[ If she had the presence of mind, Gamora might have some complaints about Peter simply picking her up and putting her where he pleases, but as it stands— well, she isn't able to stand.
She can barely focus on Peter now. His hands against her face are almost cold, even with his own fever, but she doesn't turn away from him, trying to keep her eyes on his as he tells her to breathe.
Reaching up, her fingers curl loosely around one of his wrists, but there's no real grip to it, no pressure as she tries to draw a slower breath in, tries to keep her eyes open. ]
My— mods—
[ —should have taken care of this.
Should have burned whatever this is out.
But instead, that fever is raging out of control, and the self-regulation in her system can't keep up. ]
I can't—
[ Hoarse, as her eyes try to close, as she slumps just a bit more in his grip. ]
no subject
She can barely focus on Peter now. His hands against her face are almost cold, even with his own fever, but she doesn't turn away from him, trying to keep her eyes on his as he tells her to breathe.
Reaching up, her fingers curl loosely around one of his wrists, but there's no real grip to it, no pressure as she tries to draw a slower breath in, tries to keep her eyes open. ]
My— mods—
[ —should have taken care of this.
Should have burned whatever this is out.
But instead, that fever is raging out of control, and the self-regulation in her system can't keep up. ]
I can't—
[ Hoarse, as her eyes try to close, as she slumps just a bit more in his grip. ]