It was frustrating for Peter to not be able to do more for Sam when he was obviously struggling with what had happened to him the night before. It wasn't something that showed clearly on his roommate's face, but Peter was still able to see it, and yet it was obvious that Sam wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Maybe it was something he only discussed with Dean. Either way, Peter knew it wasn't his business, and yet he couldn't help worrying.
What he had to focus on instead was what to do with his night. He barely heard what was said over the intercom; sure, the words came through the new intercom system clearly enough, but it was almost like it was in one ear and out the other. Landel always gave his warnings, and while he'd put them through hell more than once, Peter knew he'd come out of it okay. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but he would manage. It wasn't worth hiding in his room just because there might be something horrifying in store for him.
He was mainly kicking himself over the fact that he hadn't better planned for the night. Peter knew he should have asked Javert if he wanted to head up to the pharmacy with him, but it had seemed strange to do that with someone he'd just met -- and he didn't know if the man had already made plans. But he should have bit the bullet anyway, because now he was stuck without anyone to go with.
Peter considered asking Sam, but his roommate looked like he was gearing up for something else. In other words, he was going to have to see if he could find someone out in the halls. And so he packed his bag with the same supplies from the night before, along with the syringe of Claire's blood which he handled as carefully as he could. Although this time he made sure to grab his shovel, which he'd forgotten in his rush the night before.
Tossing his radio into the pillow case along with everything else, Peter then took his flashlight last and headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck," he told Sam before stepping out into the hall, which he headed down at a steady pace, his shovel over one shoulder and his bag of supplies over the other.
What he had to focus on instead was what to do with his night. He barely heard what was said over the intercom; sure, the words came through the new intercom system clearly enough, but it was almost like it was in one ear and out the other. Landel always gave his warnings, and while he'd put them through hell more than once, Peter knew he'd come out of it okay. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but he would manage. It wasn't worth hiding in his room just because there might be something horrifying in store for him.
He was mainly kicking himself over the fact that he hadn't better planned for the night. Peter knew he should have asked Javert if he wanted to head up to the pharmacy with him, but it had seemed strange to do that with someone he'd just met -- and he didn't know if the man had already made plans. But he should have bit the bullet anyway, because now he was stuck without anyone to go with.
Peter considered asking Sam, but his roommate looked like he was gearing up for something else. In other words, he was going to have to see if he could find someone out in the halls. And so he packed his bag with the same supplies from the night before, along with the syringe of Claire's blood which he handled as carefully as he could. Although this time he made sure to grab his shovel, which he'd forgotten in his rush the night before.
Tossing his radio into the pillow case along with everything else, Peter then took his flashlight last and headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck," he told Sam before stepping out into the hall, which he headed down at a steady pace, his shovel over one shoulder and his bag of supplies over the other.
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