That's— ( "disgusting" is what peter starts to say, scrambling to get to his feet before the contents of eddie's stomach decide to say hello to both him and the ground between them. he half-succeeds, not quite managing to step away in time, but—
he inhales.
pauses.
it's fine.
given the heat, given the presumed dehydration, given the fact that they'd probably been given something to knock them out, what else did he expect? even if it wasn't something ingestible, telepathy and general mental coercion isn't always gentle or easy to swallow (ha.) )
—it. ( is what he settles on, tone carefully neutral and edging towards distracted. it's still fucking disgusting, thank you very much, he didn't really want to be spending his morning (his morning, regardless of the actual time of day) dodging vomit just after waking up and before he's consumed anything that resembles coffee. ) Better out than in. ( he adds, attention shifting away from eddie and towards their surroundings.
it looks like earth, he guesses, but it's no part of earth he's ever been to — not, of course, that that's ruling out much of the planet.
running a hand through his hair — blonde, dishevelled and damp with sweat — peter tries to work out how long it would have taken to get him from (the former location of) knowhere to earth, before deciding the answer's something along the lines of too flarking long and directing his focus back to eddie. )
You doing okay, kid? ( peter crouches next to eddie — pointedly not in front of, just in case he spews again — and gestures in the direction of buildings that he thinks are shops. ) We can get some water over there, (probably, but he keeps that to himself. ) And it's out of the sun.
( he lifts a hand to shield his eyes, rocking back onto his heels. ) But before we do that, I'm gonna—. ( he gestures vaguely at the fountain, a brief silence falling between them. ) Wash my boots.
cw - vomit
he inhales.
pauses.
it's fine.
given the heat, given the presumed dehydration, given the fact that they'd probably been given something to knock them out, what else did he expect? even if it wasn't something ingestible, telepathy and general mental coercion isn't always gentle or easy to swallow (ha.) )
—it. ( is what he settles on, tone carefully neutral and edging towards distracted. it's still fucking disgusting, thank you very much, he didn't really want to be spending his morning (his morning, regardless of the actual time of day) dodging vomit just after waking up and before he's consumed anything that resembles coffee. ) Better out than in. ( he adds, attention shifting away from eddie and towards their surroundings.
it looks like earth, he guesses, but it's no part of earth he's ever been to — not, of course, that that's ruling out much of the planet.
running a hand through his hair — blonde, dishevelled and damp with sweat — peter tries to work out how long it would have taken to get him from (the former location of) knowhere to earth, before deciding the answer's something along the lines of too flarking long and directing his focus back to eddie. )
You doing okay, kid? ( peter crouches next to eddie — pointedly not in front of, just in case he spews again — and gestures in the direction of buildings that he thinks are shops. ) We can get some water over there, ( probably, but he keeps that to himself. ) And it's out of the sun.
( he lifts a hand to shield his eyes, rocking back onto his heels. ) But before we do that, I'm gonna—. ( he gestures vaguely at the fountain, a brief silence falling between them. ) Wash my boots.