[ Instinct makes Gamora's arm snap out, and she grabs Richie's wrist, yanking him close, her other hand coming up to brace on his shoulder. She could dislocate it with the smallest shove, the barest pressure (by her standards), but— she doesn't. She doesn't seem to realize she's acted on impulse until they're dramatically closer, faces inches apart as she holds him in an arrested lock.
However, the action causes her to drop the pieces of her picture and the other two she'd been clutching. They flutter to the ground to join Richie's; the photo of her with Peter lands face down, but the one of her and Nebula lands right next to the image of the clown.
She's stopped breathing for that instant, her eyes (just a little wider with deadly focus) fixed on his face. ]
... Hypocrite.
[ She says it on an exhale, not letting him go yet. ]
no subject
However, the action causes her to drop the pieces of her picture and the other two she'd been clutching. They flutter to the ground to join Richie's; the photo of her with Peter lands face down, but the one of her and Nebula lands right next to the image of the clown.
She's stopped breathing for that instant, her eyes (just a little wider with deadly focus) fixed on his face. ]
... Hypocrite.
[ She says it on an exhale, not letting him go yet. ]