Don't you freaking "what" me, you stupid... [And here is where Peter loses his patience.
He's upright, and though the other boy stands five inches taller than he does there's zero hesitation about bullying him around. Peter shoves at his shoulders and shoves hard, his teeth gritted.]
What the hell did you stop answering your messages for?!
There's no way in his current mental state that he could fight to keep his balance, instead toppling to the floor again, landing on his back. Anger should spike up by this point, mouth already insulting Peter because sorry, I was busy dying.
But it doesn't come, expression shifting towards something strangely calm. ] I was busy. [ It's not his intention to hide what he just went through, but ... you know. It just happened. ]
[Which is the closest he'll get to saying what he really means. He's not even worried about the spying over the comms any more. They know he's a fuck up, that he's soft-hearted and he hates this place. This punishment alone is proof of it.
And yet they still can't just pull the trigger and let this whole charade be over with. That's all he wants, really. Even if it undoes all the voodoo magic they worked to get his cooling corpse up and running again. He just wants this to be done.
A grace he's not going to get.]
FROM: parker.peter@cdc.org
you think I don't know that?
FROM: parker.peter@cdc.org
Look, I can't make any guarantees. I have to try because of the terms, but I'm never going to be able to do this without regretting it. Do you understand me?
Have you ever thought to consider it's because you're the one that's at the biggest risk to be a danger to the crew on Kalis?
FROM: jacobs.shinobu@cdc.org
We're the ones that should be keeping an eye on that kind of thing, but when you're the one that's constantly fucking up and making no attempt to change, then I have to spend more time trying to get you back in line.
FROM: jacobs.shinobu@cdc.org
Would you rather I just ignore everything that's going on and let you get yourself killed? Because believe me, that would be a hell of a lot easier.
FROM: jacobs.shinobu@cdc.org
I don't take the easy way. I'm trying to work with you here, but you won't fucking listen.
[And that's about when Peter's done with this conversation too. He's fuming out the ears, and there are so many choice words he'd like to fire off her way.
But he knows when it's getting too close a shave, shockingly. All today had been was knifish hurts and he was this close to snapping already. Peter, wisely, shoves the blackglass away and exits the rover. Who cares how late it's getting?
He might not be at a hundred percent, but he needs a goddamn walk. It's not even just Shinobu.
[Peter is, under the thick fog of anger, actually sorry he pushed him down off his feet. But that dumb look on his face is infuriating, because by now Green should know how serious this crap is, and if something had happened to him and Peter never found him, never got to stop it in time?
He'd go nuts. Even more nuts than he already is.]
Did you not see Dagger's message? They failed us. On the missions, there's a whole list of people that freaking failed, and we're both on it, and they're saying to expect punishments. Is that a joke to you? Don't you ever wonder why they took Cortana away?
Answer your messages if people are worried about you! This isn't a game, idiot!
[He called you an asshole within like 2 tags of meeting you this is not new. It's a far more contrite answer than he was expecting, he was a lot more worked up when he sent the message.
He stalls, hums with frustrated energy, exhales through his teeth.]
FROM: jaeger.eren@cdc.org
no.
[Though the CDC seems to think so. To hell with the CDC.]
[(He is glad to know that Sasuke is the exception and not the norm.)
They really had given pretty crappy introductions, hadn't they? Mind you if that dumb bahari hadn't been sneaking into their room to steal stuff they could have had a chance to meet properly. Not half asleep and peeved to the max.
He lets her in first, thankful that the rover isn't too big of a mess. There's not a lot going on, though. Peter's is the only bunk that looks recently inhabited. Caroline is apparently in stasis, Cortana is just plain gone, and that other prison-looking guy just disappeared one day. Peter's the only one there, really, and his is the only space with any amount of life to it. Rumpled sheets, a half open duffel at the foot with extra shirts and a nanite gun. There's three photographs tacked to the wall beside his bed: a middle aged woman reclining on a couch with a wine glass in hand and a business blazer, a blonde girl in punk chic hanging off the wrong end of a pier with a devious smile, and a bright eyed redhead pulling a pin-up style smile as Peter kisses her cheek.
Aside from that, the place as a whole feels downright hollow.
He makes for the kitchenette immediately, sets some water to boil and digs for cups.]
Treehouses? You don't think that's kind of tempting fate, here? [He shoots her a grin.] Isn't there some giant bug thing that crawls over the trees at night?
don't call him garbage while he's in pain you're the garbage one
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