to protect and serve

[eudorapatch]

WHO: Detective Eudora Patch
WHAT: the face-to-face option for her network post, looking for clothes and ammo and other necessities, learning her environment by hitting the streets walkways
WHEN: whole month of July for most of it, though an immediate response to her network post would happen on the 15th, and a belated response can happen any time after that
WHERE: room 020, but also kind of everywhere?
WARNINGS: anything in response to her network post may contain detailed and blunt discussions of violence/death/dying - anything at all with her runs a small risk of her at least thinking about her own death. if this will upset you, please tell me so before we begin so that i can avoid it.

NOTES: I don't like brackets/action-spam. It's not natural for me to write that way, and I much prefer prose. I can read it just fine (but please don't make your bracket text super tiny) and don't mind if styles don't match. So you're welcome to tag me in action-spam, but just be prepared for my responses to come back in prose.

option A
After Patch makes her post to the network, she feels an odd moment of disconnect. What if no one responds? What if she is the only one feeling overwhelmed and out of her depth? What if she just aired her trauma, and she's the only one going through it?

Well, if she did, then she did. Can't change it, and wouldn't even if she could. Because she might not be alone. It might help someone else. Which makes it worth it.

She goes to the door of her room, unlocks it, opens it. It closes again on its own. Right. She opens it again, waits for it to try and close, and sticks her hand in the way. She's prepared to yank it back quickly, lest she lose some fingers, but the door halts its progress, presumably in response to whatever is blocking it. That'll work. She comes up with a little squat metal container that used to hold something, but now is only home to a vaguely musty smell. With that placed along the recessed metal track, it leaves the door to room 020 open about a foot, unable to lock, and accessible to anyone walking past.

option B
She doesn't have much. The clothes on her back, main weapon, ankle weapon, and a few extra clips of ammunition. Plus the junk from her pockets. Never thought she'd see the day when taking stock of her possessions would include a mental tally of 'eight mint lifesavers' but the universe seems determined to keep tossing up hurdles in her path. Well, bring it on. High school track about to pay off in a big way. Metaphorically. She checks her weapons, tightens her ponytail, and runs her fingers over the gentle ridges and valleys of her badge where it's resting under her shirt, like a talisman. Time to go learn her new neighbourhood.

option C
Also time to go shopping. If you can call it that. Some extra clothing would be a good start. Boots, jeans, and jacket she can make do. But a spare shirt, a change of underwear, and something to sleep in, that would be nice. Toothbrush, hair brush, maybe a book. Anything to keep her occupied.

option !
Wildcard! You know how this works. Come at me, bro! :3

15 July
afternoon - Ben comes to talk about how he knows Patch - room 020
also afternoon - Drake stops by for more cheery death talk - room 020
late evening - Cole waits until everyone else has come and gone - room 020

16 July
afternoon - finding out just what a tiny thing Peter is - R & D

Comments

A

[benhargreeves]

Ben had responded to her network post without pausing to think things through. Usually, he isn't impulsive like that, but this is the woman who saved Klaus, talking about dying. It must have struck some kind of nerve. So, in his hurry to respond, he'd forgotten that she doesn't know what he looks like, she doesn't know he was there at the time, maybe she doesn't know anything about him apart from his name.

And facing the prospect of trying to explain all that through a tiny communication device... well, it's just all wrong. Maybe it wouldn't feel that way if he grew up in a world with different technology, who knows? In any case, he sends a quick follow-up video to her, saying he would be there soon to explain. So he makes his way to the room number she'd mentioned in the video, and on the walk there, composes himself, thinking over what he wants to say.

Ben raps his knuckles against the open door even as he is slouching in, hood up, looking wary and solemn.

"Hey, Detective Patch? Sorry for the weird reply, before."

He pauses, visibly considering before offering his hand to shake and saying, by way of explanation, "Ben Hargreeves."

Ben looks around, finds the nearest suitable place to sit or lean, and does so. He wants it clear that this is a conversation that is going to take a little while, and have some weight to it. Though she could probably piece that together from the context. Folding his arms across his chest, Ben sighs.

"When I sent that video, I'd forgotten that last time we were in a room together, you couldn't see me or hear me because I was a ghost. I was at the motel."

He knows what it is like, to die. Knows she won't need him to explain which motel, and when. She'll know.

