"DUDE! STOP MESSING WITH THAT!"
Layla's voice cut through the air, her annoyance evident as she snatched her sketchbook away from Owen's curious hands. He protested, his defense falling on deaf ears as Layla rolled her eyes in exasperation. She silently prayed for this journey to nowhere to reach its end soon.

As they all gathered at the front of the ship, their attention was drawn to the looming presence of something massive on the horizon. "Whoa..." Peter Quill's breathy exclamation mirrored the awe that rippled through the group.

"What is it?" Drax's deep voice rumbled with curiosity, his eyes fixed on the distant spectacle.

Gamora wasted no time in providing an explanation. "It's called Knowhere," she began, her tone tinged with a mixture of reverence and caution. "A severed head of a celestial being," she continued, her words carrying a weight that sent a shiver down Layla's spine.

Layla exchanged a glance with her father before turning her attention back to Gamora. The woman's next words were delivered with a hint of warning, prompting Layla to stifle a laugh at the colorful description. "Be wary heading in, rodent," Gamora advised, her tone grave.

"There are no regulations whatsoever here," she cautioned, her words lingering in the air like a foreboding omen.

"WATCH YOUR WALLETS," Peter's voice cut through the chatter as a group of street kids came running up, their presence adding a layer of urgency to the bustling scene.

A little girl approached with her hand outstretched. "Can you spare some units?" she asked, her voice tinged with both desperation and innocence. Layla quickly glanced around, ensuring her father's attention was elsewhere. Satisfied that he wasn't watching, she discreetly retrieved the meager sum of units from her pocket and placed them into the girl's waiting palm.

"Thank you..."With a swift nod of gratitude, the girl darted away, leaving Layla with a small smile that she couldn't help but return.

Feeling a pang of satisfaction from her act of kindness, Layla couldn't shake the nagging thought that she didn't often do good deeds. But in a place like this, where poverty was rampant and survival was a daily struggle, acts of generosity were a rare commodity. She empathized with the street kids, recognizing that their actions, while deemed as thievery by many, were often driven by necessity rather than malice. If circumstances were different, Layla mused, she might find herself in their shoes, resorting to pickpocketing to make ends meet.

Following her father through the crowded streets, Layla's thoughts were interrupted by the gruff voice of Rocket. "Your buyer's in there?" he inquired, his tone betraying a hint of impatience.

Gamora responded tersely, her words laced with authority. "We are to wait here for his representative," she stated, brushing off Rocket's inquiry with practiced indifference.

A commotion nearby caught Layla's attention, prompting her to turn her gaze towards the source of the disturbance. Two men were engaged in a heated altercation, culminating in one of them being forcibly ejected from the establishment. Drax's disapproving comment only served to underscore the unsavory nature of their surroundings.

Owen's worried voice reached Layla's ear as he leaned closer. "Is that gonna happen to us?" he whispered anxiously.

Layla met his gaze with a reassuring shrug before redirecting her question to her father. "Is that gonna happen to us?" she echoed, gesturing towards the altercation. Peter hesitated briefly before offering a tentative reassurance.

"Ah... probably not," he replied, his attempt at reassurance falling somewhat flat.

"Right," Layla echoed, her tone carrying a hint of uncertainty despite her outward agreement.

PETER'S WARNING ECHOED IN HER MIND
as she and Owen lingered outside the lively bar. The pulsating music and raucous laughter emanating from within tempted them, but Peter's strict rule against underage drinking kept them outside the bar.

"I thought that green lady said there were no regulations, so why can't we go into the bar?" Owen pondered aloud, his curiosity evident in his voice.

Layla's response was matter-of-fact as she leaned against the wall, her gaze fixed on the entrance. "Because my dad is very strict about no underage drinking or whatever," she explained to Owen, her tone tinged with a hint of resignation.

Owen furrowed his brows in confusion, his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of opportunity. "But isn't it different on Terra? Don't you have to be twenty-one to drink alcohol there?" he queried.

