[ There's an undeniable flicker of relief that catches her off-guard when she sees Richie finally smile – a familiar smile, one with humor that she's accustomed to from him. But the weight of it all snuffs it out as easily as it had come, and Gamora lets it slide away without trying to recapture that brief lightness. She doesn't poke and prod, and she lets Richie hide his eyes in his hand, lets him breathe as long as he needs to, but—
"Would you like to hear a funny story?"
(She has the sneaking suspicion this story won't be very funny.)
She hesitates (though not from reluctance or disinterest), looking at their surroundings. Out, open, exposed – this doesn't feel like the place.
She reaches out to touch his elbow, ever so gently. ]
no subject
"Would you like to hear a funny story?"
(She has the sneaking suspicion this story won't be very funny.)
She hesitates (though not from reluctance or disinterest), looking at their surroundings. Out, open, exposed – this doesn't feel like the place.
She reaches out to touch his elbow, ever so gently. ]
Not here.
[ Not in the middle of everything. ]
I want to hear it, but not here.