Peter
the seasons are turning into goodbyes I can live through
Her laugh, soft and breathy, draws a more proper smile to Peters lips. He doesn’t quite understand what exactly is funny, it sounded so strange to him. There were more important things to worry about, weren’t there? He does look down at his own hands though, conscious of the patchwork skin covering them. There are definitely more important things to worry about than dirt.
There is something almost desperate in her next question, something that pulls Peters brows together and keeps his gaze locked on the crimson pool they’re sitting by. He hasn’t made a big deal about hiding what he was, hasn’t really seen the point, but this seems important to Evie. Seems like something he shouldn’t take lightly. ”I am. Do... do you want to see?” He offers, remembering that Rexanna had when they’d talked about it. His gaze moves back towards the red head, gauging her reaction, hoping he’d offered the right answer.
The interest in his words (not a story, not really) is a surprise, and Peter shifts now, letting himself relax, and grow more comfortable. ”I th-think she did. She had uh... fish parts.” He gestured to his own legs, trying to fill in the gaps in his explanation non-verbally. ”She was... she was sick, and then she wasn’t.” Truth be told, Peter still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened that night, he just knew she had recovered. It was really the only important part.
Peters inconsistent memory is interrupted by Evie holding out a smooth rock, then offering to teach him how to skip it, an offer that he nods to almost immediately. He’d never say no to learning something, even something as impossible sounding as skipping rocks.
