"I am not sure there is much that would make me feel better about my current situation," Nebula admitted, truthfully for once. She knew that sometimes, it was easier to slip in a touch of truth to gain the trust of a person, only to slip in the knife later. Gamora had taught her that many a times growing up. "Then how do I get off the ship? This is not where I intended to end up." She wouldn't mind knowing how she'd even gotten onto this ship, but getting away was of more pertinent information.
Although she wouldn't hate getting her hand repaired first. After a moment's hesitation, she offered the other woman her wrist. Maybe she had lucked up for once and found someone that she could gain help from. "I lost my hand. I eventually need to give myself a replacement."
While she wasn't afraid of using force to get what she needed, she knew that this was the easier way, and would attract less attention to herself. For now, she was fine with playing the victim if it got her what she needed.