[ It's a good thing Peter's used to people snapping at him, which means her tone hardly bothers him. ]

Yeah, well. We might be dealing with some weird drug shit. Who knows what kind of chemicals that prick might've been messing with?

[ He watches her with an undisguised frown, that terribly familiar sense of helplessness and worry clawing up his throat. He swallows it down as much as he can, tries to tell himself that Gamora will be fine, that she's made to withstand worse things, as she always tells him. ]

C'mon. Drink some more water. Whatever this is, you obviously need to give yourself time to burn it out.