( he lets out an exhale of breath that's part acknowledgement, part laugh. )
Yep. ( sideglance; wryly. ) I know you Avengers really flarking love being the guys with the sacrificial play, but it doesn't have to be you every time.
( and if you must do it, he thinks, capital-y you as a group need to stop with the in-fighting and the pissing off other species and stop getting into shit you can't handle and calling on the wider galaxy for help, because it's a pain in the flarking ass.
he thinks it but he doesn't say it, because wanda? you really helped him and richard rider out one time, and he's still appreciative of it.
he makes his way to the bathroom, which in true hasn't been updated since the late 70s fashion, is a stunning — key word — shade of avocado green. peter hates it, but he figures that if there's going to be anywhere in this d'ast room that has something sharp, it'll be the bathroom.
(maybe. probably. health and safety really wasn't a thing in the 80s, right?)
he opens one cupboard, then two, and that's all there is. there's a toothbrush and toothpaste, a plastic cup — for what? he doesn't know — a couple of washcloths, and— that's about it. soon enough, there's a dull thud somewhere behind him. somewhere, of course, being completely relative and a couple of metres, because the room is Small.
I don't think they're providing us with anything useful, wanda says and peter laughs. the entire situation is flarking absurd. he eyes the lamp, a crack running pitifully along its cream, because of course, base, and he runs a hand through his hair and decides— )
You know, you might be on to something. ( he's wearing boots, wanda. he could stomp on the base, likely a far more effective venture than whatever that attempt just was. )
no subject
Yep. ( sideglance; wryly. ) I know you Avengers really flarking love being the guys with the sacrificial play, but it doesn't have to be you every time.
( and if you must do it, he thinks, capital-y you as a group need to stop with the in-fighting and the pissing off other species and stop getting into shit you can't handle and calling on the wider galaxy for help, because it's a pain in the flarking ass.
he thinks it but he doesn't say it, because wanda? you really helped him and richard rider out one time, and he's still appreciative of it.
he makes his way to the bathroom, which in true hasn't been updated since the late 70s fashion, is a stunning — key word — shade of avocado green. peter hates it, but he figures that if there's going to be anywhere in this d'ast room that has something sharp, it'll be the bathroom.
(maybe. probably. health and safety really wasn't a thing in the 80s, right?)
he opens one cupboard, then two, and that's all there is. there's a toothbrush and toothpaste, a plastic cup — for what? he doesn't know — a couple of washcloths, and— that's about it. soon enough, there's a dull thud somewhere behind him. somewhere, of course, being completely relative and a couple of metres, because the room is Small.
I don't think they're providing us with anything useful, wanda says and peter laughs. the entire situation is flarking absurd. he eyes the lamp, a crack running pitifully along its cream, because of course, base, and he runs a hand through his hair and decides— )
You know, you might be on to something. ( he's wearing boots, wanda. he could stomp on the base, likely a far more effective venture than whatever that attempt just was. )