[ Gamora's surprise bleeds through her attempts at composure, and even Maw pauses to glance up at Peter from the corner of his narrowed eyes. After a second of hesitation, Gamora allows her grip on the bag to loosen, and her arm drops away to rest instead against the pillow, bowed back to give Maw room to work.
Spindling fingers peel away the bloodied bandages, and Maw hums in distaste. ]
Aren't you better than this, Gamora?
[ Again, Gamora doesn't comment, but hate edges into the periphery of her expression. She's never liked Maw, ever. He's a disgusting sycophant who takes joy from causing pain, as much as he may also be employed by Thanos to treat injuries.
The less she has to deal with him, the better.
He goes about cleaning the site again, inspecting the edges of the damaged flesh, before he's reaching for sutures from his kit. ]
You're fortunate this is superficial, but I'm going to add a few stitches below the surface, so there's no further tears from stress to the tissue.
[ Gamora's gaze darts down to the needle as Maw prepares it, before she forces her eyes closed.
She knows this is going to hurt.
Instead, she does everything she can to focus her frayed attention on Peter standing by the bed.
(Why is he still here? Why hasn't he left? He said he was going to, and Gamora doesn't blame him for it, but— He's here.
Why?)
The first slide of needle through exposed skin startles a bitten-off sound from Gamora, and she can practically feel Maw's disapproval without bothering to look at him. He doesn't comment, much to her relief, and for all that she can't stand him, he's good at what he does. Four stitches take less than a minute – an agonizing minute without anesthetic of any kind – and then he's changing his gloves and redressing the wound. ]
I will leave you a sedative so that you can get some sleep. For now, that is what your body needs most.
[ And then, much to Gamora's relief, Maw is packing his things – after leaving a small bottle of pills on the nighstand. ]
Remove the IV when the bag is drained, and dispose of it.
[ Maw turns cold eyes to Peter, his lips curling in a truly unpleasant smile. ]
I'm sure Mr. Quill can assist you with that.
[ And to Gamora: ]
Your father will expect an appraisal of your condition in the next day. Send for me if you need further treatment, but I would appreciate if you could possibly do your job correctly, instead.
[ Maw gathers up his case, fixing his jacket, before he offers them both a poilte nod and excuses himself from the bedroom.
Gamora doesn't relax until she hears the front door close, and then she slumps against the headboard. ]
no subject
Spindling fingers peel away the bloodied bandages, and Maw hums in distaste. ]
Aren't you better than this, Gamora?
[ Again, Gamora doesn't comment, but hate edges into the periphery of her expression. She's never liked Maw, ever. He's a disgusting sycophant who takes joy from causing pain, as much as he may also be employed by Thanos to treat injuries.
The less she has to deal with him, the better.
He goes about cleaning the site again, inspecting the edges of the damaged flesh, before he's reaching for sutures from his kit. ]
You're fortunate this is superficial, but I'm going to add a few stitches below the surface, so there's no further tears from stress to the tissue.
[ Gamora's gaze darts down to the needle as Maw prepares it, before she forces her eyes closed.
She knows this is going to hurt.
Instead, she does everything she can to focus her frayed attention on Peter standing by the bed.
(Why is he still here? Why hasn't he left? He said he was going to, and Gamora doesn't blame him for it, but— He's here.
Why?)
The first slide of needle through exposed skin startles a bitten-off sound from Gamora, and she can practically feel Maw's disapproval without bothering to look at him. He doesn't comment, much to her relief, and for all that she can't stand him, he's good at what he does. Four stitches take less than a minute – an agonizing minute without anesthetic of any kind – and then he's changing his gloves and redressing the wound. ]
I will leave you a sedative so that you can get some sleep. For now, that is what your body needs most.
[ And then, much to Gamora's relief, Maw is packing his things – after leaving a small bottle of pills on the nighstand. ]
Remove the IV when the bag is drained, and dispose of it.
[ Maw turns cold eyes to Peter, his lips curling in a truly unpleasant smile. ]
I'm sure Mr. Quill can assist you with that.
[ And to Gamora: ]
Your father will expect an appraisal of your condition in the next day. Send for me if you need further treatment, but I would appreciate if you could possibly do your job correctly, instead.
[ Maw gathers up his case, fixing his jacket, before he offers them both a poilte nod and excuses himself from the bedroom.
Gamora doesn't relax until she hears the front door close, and then she slumps against the headboard. ]