[ He fidgets under the look she gives him, and when she finally speaks, her answer doesn't quite sit right with him. But it's not like Peter's, like, a fish biologist or a fish doctor or a fish whatever. Old age gets the best of everyone, he knows, and if that's it, he supposes that's just...
... it.
Peter frowns again, his hand still smoothing back and forth in the wide expanse between the whale-shark's eyes. The words of gratitude are met with a shrug. ]
I mean, you kinda brought me here, so.
[ "It's not like I had a choice," is the implication, though his voices holds no resentment for it. ]
no subject
... it.
Peter frowns again, his hand still smoothing back and forth in the wide expanse between the whale-shark's eyes. The words of gratitude are met with a shrug. ]
I mean, you kinda brought me here, so.
[ "It's not like I had a choice," is the implication, though his voices holds no resentment for it. ]
What happens now?