contact

[phonetically]

"You've got Stiles -- or you would if I were here right now, which, I'm not. I think phone etiquette is the same here, so you should know the drill. If you want something, yada yada, but here's an extra option. Call Scott if it's an emergency. And if it's really an emergency, call until he picks up. Otherwise, I'll get back to you when I can. Peace, Atia."

Comments

[phonetically]

Maybe. It would make everything easier. [ Maybe that is what Atia intends. Loose morals and barely there friends sharing sex partners. ] But, is that the kind of guy you are? Cause I don't think I'm not. [ Jesus Christ, he hands him the damn bottle. You puke on this couch, you clean it, Peter. ]

[askedtobe]

[ Okay, wait- Peter just stares at Stiles, scotch forgotten. He would prefer to not be school by a teenager but he can't think straight. But then his brain rattles free (SORT OF) and he takes the bottle and sets it on the table. Yup. ] And then you'll get married and have kids. Yeah. I heard the story.

[phonetically]

I don't know - I'm assuming I won't always be here. But, who knows. Maybe. But, marriage doesn't have to be a part of it.

[askedtobe]

That's not- [ Peter doesn't even entirely know what he means himself but god, he keeps thinking about that chick who's married here. Not because he wants her but because... married. Blergh. His brain is turning into blergh. ] I know. But i've got nephews. And a niece.

[ He has to save them, too. ]

[phonetically]

... And you - want nephews of your own? Or, I mean... to make - your own nieces? For - [ He sighs, getting lost again. ] I think that, if it keeps not meaning anything it will get - it'll really suck. It'll get worse.

[askedtobe]

Yeah. It will. [ And as far as Peter knows, as far into the future he's seen, the whole... married and kids thing isn't going to be his life. Maybe that's how it should be. Who the hell knows. ] Here and- y'know. Everywhere.

[phonetically]

[ He hikes up a foot, placing it on the coffee table, resting his arm on his knee. ]

So, then we - make the best of it.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter laughs. Just... not comically. ]

Funny.

[phonetically]

If you want it to be. Or, tragic. Or, fucked up. But, we're still doing something and we're trying.

[askedtobe]

Maybe you're trying. I'm... [ he points ] .. drinking.

[phonetically]

Like a fish. So, tomorrow. Tomorrow you try. Today you -- [ He gestures ] Drink.

[askedtobe]

Tell Elle she should be my girlfriend. [ Oh, he's trying so hard not to laugh. ] Sign up for electroshock therapy.

[phonetically]

... I don't know who Elle is. But, apparently dating you should be forgotten, so, should I also wish her good luck?

[askedtobe]

[ Peter's eyes go a little wide before confusion hits, his brow furrowing like none other. Stiles is back to speaking a different language and Peter tips his head like a puppy searching for words. ] I don't date. Elle is- she doesn't- She used to electrocute me for fun. But nobody dates me.

[ What he means to say is that nobody should. ]

[phonetically]

Electroshock therapy. It's used to - forget. It can erase memories. [ ... ] But, wow, she sounds --

Literally electrocute you for fun?

[askedtobe]

[ Slow nod. ] Literally. Yes. 'Bout once a day. She said I would learn to like it. [ He shrugs. ] I was locked in a room, didn't have anything better to do.

[phonetically]

Your life. [ Give him a second. ] So, was this before or after you weren't a terrorist?

[askedtobe]

[ Thinkiiiingg. ] Before.

[phonetically]

... That took a lot of brain power, didn't it?

[askedtobe]

[ Slow head shake. ] Nah, I could do this all night. [ This is like a fucking truth serum but yes okay fine, his brain juice is running low. ]

[phonetically]

Hey, look, you got it out of your system, right? [ He looks to Peter, checking in. ]

[askedtobe]

Which part? The- [ waves a hand ] -scotch part?

[phonetically]

Talking about it. Nathan. Your powers. Terrorism. Elle. Marriage, or lack thereof. You name it, we've hit on it.

[askedtobe]

Blowing up New York's a good one. [ Just gonna rub his eyes now. Passing the hell out is probably imminent. ]

[phonetically]

That could be misconstrued as terrorism.