PETER
The question is casual, after all the huffing and puffing and brandishing of knives. Suspiciously so. Pet doesn’t quite blink, but his brows pull together, tightly enough that he squints helplessly. What man? Was he born yesterday, handing off chances like a babe with candy? ”I... don’t know.” There is an unearned certainty in his voice, despite the actual answer he’s given.
That she seems to recognize Adams name is not a surprise (see Important Man, above) but the exuberance that accompanies the recognition is immediately more than Pet expects. In fact, her laughter does more to cow him than her blade had, even if it is a joyful sound. He’d never learned to tel the difference between laughters, after all. That she knows his name only reinforces the uncertainty stretched over every bit of his frame, an extended hesitance overtaking him as he looks over her outstretched hand.
At first, her name sparks nothing, save for a distant itch, a memory more haze than anything else. A day in the mud. A baring of his soul the likes of which he hasn’t actually offered anyone else, bar Adam. ”You’re... something, uh, with Sunjata? Kind of?” He hadn’t understood the connection when he’d first been told it, didn’t understand it any better less than half remembered. Only then does he grasp her hand, not shaking it but holding it, his skin cool and uncomfortably misshapen by scars.
That she seems to recognize Adams name is not a surprise (see Important Man, above) but the exuberance that accompanies the recognition is immediately more than Pet expects. In fact, her laughter does more to cow him than her blade had, even if it is a joyful sound. He’d never learned to tel the difference between laughters, after all. That she knows his name only reinforces the uncertainty stretched over every bit of his frame, an extended hesitance overtaking him as he looks over her outstretched hand.
At first, her name sparks nothing, save for a distant itch, a memory more haze than anything else. A day in the mud. A baring of his soul the likes of which he hasn’t actually offered anyone else, bar Adam. ”You’re... something, uh, with Sunjata? Kind of?” He hadn’t understood the connection when he’d first been told it, didn’t understand it any better less than half remembered. Only then does he grasp her hand, not shaking it but holding it, his skin cool and uncomfortably misshapen by scars.
I’m sorry lover, I’m sorry I bring you down
Well these days I try, and these days I tend to lie
Well these days I try, and these days I tend to lie
