[It's to the right that she veers when entering into the building, seeming to know already where she wants to go. She doesn't understand it, but she's stopped questioning the food, It hasn't killed her yet, or rather re-killed her, and it's not like there are better options. Everything is the same. It's eerie and puts her hackles up. The forested areas are still and quiet, a silence that usually means danger.
She is aware of him there, trailing along although she picks through several varieties of fruit, choosing from them, before moving on to another section. It's not even when he clears his throat that she looks at him. No, that doesn't come until he says he thought she was someone else that she spins, pointing a finger.]
Of course. The dirty haired Zehobereian.
[Because that sounds so utterly ridiculous that Gamora doesn't even like to give voice to it.]
It's fine. I get it. It's been, what- eight years for you?
[A guess tossed out there, as she has no idea when he comes from.]
no subject
She is aware of him there, trailing along although she picks through several varieties of fruit, choosing from them, before moving on to another section. It's not even when he clears his throat that she looks at him. No, that doesn't come until he says he thought she was someone else that she spins, pointing a finger.]
Of course. The dirty haired Zehobereian.
[Because that sounds so utterly ridiculous that Gamora doesn't even like to give voice to it.]
It's fine. I get it. It's been, what- eight years for you?
[A guess tossed out there, as she has no idea when he comes from.]