[eudorapatch]

She's about to tell him that he doesn't have to apologize for the reply, but then he introduces himself, and that sure is a thing. Ben is the alternate name for Number Six, and Number Six is dead. She knows this. Diego might have spared her the details, but she knows the broad strokes. Very very dead, and long before she found Klaus, long before Patch and Diego ever crossed paths, long before she even graduated from high school, let alone the Academy. She nods her head, slowly, and shakes his hand, mumbling something about it being nice to meet him while she tries to wrap her mind around it all. He could be here from the moment of his death, like her, and she's just coming to grips with that thought when he keeps going.

That's just. Yeah. That's a thing. Patch opens her mouth to ask him how, but then closes it. No. She opens her mouth again to ask him why, but then closes it. Finally, she presses her lips together, lets her cheeks puff out with a held breath of air, and then lets it out in a noisy rush. Right.

She goes to the door, very deliberately moves the metal container so that it can close and lock, sets it carefully on the desk. Then she looks at Ben, opens her mouth, closes it. She needs to stop doing that. It's incredibly unprofessional, and probably very rude. Ben is on the couch, and while there is room for her to sit next to him, she doesn't want to. It's not him. It's her way of processing. Usually, she sits close to people to establish a connection, to make a bridge of physical proximity. At this moment, she wants a little bit of distance. So she moves a little stiffly to the desk and its lone chair, grabbing it and dragging it across the floor. About half way there, it occurs to her that she should have just picked it up. Less noise. Oh well. She sits down, her chair still a few feet from Ben. This time, when she opens her mouth, a few stuttering sounds of an aborted attempt to say something manage to get out, then she clears her throat, licks her lips. She doesn't even know where to start.

Maybe he will. "Start at the beginning?"

[benhargreeves]

Ben doesn't seem surprised or at all bothered by Patch's long confused silence. He waits, arms folded, face quiet and pensive. There is a stillness to him that is patient, and - though Patch doesn't know it yet - kind. He watches her close the door, struggle to find what to say, drag a chair over and sit. She's handling it a lot better than he'd expected. A lot better than most people probably would. Ben likes her already.

When she tells him to start at the beginning, he takes a moment to really consider where the beginning would be. What is the relevant information that she needs? What can he say that it might be a comfort or a help for her to hear?

"We were all in the Academy together - Klaus, Diego, me, the rest of our siblings. But things..." A pause here, as for a moment the tables are flipped and Ben is the one struggling to get words out, "...happened, and I died when I was sixteen. Klaus - he's the one you saved - can see ghosts. So I've been with him since then. Trying to keep him safe and out of trouble. When he got kidnapped, I came with. I knew there was nothing I could really do to help him, I just... didn't want him to be alone. So I was there when you showed up."

And, by implication, he had been there just a few moments later when she had been ambushed and shot. He doesn't say that out loud, though. He has some small amount of tact. Rubbing at his cheek, he continues, "I'm sorry to ambush you with all of this. When I saw your video... when I saw it, I knew I had to thank you, and I also realized that if- if somebody had been there, when I died, and seen it happen, and they didn't tell me, I would feel-"

There's a long pause, ending in a shrug, and a quiet conclusion: "-sort of, like, violated, I guess."

[eudorapatch]

"I remember that. Being in high school and hearing about what happened to you on the news. No details, but there was a lot of speculation." It's hardly the same as seeing bits of her life while living in the realm of ghosts (and how fucking insane is it that that's real?) but it's still some tiny glimpse she already has of his life, and its ending. So she shares it.

Then she stops, because she's not sure where else to go. Lot of thoughts. Most of them aren't all that great. Most of them are very painful.

She leans forward, which does not exactly put her in his personal space, but it's not leaning away from him. So it's something. Her elbows brace on her knees, and the fingers of her hands lace together, and she thinks about it. Ben doesn't seem to mind the silence. "Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't exactly your choice to be there when I died, but you didn't have to say anything. You could have kept quiet and avoided an awkward conversation, and I wouldn't have known." Not that she's sure it's really a help, yet. She's not sure what she feels, full stop.

Thinking about her own death, that's still rough. Thinking about the broader strokes of what he's said, that's much easier. "So ghosts... Does Klaus-- does he make them? Or are they just... there... all the time?"

[benhargreeves]

Ben rubs the back of his neck, nods once to acknowledge he has heard her and understands what she is doing. He had given his disclosure, and now she's giving hers. It probably makes him a bad person or something, but he's glad that, apparently, Diego hadn't told her any more than what was on the news. Diego never talking about it probably wasn't very healthy and Ben knows his death had fucked up his siblings - some more than others - but the shred of privacy is a relief nonetheless.

