[ He has a bit of time before the sound of the shower makes straining to hear past it more effort than it's worth to eavesdrop the way werewolves can. Keep him there isn't so bad, depending on how Chris interprets that. The patching him up and giving him clothes and food can still be a precursor to more underhanded things, and Chris is the kind of human who has the nerve to pull that off. Would he, though? These are the things he thinks about in the shower, shuddering when the spray hits the wound directly.
Not, he's guessing, without giving Chris a reason, and fortunately/unfortunately, Peter doesn't have one at the moment. Even if he's back to one hundred percent tomorrow, he doubts the idea of slipping out some window in the middle of the night will prove any more appealing. Unless Chris gives him a reason.
He doesn't take very long to finish; undressing probably took the bulk of it, and then he has to drag his boots and complaining body down the hall, where thankfully, pyjama bottoms are easier to get on than fitted jeans are to get off when one has been stabbed in the stomach. When he come out to the living room, there's entirely too much in common with Isaac and the others, the slouching posture, the yawn he has one hand over, the imprecise way his wet hair has been combed, how he collapses bonelessly on the couch. It's not entirely deliberate, though he can smell the shirt belonged to another werewolf before him. Some of it is just him being this age. ]
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Not, he's guessing, without giving Chris a reason, and fortunately/unfortunately, Peter doesn't have one at the moment. Even if he's back to one hundred percent tomorrow, he doubts the idea of slipping out some window in the middle of the night will prove any more appealing. Unless Chris gives him a reason.
He doesn't take very long to finish; undressing probably took the bulk of it, and then he has to drag his boots and complaining body down the hall, where thankfully, pyjama bottoms are easier to get on than fitted jeans are to get off when one has been stabbed in the stomach. When he come out to the living room, there's entirely too much in common with Isaac and the others, the slouching posture, the yawn he has one hand over, the imprecise way his wet hair has been combed, how he collapses bonelessly on the couch. It's not entirely deliberate, though he can smell the shirt belonged to another werewolf before him. Some of it is just him being this age. ]
So Derek's busy.