[ Gamora leaves him by the door, heading to the kitchen to pull the chilled cups of cocoa from the fridge. She can’t help the soft smile that appears, unbidden, when he asks about the flowers.
Pausing, thoughtful, she sets the travel cups on the counter before glancing over her shoulder at Peter. ]
They’re perfect.
[ And that is more praise than Gamora usually gives anything. ]
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Pausing, thoughtful, she sets the travel cups on the counter before glancing over her shoulder at Peter. ]
They’re perfect.
[ And that is more praise than Gamora usually gives anything. ]