She's a lot more gracious about it than he probably would have been, if the tables were turned. Ben can see how she would have been a good detective. Good at communicating. Calm even in the face of a crisis. What a shame. What a waste, that she had died the way she did.

"I liked what you said in that video. About us all helping each other. I wanted you to know you aren't alone. And that if - you wanted to talk about dying, with somebody who's done it too, and who was there..." He gives a small gesture towards himself, offering himself up. She had gone on the network and told everyone she was willing to listen. She deserves to have the same offer made to her, emphatically. "And I think... it's probably gonna hard for Diego or Klaus to talk about it with you without it hurting them a lot. So I want you to know, you can talk to me, and not worry about hurting me."

Because as much as he's already coming to like her, Patch is a stranger to him. Not a former lover, like she is for Diego, and not the person who saved him from torture and almost certain death and got killed in the process, like she is for Klaus. Ben fully believes he can hear anything she has to say without breaking down. He is offering his ability to be a little detached as a resource, should she want it.

The question she asks first is not what he expected - much more functional than personal. He wants very much to answer it to her satisfaction, but...

"I, uh don't- really know."

He hadn't been prepared for things to get so theoretical and abstract so fast. But he does his best to generalize his personal experience and explain:

"I could be in places without Klaus. The house, mostly. Mostly at night. But I wasn't... around, all the time. And being near him was always... different. I can't describe it. I don't know if it's because of his powers, though, or because he's my family."

All this talking about the mechanics of being a ghost is making Ben a little light-headed; he folds his arms over his chest again, fingers tracing out the textures and folds of his jacket, the hoodie underneath. Pressing in, reminding him he's corporeal, now.

"I'm sorry. Just because I spent half my existence as a ghost doesn't mean I'm an expert on how they work. Nobody hands out a manual. And I'm not sure I really count as a usual case."

[eudorapatch]

Diego has discussed his feelings (something that would probably shock his siblings to hear) but not the details. The details were less important to Patch at the time, anyway. The details of what happened could only serve to slake her own curiosity, they wouldn't do Diego any good. The pain of the loss, the grief, and helping him to process it, even all those years later - that had been far more important to her. It had also been almost more than Diego could handle. He didn't do so well with loss and grief.

Diego isn't here, though. Ben is. And Patch watches him start to fidget and knows oh so well the telltale signs of someone shutting down. "It's all right. You don't have to talk about it. I probably shouldn't have asked. It's just-- it's a lot. Ghosts. That's... everything I knew about death and some things I knew about life, things I knew to be true, and it turns out that they're not. The people I've lost-- It just. It opens up a lot of uncomfortable avenues of thought. I don't know what I'm certain of any more. Maybe nothing." She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh. "None of which is your fault. You're just being honest. I'm grateful for that." Maybe there's nothing she can count on to be knowable. Maybe everything is just... maybe it's all bull shit.

"Thank you for the offer. I appreciate that you have no personal investment, but also know what happened, but even still, it's not an easy thing to offer. The thing is... I don't want to be the reason you have to keep something from your brothers. You know Diego, probably better than I do. It doesn't matter if he won't talk to me himself, if he knows that we've talked, he'll want to know what I said to you. He'll want the details. He'll be incapable of accepting that he's out of the loop, even if it's a loop he doesn't actually want to be in." She shakes her head. "I can't do that to you. To either of you."

[benhargreeves]

"Oh, I should've- it's not like everybody becomes a ghost when they die. I probably should have led with that."

This conversation is not going in the way he expected at all, and Ben hadn't really braced himself for anything this metaphysical. Still, he can see that Patch is grappling with a lot of Big Questions and he rushes to clarify a few things, lest she get the wrong idea.

"Detective Patch, I get it if you don't want to... walk down those avenues, but honestly, I don't feel like me being around invalidates any way of thinking about life and death or- if you were maybe religious, or stuff like that. Other than... if you were thinking death was the absolute end, do not pass go, no such thing as the afterlife. In which case, yeah, that one's off the table. But everything else, it's just - a couple new questions, maybe some different questions. Nothing all that drastic."

Ben really does believe that's true. His face is earnest and a little concerned, now, and he laces his hands together in his lap. He thinks about saying something about how he and his siblings were already breaking all the previous rules about life and death, what with the spontaneous fatherless births and all, but he changes his mind. That would probably only be stirring things up and making them worse. Best to leave it be unless she asks anything else.

Her reasons for not letting herself get the benefit of talking about stuff are... to be honest, not great, to Ben's mind. A little furrow forms between his dark brows.

