This Gamora was the hardened one from before she'd met Peter, Rocket, Groot and Drax. From before when they'd all had to learn to work together in order to deal something bigger than themselves. That was how it'd started though, how they'd all become a family instead of a bunch of angry, fucked up people. It sort of hurt, to know that those were things that this Gamora might never have since there was no real to remember them. That Gamora was at the bottom of a cliff somewhere, dead. He hated that, of course he did, but the last time he'd thrown a fit and had feelings about it, he'd been the direct cause of half the universe dying out. Not that anyone had been cruel enough to tell him so when they all got back. But he knew.
He sat when she told him to -- even when he'd been sassy and less obliging, Peter Quill had always sort of been swayed to just how incredibly bossy Gamora was, the clip of her tone that brooked no argument. He pulled the drink sitting there in front of him a little closer and took a swallow without bothering to ask what it was. It didn't matter, not really.
"You have questions," he said, and was trying, he really was, to not just stare at her with sad puppy dog eyes. He knew that Gamora, especially one from this time, was not prone to small talk.