"She would want that. We were good for one another," he agreed. "My Hovat is dead, along with our daughter. Ronin killed them, at Thanos' behest. It was years ago. I have friends now that I travel with, doing questionably good deeds for others. I have also met you and others during my travels, so that makes living worthwhile."
Drax firmly nodded. Although there was still pain, the majority of it resided in the past. The present meant that he would avenge their deaths. After that? Then he would decide what to do from there.
Sparring and Pro Wrestling. Yes. For someone who didn't plan ahead very often at all, this was a plan he could live with.
"I welcome a unique challenge. I will now continue with the contest as cornhole, and will spar with you or your Scott at a time of your choosing. Farewell, Hope. Go dance like the tale known as Footloose with your mate."
He raised his now empty beer bottle and let out a rousing "Another!" to the bartender, who wasted no time getting another bottle opened for the big guy.