Jane F & Peter P
She knew his name. Somehow he hadn't expected that, though he supposed it made sense. Maybe she had included that with the blanket as well. It was hard to say, he hadn't gotten a lot of info out of his social worker. Other than a ten minute "would you please stay out of trouble" lecture.
"I got what I came for," he said simply. He hadn't thought this threw. Or maybe it was that he had thought about this so many times that he didn't know for sure what he was doing. Honestly, what did he expect? A hug? An invitation to stay with her as her son? Jane had a life now, and it didn't include him.
Most of the bravado he'd been carrying since he got to town was fading and quickly. The smart thing to do would be to turn tail and run. "I just... I needed to know. Needed to see for myself, I guess."
And now he had. Jane Foster was beautiful and smart and everything a little Peter had hoped she would be. But she wasn't his mom. Not anymore.