Not Until We Are Lost

Peter had slept. A lot. A lot a lot. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't lost a day or two in the darkness, there. He felt a hell of lot more human - heh. Funny. He looked better, too, though his ribs still ached like fuck. He'd scrounged a shirt from the house but it was already kind of stretched out at the neck; obviously whoever the house belonged to hadn't exactly been a big guy. Not that Peter was overly muscled himself, but he had broad shoulders for a teen. Hell of a lot more body hair than your average teen, for that matter.

He hadn't bothered shaving, stubble tipping the line into a full beard as he padded through the house barefoot. The sun was nearly set, light in broad slashes across the floor. Almost made it look like the floorboards were on fire.

He fixed himself a cup of coffee, poking through the cupboards for something to eat while he waited for it to brew. It wasn't really a surprise that he didn't find anything, but he had still kind of hoped there'd be something edible. His stomach growled agreement, loud enough to wake the dead. Well. Some of them. The rest seemed to be pretty sound sleepers.