( you know, it'd be a lot more reasonable for him to panic a bit more, without all the superpowers to help him float any threatening situation. Peter is a perfectly normal guy since arrival in Santa Rosita, which has been a trip and a half all on its own. he never thought he'd miss his powers but also had never figured there was a way to get rid of them. now that they're gone he feels uncentered and uneven, though it seems having powers has irreparably changed how he thinks and reacts to things. he's learned to face danger when it comes his way, and apparently it's hard to turn that off, even when you're suddenly squishy again.
he does keep a relatively level head in a potentially dangerous situation, though. talking to girls or trying to hide things he stammers like he's only just learned to talk, but life or death? he's had to navigate that delicate dance more times than he can remember. Peter knows the importance of not letting fear distract from what he needs to do. )
What is it? ( he squints at the dark spreading behind them, like maybe his eyes are just failing him (he does have to wear his glasses in Santa Rosita, after all) and there might be something he just isn't seeing. and sure enough, it does seem like something is pushing closer, a steady clip of something against the concrete.
Peter doesn't have many options, but there's a handle on the door, so he grabs that and winds the other arm around the chair, so he can keep eyes behind them. ) I'm good. ( and suddenly incredibly grateful he'd decided to agree to a ride. whatever was chasing them, Peter is pretty sure he didn't want to meet it alone in the open. )
no subject
he does keep a relatively level head in a potentially dangerous situation, though. talking to girls or trying to hide things he stammers like he's only just learned to talk, but life or death? he's had to navigate that delicate dance more times than he can remember. Peter knows the importance of not letting fear distract from what he needs to do. )
What is it? ( he squints at the dark spreading behind them, like maybe his eyes are just failing him (he does have to wear his glasses in Santa Rosita, after all) and there might be something he just isn't seeing. and sure enough, it does seem like something is pushing closer, a steady clip of something against the concrete.
Peter doesn't have many options, but there's a handle on the door, so he grabs that and winds the other arm around the chair, so he can keep eyes behind them. ) I'm good. ( and suddenly incredibly grateful he'd decided to agree to a ride. whatever was chasing them, Peter is pretty sure he didn't want to meet it alone in the open. )