Gamora had been colder. She was wearing her normal attire; with the suit jacket and pants, boots, her hair in bright magenta curls down her shoulders and bouncing against her back as she walked. Though she'd read up about this day and knew a handful of the customs, she wasn't sure she wanted to wear a dress like other human women. They looked... impractical. Even when Gamora wore skirts they were meant to move.
The pizza was delicious—Peter had been right about that. And so far there was no danger of garlic breath or smacking.
As they walked closer to this part of the town, with the strange structures and closed storefronts, Gamora turned her eyes up to the top of the giant wheel Peter mentioned. She took a moment to stare up at the thing, trying to determine structural integrity. It seemed high, but safe enough.
"All right." She nodded. "I'd like to see the best view of the city. How do we get it to take us up there?"