[ The vague answer is familiar enough – something in line with what his own Gamora has told him. How her planet was similarly razed, how young she had been. His empathy is written in the details: in the minute softening of his gaze, in the subtle press of his lips, in the slightest downward turn of the corners of his mouth.

I'm sorry, though he doesn't speak it aloud.

He wouldn't wish Thanos' attentions (not affections, as Thanos would consider them) on even his worst enemies, but he sees the evidence of it on her for himself – the control in her posture, the silver scars etched into her skin, the Godslayer like a damning brand. It's difficult seeing Gamora like this. She's a different woman entirely, he knows, but he can hardly imagine her without her easy smiles, her relaxed posture, the look in her eyes when she glances his way, like he had hung every star in the sky.

At her next question, he doesn't smile, but there's a wry twist to his mouth. As if to ask, "Is there truly an escape from Thanos?"

But he understands the spirit of the question, and his answer is relatively rehearsed. The Nova Corps had a lot of questions for the nascent Guardians, after all, after the smoke had cleared around the wreck of the Dark Aster. ]

Thanos assigned me to assist a Kree zealot named Ronan the Accuser. He was searching for an Infinity Stone on Thanos' behalf. I was meant to assist, but...

[ He trails off, grappling with the words, before he ultimately settles on, ]

... I decided otherwise.

It's how I met the others, and the Gamora of my world. We've been a team ever since.