[ It's the one thing all professionally paranoid (former? sort of?) hunters love seeing after the turning point of a drawn out war between terrified humans with guns and the supernatural and technically still in the middle of the conflict upon returning to whatever passes for home these days — something off about the premises, the curtain in the window of the door not quite where it was when one left, the indefinable disturbance in the air of the house. Like the quality of light has changed. Like another terrible twist is lurking around the corner from all the preceding terrible twists.
Peter has been out of communication for a few days, and that is totally unremarkable from him, perhaps even a bonus in some people's eyes. Well. In most people's eyes. ... Everyone's eyes? The man simply won't die, so what are the odds he got picked off by any of Monroe's twitchy newbies?
Then again, the odds are always pretty fucked up for them. What are the odds, for example, that there's a young man on the floor of Chris Argent's kitchen, his back against the cabinet beneath the sink, one chair of the table knocked over and lying askew from the sprawl of one of his legs, eyes shut, shallow breathing. A couple of sluggishly healing knife wounds, but not much blood anywhere for a goddamn change; he must have come in after he finished doing most of the bleeding. His hand is resting over what is probably some other injury on his stomach.
And it is, of course, Peter. A much younger Peter, just a few years older than Scott and the others are now. Back in those days (and why isn't he there instead of this kitchen), he hadn't been known for being aggressive and this is an all too picture perfect scene to emphasize it. That he hasn't even opened his eyes yet either makes the situation more dire, or more suspicious. They probably hadn't interacted much all those years ago, but Chris knows him, doesn't he? Knows how he works, how he is. Besides, there's always so much bullshit that this could be, some kind of illusion, whatever. ]
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Peter has been out of communication for a few days, and that is totally unremarkable from him, perhaps even a bonus in some people's eyes. Well. In most people's eyes. ... Everyone's eyes? The man simply won't die, so what are the odds he got picked off by any of Monroe's twitchy newbies?
Then again, the odds are always pretty fucked up for them. What are the odds, for example, that there's a young man on the floor of Chris Argent's kitchen, his back against the cabinet beneath the sink, one chair of the table knocked over and lying askew from the sprawl of one of his legs, eyes shut, shallow breathing. A couple of sluggishly healing knife wounds, but not much blood anywhere for a goddamn change; he must have come in after he finished doing most of the bleeding. His hand is resting over what is probably some other injury on his stomach.
And it is, of course, Peter. A much younger Peter, just a few years older than Scott and the others are now. Back in those days (and why isn't he there instead of this kitchen), he hadn't been known for being aggressive and this is an all too picture perfect scene to emphasize it. That he hasn't even opened his eyes yet either makes the situation more dire, or more suspicious. They probably hadn't interacted much all those years ago, but Chris knows him, doesn't he? Knows how he works, how he is. Besides, there's always so much bullshit that this could be, some kind of illusion, whatever. ]