♦ action
He does that thing where he thins his lips out, pressing them together and shakes his head more to clear it then to answer anything. "Uhm...he--" he blows out a breath. Talking about Uncle Ben's death is still really hard for Peter. He's never felt like he didn't have anyone because Aunt Mae was always there, but he has felt like he was being punished, like it was his fault and he didn't deserve to have anyone there. "Uhm...I was--there was this guy that robbed this store. Convenience store. I stopped for chocolate milk because Uncle Ben and I had had a fight. He--Uncle Ben went looking for me and he--he heard the clerk yelling for someone to stop the guy. I---I could have stopped him, but the clerk had been a jerk to me earlier and I...I told him that it wasn't my problem. He---the guy...he shot Uncle Ben because Uncle Ben tried to stop him."
It's clear from his body language and the way he tells the story that he blames himself. His shoulders are hunched a bit, his hands are shoved in his pockets and the ground has become incredibly fascinating. Of course, looking at the ground conveniently hides the tears that he knows are in his eyes.