Peter dimly recalls a conversation where Adam had revealed he'd been locked up in that cell sometime during the 70's, and the house only confirms it -- everything seems in fairly good repair, but it's all in an older style. What's surprising is that Adam has houses in working order at all, considering how long he's been locked up, but Peter guesses that's just something you anticipate when you live that long. He must have been accumulating money and property for a while.
That's probably a lesson that Peter could stand to learn, since he's possibly staring down the long barrel of immortality himself.
Adam's hand on his shoulder breaks him out of nearly getting lost in his thoughts, and he conjures up a wan smile. "A shower, a change of clothes, and some decent food would go a long way to making me feel human again." He almost volunteers to do the food ordering himself -- did they have takeout in the 70s? does Adam know how to do that? -- but Adam looks like he'd relish the chance to pick food for himself for once. "Italian? Either that or Vietnamese. Or Mediterranean. I'm easy."
Seriously. Anything sounds good. He has to stop himself before he lists off another dozen cuisines.
He's assuming Adam has clothes here, and he needs to get out of these grey prison clothes, so Peter heads off toward what he assumes is the bedroom. "I'm gonna shower and steal some of your clothes," he calls. "There'd better not be any flared jeans."
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That's probably a lesson that Peter could stand to learn, since he's possibly staring down the long barrel of immortality himself.
Adam's hand on his shoulder breaks him out of nearly getting lost in his thoughts, and he conjures up a wan smile. "A shower, a change of clothes, and some decent food would go a long way to making me feel human again." He almost volunteers to do the food ordering himself -- did they have takeout in the 70s? does Adam know how to do that? -- but Adam looks like he'd relish the chance to pick food for himself for once. "Italian? Either that or Vietnamese. Or Mediterranean. I'm easy."
Seriously. Anything sounds good. He has to stop himself before he lists off another dozen cuisines.
He's assuming Adam has clothes here, and he needs to get out of these grey prison clothes, so Peter heads off toward what he assumes is the bedroom. "I'm gonna shower and steal some of your clothes," he calls. "There'd better not be any flared jeans."