"Well. The way I see it, you've got some options. You can decide not talk to me, because you realized you don't want to, and that's cool. You can decide to talk to me, and that it's none of Diego's business, and that's fine, too. I appreciate what you're saying, but I'm comfortable with keeping things from Diego. You won't be driving a wedge, or anything. Or, option three is, you can decide to talk to me, and then tell me what is and isn't okay to pass along to Diego, if that would be easier for you."

Ben's head tilts to the side a little. All these years of trying to coach Klaus into better life choices has left him with an inclination towards giving advice, whether or not someone has asked for it. It's also left him primed to see avoidance, and he's wondering if Patch is a self-abnegating saint, or if she is maybe using Diego's fragility as an excuse to avoid confronting her death. Either option is a little concerning.

"Mostly, I kinda hope you'll make that call based on your needs, and not only on Digeo's hypothetical feelings."

And then, because he doesn't want Patch feeling pressured into giving an answer right away (hopefully she'll think it over and consider herself a little bit more in the process), he goes on immediately to ask:

"I'm guessing nobody's... talked to you about who it was that killed you, and what they were doing, and the whole story. If... you'd like some context, I could tell you?"

A- Later that evening.

[killedwithlove]

Cole gives everyone else time to visit, to talk, to sort out the complicated things of the siblings and Patch enough that they can all live with it for a little bit longer.

When he comes to find Patch, he just looks in through the gap, clinging to the edge of the door and slightly uncertain, because this isn't just about someone else.

"That was brave. I didn't reply, because I don't like the electric talking and writing, but I know what you did and how it helped others."

[eudorapatch]

Patch doesn't notice him until he speaks. People have been walking past her door all day, some coming to see her, many others not. She's tried to tune out that little flash of shadow and light on her periphery. When he does speak, though, she puts down the device in her hands and turns in the desk chair, facing the door.

"Thank you." A beat to consider his posture, the tone of his voice. Is it the hand-on-the-door comment? Has the earmarks of one. "Everyone else has been very brave, as well. Talking about their own experiences - on the broadcast, and here in private." He could, too, if he wants to. "Would you like to come in?"

[killedwithlove]

"Would you like me to come in?" Cole feels ambivalent about places, has only a nominal concept of privacy and doesn't want to hurt Patch by talking about things that will hurt her.

He thinks maybe she needs some context. "I didn't die, but Cole did and now I'm Cole, and I remember dying. But I experience lots of people's deaths, just not usually so.... intensely. I can feel your death, but I'm trying not to because it's an inside voice thing, not outside voice."

[eudorapatch]

Patch is about to tell him that she wants him to do whatever will make him feel the most comfortable. He can come in, and they can talk. Or he can come in, and they can be quiet. Or he can leave, and she won't bother him, and he can always come back later when he feels like he wants to.

Then he keeps talking.

Today is just going to be a hell of a day, apparently.

"I-- Yes, Cole. Yes. I think I would like you to come in and talk with me, if that sounds all right to you."

Deep breath. Then another. She can do this. It's easy. You just-- decide you're going to be able to handle it, and the you find a way to handle it. Right. No problem.

[killedwithlove]

"You don't have to handle it," Cole says as he wanders in, letting the door close by nudging aside the box. "I know you want to handle it, but you don't need to. When you cry, your body purges toxins. I learned that with the Fleet. It's actually your body trying to cleanse itself, so it's good for you."

He wanders closer, swaying on his feet. "I'm an empath. And telepath. With... psychometry?" He sounds unsure. "My body is a manifested spirit, so I talk to the inside and outside of everything at the same time, but most people only talk from outside to outside."

He's trying to explain.

[eudorapatch]

Well, that's just... deeply, deeply, deeply unsettling. Though he might not be able to control it. He might not even realize it.

Patch sits in the desk chair, which is still pulled close to the couch after her visit with Ben, and gestures for Cole to take the couch if he wants to. "So... are you able to control it? Or do you just-- do that, speak to the inside and outside of me at the same time, without meaning to? Is it a choice you make? Or is it like-- opening your eyes. You can't pick what you see, and what you don't see?" She's trying to understand it, but she's not sure she'll be able to. He's reading her mind. Which means he knows everything she's thinking, anyway. Shit.

"I could-- I could choose not to speak. Or I could plug my ears to keep from hearing something. Are you able to do that with the inside of people?"

A

[braveoff]

Drake headed for Patch's room as soon as he sent off that last text -- and now he's craving a good cup of coffee, but nothing can be done about that -- and finds the door has been left ajar for potential visitors. That's him, right? Although it's a clear invitation he still knocks politely, peeking inside without pushing the door open wider or actually sticking his head in.

