Sorry.

[ Even with her hand on his chin, his gaze wanders without focus, his eyes flutter shut, and his head continues to tilt downward in her grip. ]

Listen. Gamora, I— You—

[ This, barely voiced, as his eyes start to flutter shut, even as he tries gamely to keep them open, as he winces at himself, as a distant sense of self-preservation screams at him to stay awake. If not for himself, then for her, for the team, for the promise of tomorrow. ]

I wish— wish I could—

[ But sleep, rest, nothingness, are far too tempting. The siren call of unconsciousness, of no pain proves too strong to ignore. His head spins. Blackness creeps into the edges of his vision. ]

Mom's— my— my tapes... I know you— I want you...

[ All of this, just above a whisper, but after a few seconds, words escape him. His eyes shut entirely, lids too heavy to keep open. Coherency drifts away after that, and the next two words are hard won against the heaviness that finally drags him down. ]

Keep... them...

[ His hand drops from her shirtfront into his lap, and he falls silent entirely, slumping against her. ]