[ He winces once he’s sitting up, half-prodding, half-massaging his shoulder. He made a dumb mistake, he thinks; he should have taken the hit instead of trying to get out of its way. And while he knows sparring is hardly ideal for his recuperation, he also knows he can take one hell of a beating and has done so with gusto in the past.
More with worse, he tells himself again, and he slowly rolls out his shoulder, breathing slowly through the warning flashes of pain.
He catches her gaze, face solemn and determined. ]
Was it helping? ‘Cause if it was helping, we can go again. I don’t mind.
[ Because god knows Gamora has coached him through a shitton of his own personal problems. He owes her at least this. ]
no subject
More with worse, he tells himself again, and he slowly rolls out his shoulder, breathing slowly through the warning flashes of pain.
He catches her gaze, face solemn and determined. ]
Was it helping? ‘Cause if it was helping, we can go again. I don’t mind.
[ Because god knows Gamora has coached him through a shitton of his own personal problems. He owes her at least this. ]