The Way of Things, Chapter 32
Peter rubbed his eyes blearily, another long day without Rose done and gone. He’d come home and, after a light supper, had spent a few hours working at the table in the kitchen. After re-reading the same report for the fourth time, he’d given up, moving to stretch out on the sofa. He had a new book he’d been meaning to read for ages, and hoped it
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*picturing a thoroughly rained-on Peter sitting forlornly at a bus stop after having just been dismissed, having found out she's not there, or seeing/hearing something he's misinterpreted or blown out of proportion*
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But then she's bitchy anyway!
*hoping my posited Peter snark from last time doesn't prove to be eerily prophetic, although it certainly seems to be heading that way*
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Peter's in over his head. After so long being shut away, from being anywhere close to having to *relate* to someone he cares for...he's a bit at a loss.
Nice you could join the conversation and suggest the perfect snide remark for him to toss at her...
Poor Peter. *sigh* (random aside: did you know that the large Poor Peter mugs serve as excellent soda can holders? Just sayin, as I sit here, staring at my Dr. Pepper, nestled inside my mug...)
It's just so him to hide this way, to regroup and to recover
Any port in a storm: he's just lucky he finally found one which 1. appealed to his natural strengths, and 2. was legal.
He really is a fascinating character, and a very emotionally resonant one.He really is. I don't think I'd realized what a comprehensive delight he'd be to write. I mean, I knew I liked the character, and was intrigued enough to actually start writing fanfic. But as this has progressed--and as folks like you have asked intelligent and ( ... )
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I have to admit I still ponder why/how he found it so easy to relate to Natalie and yet he had problems (and continues to have problems) relating to just about everyone else.
(random aside: did you know that the large Poor Peter mugs serve as excellent soda can holders? Just sayin, as I sit here, staring at my Dr. Pepper, nestled inside my mug...)
I ordered the small mug, as I already have a large CP mug in the form of Foamy the Squirrel eyeing a bagel with cream cheese. And it fits better into the office coffeemakers (Flavia drinks machines, heh).
Any port in a storm: he's just lucky he finally found one which 1. appealed to his natural strengths, and 2. was legal.
He's been a very good boy regarding 2 so far. If people had a more thorough knowledge of his background the joke about going on a bender mightn't have seemed quite so funny.
He really is... Much of it is down to the original character as ( ... )
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Assuming an 8am arrival-to-work-and-immediate-logon-to-LJ time:
5,589 minutes until we get to find out.
*dies*
Is it terribly, terribly wrong of me to hope they'll find the interrogation room mysteriously empty?
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But then, of course, they could come back to find him gone, assume he's gone off to fetch comestibles (or sulk) when he in fact has been abducted. Especially since he's already got a noted habit of leaving his mobile sitting around versus making sure he's got it on him at all times. Particularly apropos if we see him have some sort of 'Eureka!' moment and then he gets carted off...
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*wibble*
He’d come home and, after a light supper, had spent a few hours working at the table in the kitchen.
That ‘light supper’ better not have been a packet of crisps and a doorstopper, given that it’s just about all he’s eaten in what, 2, 3 days? *shakes fist*
He had a new book he’d been meaning to read for ages…
‘Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain’? How the yah Peter ever learned to tie his shoes, much less come to a love of reading in that house I’ll never know. Maybe he used to get dumped off at the local and made friends with the librarians?
He stared at the page in front of him, his mind still trying to work out what might be happening with Rose-and what he wanted to happen with Rose.
Interesting. He seemed pretty sure last time-is the delay in seeing her again reintroducing doubts?
Maybe it would be worth a zeppelin ticket to go to London, to try to see her?Showing up outside her flat looking like a drowned ( ... )
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Hmmm...not sure about the shoe-tying, but I had imagined him being locked in his room quite a bit, or somehow otherwise isolated. Get a smart kid bored enough, and they'll pick up a book. If it's a good book, they'll get addicted right away; if it's a bad book, have it happen often enough and they'll develop a habit. It's a terrible way to develop a lifelong love of reading but, like his logic, reading has consistently offered him a stability in his life. And, as a bonus, it gives him the power of choice--*he* gets to decide what he wants to read.
