[ Give it a few years, and Peter’s probably on-track to be taller than Mace, who tops off at a solid six feet and not much further. Thinking of him as little, though, that’d been an entirely subconscious thing on Mace’s part— stemming not from Peter’s physicality but rather, his age. Young Gumby could be the size of the Chrysler building, Mace’d probably still be calling him kid.
He doesn’t realize that hot chocolate is what causes it, but Mace does catch that grimace, though; and it’s enough to get a glance out of him, despite his dedication to keeping his eyes on the road, as driving a vehicle this old is still a fairly new experience for him. It’s concern, as well as a swift double-check to make sure Peter isn’t injured beyond the chill settling into the kid’s fingers as he settles back into the passenger seat. Half an hour’s plenty long enough to get seriously cold in the extremities in weather like this.
No visible harm, but. Mace better make sure. ]
I know where the house is, yeah — should be there in about ten minutes, no sweat. When you say creepy midnight stroll, though.
[ And Mace’s head tilts slightly so he can glance into the side mirror, this time, because something new’s just popped up in his line of sight. His expression is still composed, nothing beyond a divot between his brows, but a muscle twitches subtly in his jaw as he turns back to the road ahead. The car picks up in speed, the engine giving a stuttering growl before obeying the press of Mace’s foot against the gas.
Should be there in eight minutes, max.
( Christ. Where the hell did that thing — ) ]
Anything give you any trouble? [ And it might be noticeable here that Mace doesn’t say anybody. Because in the distance behind them is something that looks very, very much like a hulking silhouette of a deer following the car — and although the windows are closed, the heater sighing loudly through the vents ...
The sudden, faint echo of a steady clop-clop somehow manages to reach their ears. ]
no subject
He doesn’t realize that hot chocolate is what causes it, but Mace does catch that grimace, though; and it’s enough to get a glance out of him, despite his dedication to keeping his eyes on the road, as driving a vehicle this old is still a fairly new experience for him. It’s concern, as well as a swift double-check to make sure Peter isn’t injured beyond the chill settling into the kid’s fingers as he settles back into the passenger seat. Half an hour’s plenty long enough to get seriously cold in the extremities in weather like this.
No visible harm, but. Mace better make sure. ]
I know where the house is, yeah — should be there in about ten minutes, no sweat. When you say creepy midnight stroll, though.
[ And Mace’s head tilts slightly so he can glance into the side mirror, this time, because something new’s just popped up in his line of sight. His expression is still composed, nothing beyond a divot between his brows, but a muscle twitches subtly in his jaw as he turns back to the road ahead. The car picks up in speed, the engine giving a stuttering growl before obeying the press of Mace’s foot against the gas.
Should be there in eight minutes, max.
( Christ. Where the hell did that thing — ) ]
Anything give you any trouble? [ And it might be noticeable here that Mace doesn’t say anybody. Because in the distance behind them is something that looks very, very much like a hulking silhouette of a deer following the car — and although the windows are closed, the heater sighing loudly through the vents ...
The sudden, faint echo of a steady clop-clop somehow manages to reach their ears. ]