[ Okay, cool. That seems to have done the trick, he thinks, and a bit of tension leaves him when that look of disapproval fades away.
He takes her hand, hauling himself up to his feet again. He brushes himself off, and gives one more pointed roll of his shoulder, as if to remind her that that had hurt.
It’s not the worst he’s had, though. When he was younger, the Ravagers would beat the shit out of him, would punch and kick and shove him until he was bruised and bleeding. His younger days were filled with frequent visits to the ship’s medic, and even those visits generally consisted of a Ravager slapping a bandage on him and telling him to suck it up and walk it off.
These sparring sessions, by comparison, were practically a cakewalk, even if Gamora did soundly beat his ass every single time. ]
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He takes her hand, hauling himself up to his feet again. He brushes himself off, and gives one more pointed roll of his shoulder, as if to remind her that that had hurt.
It’s not the worst he’s had, though. When he was younger, the Ravagers would beat the shit out of him, would punch and kick and shove him until he was bruised and bleeding. His younger days were filled with frequent visits to the ship’s medic, and even those visits generally consisted of a Ravager slapping a bandage on him and telling him to suck it up and walk it off.
These sparring sessions, by comparison, were practically a cakewalk, even if Gamora did soundly beat his ass every single time. ]
Are we going again?