Clint liked Gamora. He really did -- and not only because she decided that working at COFFEE was a great and noble mission, in the grand scheme of things. He liked her because she was kinder than she let on, and because she was no-nonsense, but still somehow had an almost unexplainable sense of humor to her.
Over the last few months, he was pretty sure they'd gotten to be friends, too. Which was kind of cool. It wasn't always easy making friends in a place where the options were so limited and sometimes things felt a little forced.
"Maybe there will be later," he said, watching the way she held her mug between two hands, like a commercial for Folgers, but with less christmas incest and better quality coffee. "Sorry? What about Jesus? No. I think it's just... you know. The weather? What the heck has Quill been telling you?"