As the day began drawing to a close, the intercom flickered to life. Instead of Harrington's voice, however, Berg's calm tone filtered through the speakers
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While Peter could have tried to convince Sam that he was better off not eating the food, chances were that the guy had already sampled some of the stuff in the earlier meals. If he still wasn't feeling any effects, then it was probably fine, which meant that... well, he'd told Firo not to eat for no reason. Not that he could have known that the outcome would be like this, seeing how nine times out of ten if something bad could happen here it would, but--
Luckily, this sorting task was doing a good job of distracting him from the smell that was coming from both his desk and Sam's. He couldn't deny that he was getting pretty hungry, but he was just going to have to hold out until morning. There wasn't any time for snack runs tonight.
When Sam mentioned his brother, Peter couldn't help but pause for a moment. Not because of Dean, but because he couldn't hear that word and not react. Because he hadn't seen his brother in what felt like too long, and hadn't seen a sane version of him in even longer.
Still, Sam had given him a good opening and so he needed to shove those thoughts away and focus on that. "Yeah, it is. Actually, I was planning to head up to the experiment rooms with someone tonight, but..."
He glanced over at Sam, offering a brief smile. "It might be a good idea if we had some extra help." Peter had to face the facts, which was that Sam had a gun and knew how to use it and that was worlds better than him and his shovel. If his roommate came along, they might actually have a chance of avoiding any injuries. Seeing how they were a paramedic group, getting hurt was pretty counter-intuitive.
Sam winced internally. Sometimes he forgot about Nathan. Peter mentioned him so rarely that, yeah. That was a slip. Still, the moment was pushed by quick enough when Peter spoke up again.
Huh. Talk about right on cue. That was almost a little freaky.
Peter's request came while Sam was about to put a precariously balanced forkful of food in his mouth, so when the question made him look over in surprise, the chicken promptly plopped back onto the bed of rice. He speared it again.
"Yeah, sure. I can give you a hand tonight if you want." He hadn't made any specific appointments with Dean or Ruby, and frankly, he could use a break from both. If Ruby wanted him bad enough, he didn't doubt she'd pound on his door or track him down, so he wasn't all that worried about whether or not he was skipping out on something she was into having him do.
Besides. It might be good to help people for once. Really help people. That was what he was here for, right? It was easy to forget when he was so caught up with everything else.
"What did you need me to do? I'm guessing firepower?"
What he had of it, but it was, he knew, more than most people did. A gun and a knife, It would do. He didn't usually go hunting with a whole lot more. He had a feeling Peter hadn't asked him for his medical expertise and if Peter for some reason was, he was gonna have to give Peter a heads up about what he was getting into. Sam's brand of Winchester First Aid 101 used a lot more whiskey and a lot less bedside manners. He was used to patching up his brother; Dean didn't exactly incite a person to be sympathetic, even when he had a bullet in his arm.
The image of that rotted piece of chicken falling off of Sam's fork and back onto the plate was almost enough to even make Peter gag. He could deal with vomiting patients and all of the other unpleasant bodily functions that he'd been exposed to while training as a nurse, but there was something about watching someone eat spoiled food without blinking that was gross in a whole different way.
Luckily, Sam's acceptance of the invitation drew his thoughts away from all that. That had been far easier than Peter had expected, and suddenly he wondered why he'd been so nervous about it in the first place. Sam had always been helpful, and more than that, Peter could trust him to let him know when he was too busy for something like this. If he was saying he could lend a hand, then he meant it.
"Firepower's about it, yeah," Peter admitted when Sam asked for more details. At this point all of the items had been sorted to his liking, and so he started to neatly pack it all back into the boxes. This would give him easy access to whatever he wanted and make it a much faster job to pack his duffel bag every night. "Sometimes the hallway up there is filled with monsters, so it can be kind of hairy going up there with just two people."
He'd done it before, of course. He and Firo had headed up just the other night and they had been fine, but they couldn't rely on it always being that easy. "Like I said, we're meeting one other person, so once night gets here we'll just head out for the stairs. He should be waiting there." Peter wondered what Sam would think of Kibitoshin. Beyond the weird looks, he was a decent guy and eager to help. Peter couldn't really think of any reason that someone would dislike Kibitoshin. He basically came across as harmless.
Kinda hard not to notice that look on Peter's face, so Sam quickly swept up the rest of his dinner and stuck the tray under the desk when he was done. He'd feel bad if he made Peter throw up before the had even started.
He spun around in his chair to face Peter, elbows on his knees. He eyed the supplies lying in organized piles on the ground. Pretty impressive collection, even for someone who'd been here awhile. Guess his roommate had been working on it. It was a good thing to throw your effort into as any. Any real rescuing with the experimental victims just didn't happen (he'd learned that real well.) Making sure they weren't left to bleed out into the halls was the best anyone could do.
"Sounds like a plan." He got up and went for his box by the door, where he found the Glock and the butterfly knife, same as ever. After getting his gun back last night, he missed not having the Taurus, but a weapon was a weapon. Beggars and choosers.
-Oh, yeah. Speaking of which. He should mention that, shouldn't he? He'd been about to ask if their third was anyone he knew or what the person's name was, but he left that when he realized he hadn't told Peter about the whole mission deal yet. Did Peter know? Sam knew they weren't the first to be dumped in the middle of nowhere with a folder and a map, so someone might've told Peter about it, but.
He sat back down and ejected the magazine into his hand as he spoke. "By the way, I don't know if you've heard of, uh, missions, I guess they're called? I got pulled into one last night."
Just like that, Sam started to prepare for the night, going to grab for the very weapons that Peter had kept in mind when deciding to ask his roommate for help. Well, he hadn't even known about the knife (or it was possible that he'd just forgotten about it, seeing how Sam seemed to be well-armed in general), but he wasn't particularly shocked to see it.
