[ Peter just-- sighs. Her reaction, surprisingly, isn't unlike how the others had felt at some point -- even him. All of them had fucked up a job more than once, made a dumb move that nearly jeopardized everything, and when Peter went to talk to them -- or when Gamora had gone to speak with him, in his own case -- they had all told him the same thing.

"I'm sorry, Quill. I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can work with a team."

Every time, he would reach over -- as he does now, pressing a hand gently over Rose's forearm -- and say, as he says now, ]

Stop. Shut up.

[ Peter looks her straight in the eye as he speaks, voice and gaze steady. ]

I don't care what fucked up past you had. I don't care what ghosts are chasin' after you. I don't care that you think you're too dangerous or too untrustworthy, or that you've been flyin' solo too long to know what it's like to have people you can depend on.

If we didn't want you with us, you wouldn't be. Gamora is the most deadly assassin in the galaxy. Drax can pull out a guy's thorax through his mouth. Groot could spear a dude with his arm, and Rocket could figure out six different ways to turn a calculator into a bomb.

So what I care about is this: you're part of my crew, whether you wanna be or not. And that means you'll get our help even if you push us away. I mean, imagine if our roles were switched. Imagine you found me in that alley, or Gamora, or Drax, or anyone. Would you or would you not have helped us, like we helped you?