oo1 // what fresh hell is this
[ action; for 503 Ricardo Street ]
[ Upon waking, Peter goes into quiet panic mode, staring at the person next to him and shoving himself out of bed about as fast as he can possibly manage. He's out of the bedroom and wandering around his house mere seconds later, eyes wide obviously in some form of shock.
This isn't New York. This isn't him.
But then who is it? There are pictures of him on the wall. It looks like he lives here, it looks like he's married, like he has kids, like he's done all these things. But he hasn't. Maybe he'd be more quick to sneak out of here if it just looked like he had been kidnapped, but this was something different. It was all wrong. He didn't even want to touch anything, lest it become even more real. As long as he didn't run into any of his so called family members, maybe it'd be okay. ]
[ open action; Ricardo Street ]
[ Stepping out the front door, he makes his way at least all the way to the end of Ricardo street, not looking any less confused as he goes. Nearly oblivious to everything around him, he's staring at the passing houses, and then ducking his face to the sidewalk. Being outside the house was supposed to make it better, but he only felt worse. What was with these houses, why did everything look so perfect?
Awkwardly avoiding contact as he walks by someone, he glanced at one more house, looking pointedly miserable. Peter was hideous at keeping his heart from being on his sleeve, and he tugged at his collared shirt, feeling completely out of place. ]
[ phone; later ]
[ Even though he's connected, there's an incredibly long pause. Peter's unsure about using a phone to connect to a city en masse, but it's about the only option he's got left. ]
Can anyone- [ another pause. ] Can anyone hear me?
I'm not supposed to be here. I'm from New York, I'm not even- Someone's gotta know what's going on around here. I need to get back home. Is there someone, anyone I can talk to about it?
Anyone I can talk to about how I got here in the first place?
[ Upon waking, Peter goes into quiet panic mode, staring at the person next to him and shoving himself out of bed about as fast as he can possibly manage. He's out of the bedroom and wandering around his house mere seconds later, eyes wide obviously in some form of shock.
This isn't New York. This isn't him.
But then who is it? There are pictures of him on the wall. It looks like he lives here, it looks like he's married, like he has kids, like he's done all these things. But he hasn't. Maybe he'd be more quick to sneak out of here if it just looked like he had been kidnapped, but this was something different. It was all wrong. He didn't even want to touch anything, lest it become even more real. As long as he didn't run into any of his so called family members, maybe it'd be okay. ]
[ open action; Ricardo Street ]
[ Stepping out the front door, he makes his way at least all the way to the end of Ricardo street, not looking any less confused as he goes. Nearly oblivious to everything around him, he's staring at the passing houses, and then ducking his face to the sidewalk. Being outside the house was supposed to make it better, but he only felt worse. What was with these houses, why did everything look so perfect?
Awkwardly avoiding contact as he walks by someone, he glanced at one more house, looking pointedly miserable. Peter was hideous at keeping his heart from being on his sleeve, and he tugged at his collared shirt, feeling completely out of place. ]
[ phone; later ]
[ Even though he's connected, there's an incredibly long pause. Peter's unsure about using a phone to connect to a city en masse, but it's about the only option he's got left. ]
Can anyone- [ another pause. ] Can anyone hear me?
I'm not supposed to be here. I'm from New York, I'm not even- Someone's gotta know what's going on around here. I need to get back home. Is there someone, anyone I can talk to about it?
Anyone I can talk to about how I got here in the first place?