superchameleon: (015)
𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢 ([personal profile] superchameleon) wrote in [community profile] piscesnebula 2024-03-27 02:23 am (UTC)

While Adam's in the shower, Peter does some thinking.

First, he wonders about Adam being able to get drunk. Because Claire couldn't: like any teenager with a mysteriously manifesting healing ability, one of the things she'd tried was to drink her body weight in booze, and she said she'd barely managed to get even a tiny bit buzzed before her body just healed it away. Adam, on the other hand, can get drunk, but his theory is that his pre-manifested healing took it in stride, essentially. Which leaves Peter with the question: can he get drunk? Does he have two healing powers in his DNA now? He'd discovered that Claire's power worked automatically, without having to think about it much -- just as well, or he'd never be able to come back from the dead multiple times -- but with Adam closer, would his stupid ability be manifesting that one instead? Or was it first come first serve? Even if he did use Adam's power, would it even work the same way with alcohol for him?

He can't figure any of that out by himself, so he has to reluctantly discard that for the next topic. Long-term plans. And there, he draws a complete blank. He's better off staying away from New York for now, that much he knows, but what more than that? Does he find other people with powers? Is society eventually going to realize they exist? Where is he going to be next month?

Shit. All of this is making his head hurt, when he mostly just wants to sleep for a month, blissfully free of Elle waking him up with electric shocks. Curiously, he glances down at his hand, and thinks of her -- her sardonic little smile when he got too close to a truth, the predatory glittering in her eyes when she was in a good mood -- and watches little sparks of lightning arc between his fingertips. When someone knocks at the door, he lets the sparks die, answers the door, and then has to take three trips to lug in all of the food that Adam ordered. He's just got the table loaded up and the guy paid and sent on his way--

That's when Adam chooses to make his entrance.

"You look like Starsky and Hutch," Peter deadpans. "Zero out of ten for modern appeal, a reluctant seven out of ten for the period look." It's not even period to Adam, though, is it? Oh god, he probably still thinks it's hip. The only modern clothing he's seen on whoever visits his cell, which was probably Bob and that's it. Among his dawning horror, he breaks, and laughs. "If you go anywhere like that you're gonna stick out and we're gonna get our asses thrown back in those cells because you look like Janis Joplin."

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