[ She'll probably feel his nod more than see it. ]
Okay.
[ He should protest more, though. He should insist that he can help, or maybe he should tell Gamora to get out for her own safety, so she doesn't have to play bodyguard for him. He should tell her to slip out while she still can, to go find the rest of the guys and drag them back here to haul his sorry ass to someone who can sew him up.
And maybe he will, if this drags out too much longer, but for the moment, the idea of being left alone like this, unable to stand or walk without assistance, his side throbbing with a fire pulsing beneath his skin—
Well. It leaves him a little afraid.
But that's a decision for later. That's a decision for Future Peter, the Peter of ten, fifteen minutes from now. Right now, Gamora's in charge, because Gamora is the one who keeps her calm when things go to shit; Peter's the one to throw together haphazard plans held together by paperclips and prayers, and they don't need that yet. Hopefully not at all.
A small shudder runs down his spine and he curls up a little toward her. ]
Cold in here.
[ And maybe he's just saying that because of the loss of his shirt, but sweat collects on his brow, his neck, and it's just as warm inside the forgotten little store as it had been on the street. ]
no subject
Okay.
[ He should protest more, though. He should insist that he can help, or maybe he should tell Gamora to get out for her own safety, so she doesn't have to play bodyguard for him. He should tell her to slip out while she still can, to go find the rest of the guys and drag them back here to haul his sorry ass to someone who can sew him up.
And maybe he will, if this drags out too much longer, but for the moment, the idea of being left alone like this, unable to stand or walk without assistance, his side throbbing with a fire pulsing beneath his skin—
Well. It leaves him a little afraid.
But that's a decision for later. That's a decision for Future Peter, the Peter of ten, fifteen minutes from now. Right now, Gamora's in charge, because Gamora is the one who keeps her calm when things go to shit; Peter's the one to throw together haphazard plans held together by paperclips and prayers, and they don't need that yet. Hopefully not at all.
A small shudder runs down his spine and he curls up a little toward her. ]
Cold in here.
[ And maybe he's just saying that because of the loss of his shirt, but sweat collects on his brow, his neck, and it's just as warm inside the forgotten little store as it had been on the street. ]