[ The immediacy of that answer surprises him, makes him drag his eyes up to study Gamora’s face, like he’s expecting to see the lie written across the bridge of her nose. A few more seconds, he watches her, waiting for a break in that impassive mask, and when none comes, he nods with gratitude.

But he tenses, gaze flitting over to the corridor leading out of the training room, as if to direct her attention to the rest of the crew. ]

Not sure if the others feel that way.

[ Kraglin, for instance, who looks at him with this anger in his eyes, this resentment, when he thinks Peter isn’t looking – and it hurts whenever Peter manages to catch it. Rips straight through his chest.

And Rocket, who looks at him the same way, only sometimes, he’s not as careful about it. Sometimes, he darts out when Peter enters. Sometimes, he stares at him openly from across the room, like he’s asking, “Why the hell are you still here?”

His arm crosses his chest, hand pressing against his twinging side. ]

Do you really think this is gonna work? [ Soft, hesitant; the question has been burning in him, ever since their first day of training. ] If I learn enough and do well enough, I don’t think... I don’t know that everyone is on board with— [ me.

Is what he nearly says. He changes course at the last second, and says instead, with a vague hand gesture, ] —this.