we take off, remember to remind me to brace myself and hold on. And if possible, Groot, I hope you can grow seat belts inside the big ball."
"I am Groot!"
The tree-man was washing himself at the fountain nearby. He sounded a little unhappy, probably because Star-Lord had vomited inside him.
Drax walked over to Peter, stretched out a broad hand, and gently patted the Captain's back as he asked tenderly, "Do you really not want to drink urine?"
"This isn't a desert! Saying I'm going to die was just a figure of speech! And when did you start associating dying people with bodily waste?!"
The utterly lifeless Star-Lord sprang to his feet and delivered a classic three-part rant.
Su Ming stood with Carol and Elsa, arms folded, and chimed in, "Actually, Drax isn't wrong. Before death, people inevitably experience things like loss of sphincter control. How can you stop a crewman from telling the truth?"
"Exactly." Drax nodded aggrievedly, then immediately left Peter and walked over to Deathstroke. In a guileless tone, he said to the Mercenary, "Big brother, I want to join your ship."
"Don't defect so easily! And he's not even old enough to be your big brother!" Star-Lord ran over and grabbed his arm, his legs kicking rapidly as he broke into breakdancing. "Besides, he doesn't have a ship. He only has a gigantic monastery built onto an engine cluster!"
Since Peter often went to Contraxia for fun, he had naturally seen the fleet floating around New London. They were magnificent cathedral-palace complexes fitted with heaps of engines.