[ The thing about Peter, the potentially worst thing about Peter, is that so often, he doesn't actually know. Not for sure. He just comes along, or finds himself in a tough situation, and he goes to work like this, grasping at people's behaviors, reactions, tendencies, tics, so whether it's insinuating himself into the mental life of a banshee who doesn't know she's a banshee or trying to figure out how best to appeal to someone who has many reasons not to like him, he is so patient, so hardworking. He doesn't actually know about Allison. He only knows what Chris is now, where he can put his hands.
So his body accepts the push, sways forward with some exaggeration, never truly stumbling; he sighs loudly without really sounding put upon, going up the stairs as bid, still alert for any noises of hunters who might inconveniently interrupt this moment which he very much wants to be the one where Chris has lost sight of the bigger picture. ]
Chris, come on. You know, I can cook. If you actually stock your pantry with more than canned corn.
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So his body accepts the push, sways forward with some exaggeration, never truly stumbling; he sighs loudly without really sounding put upon, going up the stairs as bid, still alert for any noises of hunters who might inconveniently interrupt this moment which he very much wants to be the one where Chris has lost sight of the bigger picture. ]
Chris, come on. You know, I can cook. If you actually stock your pantry with more than canned corn.