(no subject)
Peter is brooding. In a dark corner. In a black jacket with an upturned collar. With his hair in his face.
The pink straw in his beer kind of ruins the effect.
He's this close to writing poetry. Stop Peter Petrelli from writing godawful lovesick poetry...save the world.
The pink straw in his beer kind of ruins the effect.
He's this close to writing poetry. Stop Peter Petrelli from writing godawful lovesick poetry...save the world.