Gamora blinks, a little surprised by his words. "If it would kill you and you return to where you were before, won't you die?" That's how it sounds, anyway. She's sure she doesn't know nearly enough about what he's speaking of, but she can at least assume as much.

She lowers the towel, having done all she can with it. What she needs is some dry cleaning. Too bad she hasn't seen any staff around, though she wouldn't trust them with her things, anyway.

"You're in no condition to fight. If we do find the ones responsible for putting us here, leave that to me." Don't underestimate green women, Sam. Gamora can more than hold her own.