"Corvus mentioned something about a 'Reward For Finding My Beloved Daughter' but, given what you've told me about Damien, I doubt that's a sincere sentiment."

Gamora's fist clenches tight. She lean against the transparent hull partition.

"He's not your father. Not really."

She snorts quietly. "No. He likely wants to make me pay for betraying him," she admits. Sighs quietly. "I- he did raise me. One way or another. And he...did protect me from some things."

“I guess there’s no sense getting hung up on wording, but—“ She grits her teeth and turns away. “Sorry. Imagine you probably don’t want to talk about it.”

"...I don't know," Grim admits. "I- never could before." Sighs shrugs. "The stars are more interesting than this anyway."

Stars, stars, stars!

In their little hidey-hole, Gamora and Grim are not disturbed as minutes while by.

Eventually though, those minutes are liable to become hours and those hours are liable to become hunger/fatigue?

Grim's used to both of those sensations, the inevitable and inescapable fact of them.

...However.

She looks over to Gamora. "We should perhaps go and find some food?" she's reluctant to leave here, but still.

"Mmmhmm."

She notes Grims hesitance.

"You know what the best thing is about this place?" With a sweep of her hand, she indicates the irregularly shaped room they stand in. "It's always there waiting the next time I want to visit. The stars beyond it change, sure--but that's a good thing, keeps the view interesting."

She laughs a little sheepishly. "Thank you. For sharing it with me."

"Of course," she says.

("Thank you for not calling it Stupid Boring," she doesn't add)

Gamora leads the way back downstairs.

As they cross the hall between the elevator and the cafeteria, a familiar dour figure accosts them.

"Grim. I've been looking for you."

"You found me," Grim says simply in response, posture loose, relaxed.

“Proxima?”

Gamora steps forward slightly, to interpose herself partway between Proxima and Grim.

“I was hoping to speak to our new sister alone.”

Grim inclines her head. "If you wish," she agrees.

With a tilt of her head, Proxima indicates a sideroom a little further along the hall.

She gives a monotone command as she does so. "Follow."

Gamora steps back.

She whispers into Grim's ear: "Be safe."

Gamora passes behind her, jostling her slightly in the process, and presses something into Grim's palm.

It's the small knife Grim had seen Gamora whittling with back during their first conversation.

It fits away neatly in a clenched fist. Perfectly balanced.

She inclines her head slightly, apparently in farewell, tightens her grip around the blade, understanding the seeming significance, and follows Proxima.

The sideroom's deserted. It looks like it might've originally served as a conference room of some sort, but has since fallen into use as a miscellaneous storage space.

Proxima presses a palm to a button by the doorway and heavy pneumatic doors slide closed. Grim only has a second to gauge their thickness, but they certainly look to be somewhere in the vicinity of 'No One Can Hear You Scream'?

"Since you first arrived here, I've sort of felt like I was going crazy." Proxima mutters to herself as she paces back and forth in front of aforementioned door. "Like... there was something so obvious to me that nobody else in the whole world was getting?"

Grim stays quiet at Proxima speaks, not obviously on edge, but ready to move if Proxima decides to attack, waits for Proxima to get to her point.

She eventually stops pacing, and pivots to lock eyes with Grim.

"Father said that I should apologize to you."

"I wouldn't expect one, I can't say I would've reacted differently in your position."

Proxima's dire visage lightens slightly, a change halfway between a smile and a startle response.

She still has so much resentment broiling inside her but... she likes being understood.

"I'm not sorry for hating you. But I am sorry for... introducing doubt, regarding my priorities." It's a tortuously awkward statement, but it fulfills both of her Father's expectations: that she should apologize in some form, and that she should speak honestly when doing so. "I wanted to scare you. But... the truth, the absolute truth, is that my hatred for you could never outweigh my devotion to Him."

Deep breath. Body tensing at intervals, like a spring under strain amidst a crash of gears.

"I will not harm you, sister." Pause. Breath. "Not as long as you serve my Father loyally. And in fact I will... protect you. The same way I protect the others. The same way I would have protected my brother Ebony, if I'd been there to intervene."

She lets herself give a grateful smile, inclines her head.

"Thank you, sister," she says, a little hesitant as she says 'sister'. (And it feels strange to say that, but in a good way.) "I- will not give you a reason to harm me," she promises, and considers her words before continuing. "I do not doubt the outcome would've been vastly different if you had been there to intervene." There's no hint that she's trying to suck up to Proxima, nothing in her words but pure face. She pauses. "And- I cannot apologise for surviving. But I am sorry for the pain I caused you." She's nothing but sincere. She might not understand the pain Proxima felt, but she can at least recognise when someone is feeling it.

Her eyes start to water up. She takes a single unsteady step forward and breaks eye contact by lowering her head. Her mouth opens and closes, but no legible words come out.

Then she surges across the remaining distance between them... and wraps Grim in a vicious hug?

"Damn you." Raspy words, spoken from a face buried against her new sister's shoulder.

Proxima's whole body shakes. Her fingertips, splayed wide, dig into Grim's back almost hard enough to draw blood.