[ Maybe in another place, another time, he'd marvel over the difference time could make. Before, his team used to hiss and snarl and protect their wounds, treating them in the private of their bunks away from prying eyes. Now, though, they let Peter help, and he's not sure if that's just them indulging him, or if that's them trusting him, but—

For now, he's just pleased to lend a hand.

He wraps the bandage around the dressing, taking care to not wrap it too tightly, but snug enough to apply pressure and keep the gauze in place. He focuses on his work, tongue darting out a little to lick at the corner of his mouth, and at her words, he glances up.

Absently, ]

Their Harvest festival was probably a couple weeks back, huh?

[ Which is too bad. He had really wanted to take Gamora there – cider tasting and hearty stews and warm cakes that taste faintly like Terran cinnamon. Artwork and knickknacks and blown glass sculptures. Fireworks and carnival games and dancing.

It would've been fun, but— well. Priorities had shifted.

He smiles faintly, finishing off the bandage. ]

Surprised you even know about that. Have you gone before?