"Detective Patch?" Only then he realizes he didn't tell her his name, and text means she won't recognize him immediately, so follows it up with, "It's Drake Holloway."

[eudorapatch]

The name matches, and that might not be a ton to go on, but it's enough. She's got to start somewhere.

"Mister Holloway. Yes, I'm Detective Patch." It's not far to walk over to the door, so she does so, keying the door open the rest of the way and hooking the container with her foot to bring it inside. "Please, come in. Apple chip?" There's a little bowl of them on the table by the couch. She'd grabbed a bunch of fruit from the welcome party, after the disaster with the fireworks robot, and drying it out had been the only way to keep it for more than a week or so. Well, not the only way, but the only way she knew. Someone a little more enterprising could have probably made jam or something.

[braveoff]

How very hospitable. Drake smiles as he steps inside, and when he spots the bowl he tilts his head to ask if that's permission to sit on the couch as well. When she nods in the affirmative he heads in that direction.

"Just Drake is fine, if you're okay with being less formal." She does refer to herself as Detective, after all... which could extend to him as well but he hasn't heard it in over three years at this point. "I'll call you whatever you prefer, but I hope nobody's giving you trouble for saying you're a cop? The last place I was in, I wound up keeping it pretty quiet even though I wasn't undercover anymore."

[eudorapatch]

"Dora, then," she says, indicating herself with a sweep of her hand. Since they're being less formal. She sits on the other end of the couch, and takes an apple chip for herself, because she knows it's easier to trust something if you're not the first to take it.

The question about being given trouble, it's not shocking. She knows not everyone trusts the badge, and she can't even blame them. Still, the idea of hiding it never crossed her mind. Good to have the confirmation that he's also a cop, though. There seem to be a fair number of them. She wonders if he subscribes to the Pratt school of thought regarding paperwork.

"No one has said anything negative or inflammatory about it so far. I would understand if someone has a hard time trusting me for it, though. They don't know me yet. I'm proud of what I do-- did, with my life. I'd like to think I made a difference. Even if it ends up causing some problems for me here, I think hiding it will just cause different problems for me in the long run." Which is entirely possible, really. Some people do have faith in the system, though. She wants them to know that she's here. She wants those who are wary to judge her by her actions, and maybe come to trust in time.

Right now, though, Drake doesn't seem to mind that she's a cop, and he's the one in front of her. "Undercover work. Is that how you-- got your gut shot?" She could beat around the bush, but he said he was coming here for a conversation, and he looks like he can handle it.

[braveoff]

"Dora," he echoes, following her lead and taking an apple chip as well. He's a little curious about how she made them, but that's less important than the fact that they're pretty good... and that she's talking about her life and values. Drake nods his understanding of her position, and tries to figure out how to answer her question. It's not really as simple as yes or no.

"Kind of. I was looking into the murder of a dealer I knew from working undercover, on my own time. Pogo wasn't the type that Seattle PD would waste resources looking for, but somebody else really didn't want me finding the body. I almost died right there." He shakes his head a little -- that whole situation was a mess, he never should have agreed to help in the first place and look where it had gotten him. A zombie stuck dealing with Blaine, that piece of shit. Oh well. He's had two years to come to terms with that bullshit, and never regretted how he'd actually died. Just some of the choices that led to it. "I didn't go out on the job either, exactly, but at least I was protecting people. Makes it a lot easier to cope with, you know?"

[eudorapatch]

She knows a Pogo. Or, well, she knows of a Pogo. Definitely not the same Pogo. Moving on.

She follows along with his story. There are holes in it. He knows that. He also must know that she knows that, but he's still sharing. She could skirt around it for a while and try to slowly feel the situation out, or she could be direct. "The things you're not saying, whatever they are. You don't have to tell me. We can still talk in the abstract. Or we can talk about my life. If you want to share it, though, I'll listen, and I won't judge you for it, and I can keep someone's confidence." Just to put it all out there. She punctuates her statement with a decisive bite of her apple chip.

Then she continues, so he can completely ignore the offer if that's his preference, and have something else to respond to.

"It does make it easier to cope, yes. I got to die during an actual rescue of a kidnap victim. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd rather have survived. But it's how I wanted to go out, if in my sleep the day after my hundredth birthday wasn't an option." She pops the rest of the chip into her mouth. "Still sucks." Which is something she hasn't properly put into words, until this moment.

