[ Cage doesn't look over at Simon at quiet German aside -- even though his eyes lose slight focus in concentration -- but he does when the knife is being loosened, a drop of a glance down that bounces right back to Quill's gentle pendulum above the vat of heat far below.

The presence of laugh lines aren't mirth, but as requested, sympathetic. ]

We get it, you didn't want to be that guy. Lucky for you, you don't have to be that guy. The one with the paint job.

[ The phrasing meanders, but the words are clipped. Efficient. Everyone's on a deadline. ]

We understand you couldn't have known what was in the boxes [ it's a heavy handed hint, slanted in tone, seeing as upside down communication steals nuance out of partially raised eyebrows, and he has no literal olive branches on him ] and as far as everyone here is concerned, it would be far more helpful to know who's doing the supplying in the first place.

Let's start there, before all the blood finishes rushing into your skull.