[ It's impossible to miss how his smile drops away, how he freezes like she's just driven a knife between his ribs. His voice has lost its light humor, and Gamora feels struck by some unexpected weight, the empty presence of the person Peter wanted to be here instead.
Her fingers curl at her side where she'd held Peter's hand for that brief moment, and she takes a few more steps back, leaving a handful of feet that might as well be an impossibly deep chasm between them. ]
It's late.
[ Her tone isn't cold or unkind – just flat, matter-of-fact. ]
no subject
Her fingers curl at her side where she'd held Peter's hand for that brief moment, and she takes a few more steps back, leaving a handful of feet that might as well be an impossibly deep chasm between them. ]
It's late.
[ Her tone isn't cold or unkind – just flat, matter-of-fact. ]
You should be resting for tomorrow.