Undoubtedly Gamora would be mentioning something or other about following Terran rules right about now if she were here, but Peter was on his night off. That's when you were supposed to get into all your trouble. He found a clear roof on a fancy restaurant and decided to hell with it, landing without a hitch and starting to shut down his ship. No doubt somebody had heard or seen him coming in, but that wasn't his worry since he'd left the shields up. Instead he wanted to double-check a weird little rattling noise he'd heard towards the back of the ship.
Where Rocket had last been playing around with the wiring, come to think of it. Damn trash panda better not have planted another bomb 'in case of emergencies'. Very few emergencies were improved by your ship exploding, a concept that his teammate seemed to not understand as well as Peter would like. Deciding to ignore the likelihood of Terran involvement in the near future, he sang under his breath with the song on his Walkman as he opened up the side panel. He didn't plan on staying, just checking whether or not there were more weird classes of explosives before he went for some dinner. "They say "Brandy, fetch another round". She serves them whiskey and wine." Good song, all things considered.
He whistled through the chorus as he dug through the rat's nest of wiring, not finding anything to considerably worry him. Seemed like the explosion would wait. Peter unbuckled his holster belt, draping it over the back of the copilot's seat. Terrans were so damn touchy about a fella carrying his own weapons that he'd learned it was generally better to not carry them along. Although it was easy to get away with his jet boots and the helmet pod. Grabbing his red jacket from a hook in the hallway, he checked a last couple of readouts before making his way to the bay door.
"Stone age love and strange sounds too, come on baby let me get to you," his Walkman played. Peter bobbed his head with the music, humming a few bars here and there as he left his ship, only glancing back once to make sure the door had closed. And great, the Terrans were here when he turned back around from a frankly impressive twirl. "Hey, man, if this is about that outstanding speed ticket, I swear I'm about to get on that," he promised, pulling his headphones down around his neck. The man gave him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I'm getting the feeling that you're not here about that."
"Is that your vehicle, sir?" the security guard asked, nodding toward the ship.
"Well, yeah, that's the Milano. She made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs," he said, deadpan. Evidently the guard didn't get the joke. "Aw, c'mon, man, I'm just here to get something to eat. You guys don't do free parking any more?"