[ Peter gives her a pointed look, though it's masked behind his helmet. He feels strangely compelled to defend his teammates' abilities. (If he cared to admit it, it's because he's proud of them and this little ragtag team they've put together, but that sounds stupid. If asked, he'd say it was because they would kick his ass if he didn't say something in their favor.) ]

Please, they've got more skill than that. They wouldn't stab anyone they didn't mean to. I've seen Drax cut a tied-up hostage loose without even glancing at her. And I've seen Gamora throw a knife across a crowded room and nail a guy in the eye. It was awesome.

[ Clearly his lifestyle has given him a strange definition of "awesome." He reaches up to place a few more of the explosives closer to the ceiling. ]

'Sides, Drax cooks. I mean, not often? But he's pretty good. We got the food processor for him hopin' he'd cook some more, but he said he prefered the old-fashioned way. 'Least we know kitchen appliances can blow shit up, now. Thanks, Rocket.

[ For good measure, he places two bombs in the center of the wall, then steps back. ] Think we're good. You ready?