That confession — that kindness — sinks in with a heavy realisation, an ache in his chest. She was brutally trained not to do this very thing, but she’s choosing to share nonetheless. Now. With him. That matters more than from someone who was accustomed to handing over what little they had.
Bucky doesn’t say anything, but he’s still looking, his gaze quiet and thoughtful and following her. Watching Gamora’s fluid and graceful movement as she crosses the room, reaching for her weapons, suiting up to leave their little cabin.
(Part of him wants to stay here forever, but he knows it’s not possible. It’s an interlude, a brief respite before they inevitably have to move on to the next safehouse. But for now? They can rest.)
To the question, he snorts, but then, “No. Watch out for sharp teeth, sharp claws, and thick fur for defense. And the smaller grey ones, they might be in a pack.”
As he rattles off those dangers, though, this is honestly starting to sound like a terrible idea. There’s some gravelly concern in his voice when he says, “You’re already injured. You sure you’ll be okay out there? I can come with—”
no subject
Bucky doesn’t say anything, but he’s still looking, his gaze quiet and thoughtful and following her. Watching Gamora’s fluid and graceful movement as she crosses the room, reaching for her weapons, suiting up to leave their little cabin.
(Part of him wants to stay here forever, but he knows it’s not possible. It’s an interlude, a brief respite before they inevitably have to move on to the next safehouse. But for now? They can rest.)
To the question, he snorts, but then, “No. Watch out for sharp teeth, sharp claws, and thick fur for defense. And the smaller grey ones, they might be in a pack.”
As he rattles off those dangers, though, this is honestly starting to sound like a terrible idea. There’s some gravelly concern in his voice when he says, “You’re already injured. You sure you’ll be okay out there? I can come with—”