[ When it's all said and done, and his Zune is back in his hands, Peter just settles down in a corner, somewhere, earbuds firmly in place while "The Rubberband Man" plays. He's exhausted and jittery, tenderized like a cheap steak, and there are more than a few smears of dried blood on his face and hands – though in Peter's defense, not all of that blood is his.
... that makes it better, right?
He's just— taking a breather, waiting for his second wind before he shuffles himself out of here. He'll definitely get out of here under his own power. He just needs to, you know, rest up a bit.
When the other guy approaches, Peter is at least polite enough to pull out one of the buds. Then, he offers a quick, tight-lipped smile. ]
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... that makes it better, right?
He's just— taking a breather, waiting for his second wind before he shuffles himself out of here. He'll definitely get out of here under his own power. He just needs to, you know, rest up a bit.
When the other guy approaches, Peter is at least polite enough to pull out one of the buds. Then, he offers a quick, tight-lipped smile. ]
I think I'm good, actually.