[ For the sliver of mercy that it is, Peter has his head turned for the entire stretch of this enforced close proximity, probably listening for the sound of more trap mechanisms or any bullshit incoming from above. Not in a particularly thoughtful way, he would admit. Just the way any animal listens, because the more calculating parts of himself are caught up in other, less useful figurings.
Such as: Chris babbling a bit (by, you know, Argent standards), how they're basically the same height and even a similar build but Chris just seems sort of tougher somehow when Peter is using a bit of his strength to do this, and, of course, Chris waiting quite patiently to even start hinting that he could be let off the wall now. For Reasons, which Peter surmises probably have very little to do with him, but which allow him to enjoy the benefits nevertheless.
He waits a beat longer after the thanks, glancing blandly back at the other man, and his inhale, the slight expansion of his diaphragm against Chris' body, can probably be felt; it ends in a perfectly excusable sigh, however, as he leisurely slinks back to give Chris room, apparently satisfied there won't be a sneaky second round of projectiles. The weirdness of him couldn't possibly be stronger at the moment. If Scott had done this, there'd be apology with pragmatism. If Derek had done it, a mutual grimace guaranteeing they will never discuss it again. Peter stares at Chris with the corners of his mouth turned up cheerfully, which neither the thanks nor the circumstances that necessitated it should warrant. Unless you're a little shit. ]
I've collected a few hunter arrows, actually. I just figured, if I catch them, they're mine.
[ Nothing particularly funny about that, yet Peter grins to himself as he deliberately looks away, almost in false modesty, like it's a private joke. ]
Anyway, I'd thought that there would be something down here that I — that he — used to store some memories. Memories from around, well, my time. And some interaction between the attack, maybe being stabbed, and that item, might have caused a reversion. But I can't prove it.
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Such as: Chris babbling a bit (by, you know, Argent standards), how they're basically the same height and even a similar build but Chris just seems sort of tougher somehow when Peter is using a bit of his strength to do this, and, of course, Chris waiting quite patiently to even start hinting that he could be let off the wall now. For Reasons, which Peter surmises probably have very little to do with him, but which allow him to enjoy the benefits nevertheless.
He waits a beat longer after the thanks, glancing blandly back at the other man, and his inhale, the slight expansion of his diaphragm against Chris' body, can probably be felt; it ends in a perfectly excusable sigh, however, as he leisurely slinks back to give Chris room, apparently satisfied there won't be a sneaky second round of projectiles. The weirdness of him couldn't possibly be stronger at the moment. If Scott had done this, there'd be apology with pragmatism. If Derek had done it, a mutual grimace guaranteeing they will never discuss it again. Peter stares at Chris with the corners of his mouth turned up cheerfully, which neither the thanks nor the circumstances that necessitated it should warrant. Unless you're a little shit. ]
I've collected a few hunter arrows, actually. I just figured, if I catch them, they're mine.
[ Nothing particularly funny about that, yet Peter grins to himself as he deliberately looks away, almost in false modesty, like it's a private joke. ]
Anyway, I'd thought that there would be something down here that I — that he — used to store some memories. Memories from around, well, my time. And some interaction between the attack, maybe being stabbed, and that item, might have caused a reversion. But I can't prove it.