Rocket's just as content to work in near-quiet, humming a little under his breath, a tune that Peter may or may not recognize, depending on what radio stations he's listened to. The raccoon lays out the components he's disassembling in front of him in neat little piles, separating power sources from wires from control switches from circuits.

He blinks when Peter speaks, bringing himself back out of his thoughts, the work almost meditative to him. "You think, or you have?" Confidence means a lot, and Rocket would know, wouldn't he?