Darkest Before Breaking Of The Dawn

Sleep Paralysis

"You're leaving leftovers too? Are you sure you won't still be hungry later?" Gamora asked him pointedly while she put away her own washed dishes.

Still Peter made a face, shaking his head as he wrapped and stored away his own leftovers beside the others in their fridge. "Nah–I couldn't eat another bite. Guess I'm not that hungry tonight." He really wasn't–the bad taste in his mouth from seeing the depressing state of their friend made damn sure of that.

She raised an questioning eyebrow, a subtle hint of concern for him showing. "It's just that you don't usually leave leftovers." She pointed out observantly.

Plainly he shrugged. "Well neither does Drax–except for today that is. And we all know he's usually a bottomless pit." He tried to act cool and collected. But judging by the concern and sympathy he was picking up from Gamora by just looking at her, he gathered she was seeing right through him. Of course, that was one of the reasons he loved her. Though it pained him, he smiled at her.

"Hey at least we all have leftovers for tomorrow! That means we can wait another day before going hunting again. Not that I wouldn't look forward to seeing you with a bow and arrow again. Hot stuff!" His fake attempt at wisecrack with a pinch of flirting her way came out weak, even to his own ears. Seeing her looking dryly unconvinced, he sighed, his face falling again.

"Peter, you don't have to pretend to be okay right now." She insisted on reassuring him. "I know you're still just as upset as before. And as you may know, so am I." She sadly reminded him, arms hugging her shoulders, still looking perturbed and emotionally vulnerable. "It's hard not to dwell on it."

Peter huffed a heavy sigh of defeat. "No kidding–even the others are so down in the dumps they also lost their appetites halfway." He bitterly notes so, glancing back along with Gamora at Mantis and Drax uncharacteristically quietly cleaning up dishes by the sink. A quiet demeanor that had carried out from the awkwardly sad and depressing dinner together, with no one finding an ounce of joy or legitimate reason to engage with one another positively.

With Rocket being responsive again on top of the small improvements to his well being, it should have been more of a reason to celebrate. If it were not for the possibility of having still lost their friend in the figurative sense, despite their efforts to save him, raining down on their parade. The possible loss of everything that made Rocket–well, Rocket–had them all greatly depressed.

Though to be honest, hearing from Gamora and Peter the almost equally worrisome news of the Nova Corps massive bounty on Rocket having followed them here on Hala probably did not serve to lighten the mood.

"I mean honestly–I can't even get outta my head seeing Rocket that way. I mean it was already bad enough with his injuries and not knowing what he would be like after waking. But at least we had some idea of who we might be dealing with when we did." His expression pinched with remorseful loss, gesturing in exasperation with his hands in the air. "But now without his memories–without those ties to his past and to us that could have helped–I just don't know Gamora. I swear it's like he's a whole different person."

Lamenting the stress that was ailing all of them, especially the normally confident and hopeful man she loved, she smoothed his t-shirt across his chest to settle him down. "Don't forget–it's worse for Rocket right now than it is for us. He's forgotten everything about his past–before the pain and torture. He doesn't even have memories of us to go by like we do. WIth his eyesight and hearing still limited, it probably doesn't help him feel any safer around us, much less be able to identify us or our motives yet." She reminded him, smoothing her hand up to his tense and sunken shoulders as he brooded.