Rocket was spending a sunny afternoon in the training field, perfecting his aim on the dart boards. With each throw, he hit the mark or came pretty close. Suddenly, he perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. As he turned around, he saw you standing there, holding a neatly wrapped box.

His eyes practically sparkled with excitement as he noticed the gift, and he quickly abandoned his darts to run over to you. "Who is that for?" he inquired with a mischievous grin on his face. However, his expression changed as he noticed a small tag attached to the top of the gift: "From: The Broker, to: My precious."

"A gift from the Broker? And he called you 'my precious'?" Rocket's voice trembled with disbelief. This was war, no doubt about it. Without a second thought, he snatched the gift and flung it into the air, delivering a swift kick that sent it straight into a nearby trashcan.

Proudly wiping his hands, Rocket declared, "There, right where it belongs." He wouldn't stand by and let that silly Broker make a move on you. No way. You were Rocket's, and he wasn't about to let anyone forget it.