(no subject)

[rushd]

[Wind ruffles your hair.

Or... Hmm.]

Comments

[rushd]

[Wow, okay, street oracle, no need to get snippy. Peter can call himself a nobody, but that doesn't mean you get to agree with him. What, just because he's got enough free time during a Tuesday afternoon to harass random strangers, that makes you think he's some sort of deadbeat or something? Doesn't matter if you're right, that's just rude.

The crunching of his peppermints is a little ticked off and a lot confused. Confused, accusatory crunching. Lots of it. Peter would deny stress-eating, and he'd be a liar.

He's beyond just dismissing his powers with everyone, now that mutants are a known factor, but it still happens. But this guy's...pretty much said he has powers too, hasn't he? It's been kinda implied with how much he knows?

He's found another mutant? A bit of hope and curiosity spark in his chest. The wet-snap of peppermints grows a little less passive aggressive.]

Look, I don't know about this magic thing you're talking about, man. [And considering the bad press mutants have been getting, there's real hesitation still before he takes that plunge. But he wants to know. He visibly puffs up and then slouches, a constructed carelessness on his face.] But I might know something about powers.

[He moves at his speed, coming forward to pluck the cigarette from this guy's hand. The end burns at a dull glow, embers changing patterns so slowly it looks more like a lava lamp than a flame. Peter switches it to the man's other hand, delicately moving his fingers so the extra speed won't cause him to like, snap one in half or carry the momentum to smack himself in the face or something.

Peter stays about two feet to the guy's left, clearly moved.]

Tell me yours first. [On their own, they might sound like an ultimatum. In reality, Peter sounds a little off-balance. It's practically a question.] I'd really like to know that this doesn't end with be drugged and in the back of some government truck, you know, man?