Before he could offer his thanks or do much else, though, Sam brought up what had happened last night. Peter startled -- how could he have forgotten that? His concerns had all been assuaged when he'd seen Sam in bed that morning, but...
But still, Sam had been taken by some soldiers last night and that had just completely slipped his mind because he'd been preoccupied with this whole paramedic thing. That should have been the first thing he'd asked Sam about when he'd walked in here, and yet instead he'd been so absorbed in his own projects.
"...Yeah, I've heard about them. Just a little, but... yeah, wow. Sorry, I guess I'm all over the place lately. What happened, exactly?" He hoped that his guilt over forgetting was clear enough on his face.
Luckily, this sorting task was doing a good job of distracting him from the smell that was coming from both his desk and Sam's. He couldn't deny that he was getting pretty hungry, but he was just going to have to hold out until morning. There wasn't any time for snack runs tonight.
When Sam mentioned his brother, Peter couldn't help but pause for a moment. Not because of Dean, but because he couldn't hear that word and not react. Because he hadn't seen his brother in what felt like too long, and hadn't seen a sane version of him in even longer.
Still, Sam had given him a good opening and so he needed to shove those thoughts away and focus on that. "Yeah, it is. Actually, I was planning to head up to the experiment rooms with someone tonight, but..."
He glanced over at Sam, offering a brief smile. "It might be a good idea if we had some extra help." Peter had to face the facts, which was that Sam had a gun and knew how to use it and that was worlds better than him and his shovel. If his roommate came along, they might actually have a chance of avoiding any injuries. Seeing how they were a paramedic group, getting hurt was pretty counter-intuitive.
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Huh. Talk about right on cue. That was almost a little freaky.
Peter's request came while Sam was about to put a precariously balanced forkful of food in his mouth, so when the question made him look over in surprise, the chicken promptly plopped back onto the bed of rice. He speared it again.
"Yeah, sure. I can give you a hand tonight if you want." He hadn't made any specific appointments with Dean or Ruby, and frankly, he could use a break from both. If Ruby wanted him bad enough, he didn't doubt she'd pound on his door or track him down, so he wasn't all that worried about whether or not he was skipping out on something she was into having him do.
Besides. It might be good to help people for once. Really help people. That was what he was here for, right? It was easy to forget when he was so caught up with everything else.
"What did you need me to do? I'm guessing firepower?"
What he had of it, but it was, he knew, more than most people did. A gun and a knife, It would do. He didn't usually go hunting with a whole lot more. He had a feeling Peter hadn't asked him for his medical expertise and if Peter for some reason was, he was gonna have to give Peter a heads up about what he was getting into. Sam's brand of Winchester First Aid 101 used a lot more whiskey and a lot less bedside manners. He was used to patching up his brother; Dean didn't exactly incite a person to be sympathetic, even when he had a bullet in his arm.
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Luckily, Sam's acceptance of the invitation drew his thoughts away from all that. That had been far easier than Peter had expected, and suddenly he wondered why he'd been so nervous about it in the first place. Sam had always been helpful, and more than that, Peter could trust him to let him know when he was too busy for something like this. If he was saying he could lend a hand, then he meant it.
"Firepower's about it, yeah," Peter admitted when Sam asked for more details. At this point all of the items had been sorted to his liking, and so he started to neatly pack it all back into the boxes. This would give him easy access to whatever he wanted and make it a much faster job to pack his duffel bag every night. "Sometimes the hallway up there is filled with monsters, so it can be kind of hairy going up there with just two people."
He'd done it before, of course. He and Firo had headed up just the other night and they had been fine, but they couldn't rely on it always being that easy. "Like I said, we're meeting one other person, so once night gets here we'll just head out for the stairs. He should be waiting there." Peter wondered what Sam would think of Kibitoshin. Beyond the weird looks, he was a decent guy and eager to help. Peter couldn't really think of any reason that someone would dislike Kibitoshin. He basically came across as harmless.
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He spun around in his chair to face Peter, elbows on his knees. He eyed the supplies lying in organized piles on the ground. Pretty impressive collection, even for someone who'd been here awhile. Guess his roommate had been working on it. It was a good thing to throw your effort into as any. Any real rescuing with the experimental victims just didn't happen (he'd learned that real well.) Making sure they weren't left to bleed out into the halls was the best anyone could do.
"Sounds like a plan." He got up and went for his box by the door, where he found the Glock and the butterfly knife, same as ever. After getting his gun back last night, he missed not having the Taurus, but a weapon was a weapon. Beggars and choosers.
-Oh, yeah. Speaking of which. He should mention that, shouldn't he? He'd been about to ask if their third was anyone he knew or what the person's name was, but he left that when he realized he hadn't told Peter about the whole mission deal yet. Did Peter know? Sam knew they weren't the first to be dumped in the middle of nowhere with a folder and a map, so someone might've told Peter about it, but.
He sat back down and ejected the magazine into his hand as he spoke. "By the way, I don't know if you've heard of, uh, missions, I guess they're called? I got pulled into one last night."
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Before he could offer his thanks or do much else, though, Sam brought up what had happened last night. Peter startled -- how could he have forgotten that? His concerns had all been assuaged when he'd seen Sam in bed that morning, but...
But still, Sam had been taken by some soldiers last night and that had just completely slipped his mind because he'd been preoccupied with this whole paramedic thing. That should have been the first thing he'd asked Sam about when he'd walked in here, and yet instead he'd been so absorbed in his own projects.
"...Yeah, I've heard about them. Just a little, but... yeah, wow. Sorry, I guess I'm all over the place lately. What happened, exactly?" He hoped that his guilt over forgetting was clear enough on his face.
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