nostalgiabomb: (□ 006)
Peter Quill ([personal profile] nostalgiabomb) wrote 2016-12-22 10:05 am (UTC)

[ His lips part to argue, thanks to that old stubborn part of him that insists on showing he can pull his weight, but—

One: he's pretty sure Gamora would be all too happy to give him a taste of his own medicine, and if there was one thing he hated, it was having his own words flung back in his face. And two: the aches of his body, the exhaustion in his bones, quickly shout down that lone, dissenting voice, and he slowly nods. ]


... Thanks.

[ And his shoulders drop slightly in relief. Peter could probably manage to help shove around the crates they had cleared away, he certainly didn't want to.

So he turns, making a beeline for the little space they graciously called the medbay before Gamora can change her mind. Or before she can get around him and trip him onto his ass again. Either way. ]

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