! - for itsnotaonesie - on the 16th

[eudorapatch]

Immediately following a very brief chat over the network, Patch is on her feet and out her door and heading to R&D to get a good look at Peter Parker. There must be a reasonable explanation for it. There just must be. Her mother is sometimes mistaken for her sister, when she makes herself up and they go out together. Some people just look way too young. It's a thing, right?

That'll explain it, and once she sees it, she'll feel better. Also, wrench, and plumbering. Something slightly normal. She could use some normal, after the day she had yesterday.

He's not immediately visible when she enters the large space, but she doesn't let that deter her. "Peter? It's Detective Patch." She resists the urge to say knock knock, the way her father would. Mostly cause it still hurts to think of him.

[itsnotaonesie]

He's probably not immediately visible because he's hunched over one of the 3D printer-like machines that's he's partly taken apart to tinker with. As soon as he hears someone calling his name he straightens up and looks around, waving Patch over once he spots her. Also he's hoping to hell he hadn't somehow said something to piss her off earlier.

"Oh, hey! Over here. Sorry about the mess, I haven't really had a ton of time to actually clean this place up."

Maybe if he hadn't gotten distracted with trying to fix everything in the room, he would have had plenty of time to clean. But shhh.

Honestly, he probably doesn't look too impressive at first glance. Though he's built significantly sturdier than someone his age and size would normally be, he's got a hoodie on that's a size or two too big for him. He's also just not that tall in general. He doesn't cut a very imposing silhouette, to say the least.

[eudorapatch]

Nothing to piss her off, no. If anything, she's mad at the universe in general, because he's just so small in person, and that's not a trick of the communications devices, that voice is young. It certainly doesn't help that she's five foot seven without the comfortable stacked heel on her boots.

"It's fine, it's-- it's not messy. You're working. It's... productive clutter."

Her mind is a noisy and shocked and hurt and angry place to be, and fuck it, she's just going to ask. So, with no run-up whatsoever: "Peter. How old are you?"

[itsnotaonesie]

Yep, he's about the same height as her. This is fine.

He's about to make a comment on his 'productive clutter', but her question catches him off guard. A second later it dawns on him just why she'd been giving him that horrified look earlier, and everything else just kind of clicks into place. He winces slightly, debates for a second whether or not he wants to try to bullshit her and tell her he's like twenty-one or something. There's no way she'd believe that. He's a terrible liar to begin with, nobody would believe that.

"Sixte- wait. August, September, October..." He trails off, counting months off on his fingers and frowning in thought. HMMMM. "Seventeen. Or almost seventeen. I kinda lost track of time in the last place I was stuck? There was this whole thing with gods and killer robots-- sorry, getting off track. I'm seventeen."

[eudorapatch]

He's a child. He's a child, taken to this horrible place, stuck with the lot of them and no immediate hope of getting home. More than that, he's a child who was drawn to her post about death. He's a child who described his job, his job, as being in law enforcement, Special Forces. He's not even old enough to buy a lottery ticket.

She wants to hug him. It's a sudden and almost vicious instinct, ripping through her, crippling, this need to wrap her arms around him and tell him that it'll be all right, even if she doesn't know how to make it all right. She's just standing there, shaking her head. She needs to stop that.

"You. You said your aunt wasn't happy with your job. Your Special Forces job?" Everything that's coming out of her mouth just feels wrong. This should not be the world anyone lives in. "What does that-- what... happened to you, Peter?"

[itsnotaonesie]

Hey he could just be one of those creepy morbid kids that's into like weird occult shit and death and whatever!

He's not. He's totally not one of those kids, and right now he's a little uncomfortable if only because he's not used to people fussing over him like this. The last thing he'd wanted to do was make a complete stranger worried about him. Good job Peter, you've already beefed it and you didn't even have to try.

It's fine, he's got this. He takes a deep breath and holds his hands up in that everything is totally fiiiiiine sort of way.

"Okay. It's a long story? I'll try to, um, condense it, I guess? So, where I'm from, there's this... it's basically kind of a special forces group, the Avengers. A lot of the members have like, powers, abilities, just straight up super human stuff, right? They handle things that your average law enforcement can't. Like say, alien invasions. So, I have some ah, pretty weird abilities, so I was recruited. Turned it down for a while, kinda ended up getting drug into it anyway. It's a... whole thing. But yeah, that's uh. That's it."

That's definitely not everything, but he doesn't really know this lady even if she does seem pretty cool. But seriously it's fiiiiine he's fine everything is fine.