[ peter isn't running along with him, isn't running fast enough and he could feel the weight his legs couldn't carry this way. i need something, he thinks, and the boy quickly scans the street floors for something shiny, metal, it usually meant sharp but santa rosita's streets were almost perfectly spotless. his pockets? did he have anything in his pockets? only a pen and a bouncy ball at this point and he really needed to change that, opting for grabbing the pen and thinking if he smashed the tip hard enough into his palm he could penetrate skin—
he looks as dangerous as a school boy could get holding a fountain pen like a knife, about ready to hurt himself and let go of peter if it meant toget them out of here (without being seen? hard). luckily, the older boy is the one to bring aid to the table first, and it takes little time for falco to trust him on that. ]
—Ok.
[ he doesn't question certainty; falco pockets his pen and scrambles for peter's back like he would on colt's. ]
no subject
he looks as dangerous as a school boy could get holding a fountain pen like a knife, about ready to hurt himself and let go of peter if it meant toget them out of here (without being seen? hard). luckily, the older boy is the one to bring aid to the table first, and it takes little time for falco to trust him on that. ]
—Ok.
[ he doesn't question certainty; falco pockets his pen and scrambles for peter's back like he would on colt's. ]