Layla nodded, confirming Owen's suspicion. "Yeah, exactly. But for me, it's definitely gonna be even longer," she admitted, a wistful expression crossing her face as she contemplated the distant prospect of legal drinking age.

A mischievous glint sparkled in Owen's eyes as an idea dawned on him. "Hey, Layla?" he interjected, turning to face her.

Layla turned to him, intrigued by his sudden shift in demeanor. "What's up?" she responded, curiosity piqued.

Owen gestured discreetly towards a lone bottle of alcohol sitting on a nearby table. "Go steal that bottle," he instructed, his voice low but urgent.

Layla's eyes widened in disbelief at Owen's audacious suggestion. "Steal the bottle of alcohol? Are you crazy? My dad would literally kill me," she protested, shaking her head vehemently.

Owen rolled his eyes, undeterred by Layla's reluctance. He rose to his feet, a smirk playing on his lips as he glanced back at her. "Calm down, roomie. Your dad won't even know," he reassured, his confidence unwavering.

Layla's glare intensified at the nickname, but before she could protest further, Owen gently freed his hand from her grasp and strode purposefully towards the table. With a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, Layla watched as Owen deftly retrieved the bottle and held it up in triumph.

"Okay, I got it! Come on!" Owen called out, beckoning Layla to follow. With a heavy sigh and a sense of impending doom, Layla reluctantly rose to her feet and began to chase after Owen, knowing full well the consequences that awaited her if they were caught. Oh, Layla Quill was not dead if her dad found out...

"LET'S POP THIS BAD BOY OPEN!" Owen declared, his grin irritating Layla to no end. The term 'bad boy' made Layla cringe inwardly. She had heard her dad use it several times when referring to items, and it was honestly embarrassing to hear it coming from someone else.

As Owen successfully attempted to open the bottle, Layla watched with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, especially considering her dad's strict stance against underage drinking.

"Do I wanna go first? Do I wanna—did you not hear the whole 'my dad will murder me, he's very strong about no drinking' thing?" Layla exclaimed frantically as Owen offered her the bottle.

"Oh, I did. I just...didn't care, I guess," Owen shrugged casually before taking the biggest sip of the mysterious alcohol that he stole. Layla stared at him with widened eyes, incredulous at his audacity. She began to think that Owen was in prison for a reason.

Owen quickly put the bottle down, his face contorting into a grimace at the taste. "Holy shit..."he muttered, clearly not expecting the unpleasant flavor.

After composing himself, Owen extended the bottle towards Layla once more. "You sure you don't want any, Quill?" he asked again, tempting her with the forbidden drink. Layla hesitated, torn between her desire to rebel and her fear of the consequences.

Snatching the bottle from his hand, Layla weighed her options, staring at the bottle in her hands with uncertainty. "Screw this," she muttered under her breath, taking a deep breath before taking a sip. Not just a small sip, but a gulp. She immediately regretted it as the harsh liquid burned her throat, eliciting a fit of coughing.

"Holy fuck," she managed to choke out between coughs, her eyes watering from the intensity of the drink. Once her coughing fit subsided, Layla glanced around, realizing she didn't recognize her surroundings. How far had Owen taken her?

"Was that not sick as hell?" Owen asked, seemingly unfazed by Layla's reaction. Layla shook her head vehemently. "That sucked! Plus, it tastes like literal shit," she retorted, still trying to recover from the harsh taste lingering in her mouth.

"What tastes like shit?" came a voice from behind her. Layla froze, her heart sinking as she recognized the familiar voice. She turned around slowly to see her dad standing there with his hands on his hips and a disapproving frown etched on his scrappy face.

"Shit," Layla muttered under her breath, realizing she was in for a world of trouble.

—

NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LONGER I JUST WANTED TO HER SOMETHING OUT.

Layla is in trouble 🤭🤭