I’m going to choose to take this particular turn of phrase in the most innocent way possible.
That's your choice. Authorial intent was most assuredly not innocent. ;)
He owns more than a single pair of black shoes?
I think I'd settled at the number "4".
I might, possibly, overthink things ( ... )
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He just seems to have had so little parental input/guidance, and as the oldest he wouldn't have the built-in teacher that an older sibling would (theoretically) provide. He probably learned it from a book!
I actually don't even remember the process of learning to read, 'cos thanks to having The Electric Company and Sesame Street as my television babysitter from babyhood, I have apparently been able to read since I was three years old. I am all about the books and reading (including on long road trips with the grandparents or my mother, much to my carsick-tending husband's chagrin).
That's your choice. Authorial intent was most assuredly not innocent. ;)
Release the hounds!
Is that possibly even sadder than the oft-discussed angsturbation, that he wanted to just for some relief and couldn't? Not to mention the usual male insecurities that ( ... )
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I honestly can't remember a time when I couldn't read. It might be down to having an older sibling; that I was always trying to do what she did, and so learned how to read when she did. I don't know. Maybe that's something I'll ask mom about over Thanksgiving. I *do* remember the first book I read in one day--"Are you there, God? It's me Margaret." I was 8, and was very proud of myself.
I am all about the books and reading (including on long road trips with the grandparents or my mother, much to my carsick-tending husband's chagrin).
Oh, reading! brilliantomega and I talked about this very thing on Sunday--about how we hate to get rid of books. My room is chock-full of them, but it's a habit I come by honestly: when I was in middle school, my mom had our garage fitted out with bookshelves. I have to have a book with me at all times, or else I get twitchy (although of late I've been traveling with my notebook instead, writing instead of reading ( ... )
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Jake rose to the bait. “You sure as hell look like it.”
When I drink alone, I prefer to be by myself…
*not adding George Thorogood to the soundtrack, sorry*
They were the same colour, at least, but they definitely did not match.
Well at least he isn’t the man with one red shoe, eh? ;P
“Nice outfit, sir.” When had Penington become so cheeky?
It’s a tricky business, being nice to people and all. They might start to think of themselves as your friends.
“Rose is back,” James said, unnecessarily.
Or you could’ve had one of those giant vinyl banners made up saying ‘WELCOME BACK ROSE’ and strung it across the room. Y’know, in case he missed that she was five feet in front of him or something.
“Ian did say that McGreevy would have died without the help of the fire,” Penington added.That’s it? That he would’ve died without the help of the fire? Was Ian really that vague? He must be taking lessons from the away teams on Next Gen… oh, sorry, ( ... )
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Given that you're talking about this troupe of jackholes selling potentially lethal technology to God-knows-who, you'd think they'd be a little less 'ooh, neat!' and a little more 'start roundin' em up!'
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It’s a tricky business, being nice to people and all. They might start to think of themselves as your friends.
Exactly! Poor Peter--it's been ages since he made a new friend.
Y’know, in case he missed that she was five feet in front of him or something.
I envisioned Peter as gawping a bit as he stared at her. Oh, James and his snark....
That he would’ve died without the help of the fire? Was Ian really that vague?
Actually, thanks for reminding me. Somewhere between drafts, the means for the murder--that is, the means that *would* have led to McGreevy's death, had ne not been burnt--got deleted. I'll add it into the next chapter. ;)
It doesn’t hurt to tell him what might be up!
You're quite right. But if the information is classified--and they're not in a room certified for that type of information....
Here we go again with The Inspector and The Miss
Awww--that could be cute if they weren't at each other's throats!
I’m sure the ladies reading this fic could ( ... )
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