Fun had been something that Gamora had taken a long time to learn -- at first, it'd been rather begrudgingly, in fact. But eventually, Peter had worn her down -- at least, that was what he assumed had happened, because eventually she'd been willing to dance, smile, and on a few memorable and wildly cherished occasions, sing along.
"I have tapes -- well, stuff on me. I'll let you listen, if you want." She'd come to like that music, in their time -- well, Peter's time -- but he was weirdly concerned over whether or not she would now. It felt important to him that she did, and he didn't want to just force it on her. It was supposed to be good, his music. His song. They belonged to him, and he'd wanted to share them with her.
He took another swig of his drink, if only to negate the effects of having some of it in his nose now. "Yes. Yes, of course with your permission. You think I'd ever-- I wouldn't. I would never. You'd gut me so fast it'd be like light speed travel or something."