PETER
When Peter has received his assignment for the strange gift exchange, his first feeling was relief. He hadn’t been too late. There was even a tremor of excitement, until he looked at what he was supposed to gift. Then there was confusion, and something approaching despair. He had asked for something simple, straightforward. And he had been asked for {/i}information{/i}. It took him some time to figure out how exactly to pull this off. One might even say he lost track of the day. In the end though, information only really meant one thing to Peter. Reconnaissance. So he chose a day where the sun was shining, it’s raus too weak still to actually dry anything up, but warm enough that people would be out, and he found a nice spot with a lot of traffic passing by. Peter has a gift for disappearing, for being quiet and unobtrusive and easy to ignore, and that was what he did now, blending into the background to let the day progress before him. His left had moved idly over a book resting on his legs, recording snippets of conversations, quick descriptions of birds passing by, the smells on the wind. Anything that caught his attention was recorded.
It was almost like he fell into a trance himself, eyes not focused on any one thing, face blank and distant. Occasionally he moves to shift his hand, or turn the page, but there was nothing more than that.
And oh, don’t you wanna love?
And don’t you wanna feel?
I remember, you were reckless, you were hungry
You were real
And don’t you wanna feel?
I remember, you were reckless, you were hungry
You were real
