Peter Hale is basically satan in a v-neck. (notfireproof) wrote in notebookthreads, @ 2015-06-07 20:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 40 points, ! open, peter hale, peter maximoff |
Characters: Peter Hale notfireproof + OPEN
Location: Outside of Out of This World cafe.
Time: 7 June, late afternoon.
Warnings: None/TBA.
Summary: Coffee run.
Status: OPEN, ongoing.
Of all the vices that Peter had (not including some of his greater vices, which were of an entirely different caliber), his love for caffeine was probably the greatest. While his metabolism ground through anything he put into it impossibly fast, he preferred the stimulant over anything else. It barely had a noticeable effect on him, but he wasn't entirely immune to it. Even if alcohol did affect him, Peter would have hated the cloudiness and sedation that came with it. His mind was his greatest asset and everyone who knew him at all, even the people who hated him, knew that too. So pickling his brain with spirits would have been a waste of his potential. Of course, to get to the stage of pickling there would have had to be the instinct to try to drown himself in liquor rather than face his problems and Peter had never been the kind of man to sit still and let himself rot in inaction, riddled by could have beens and what ifs. His life had certainly been no picnic, and he could have easily fallen into that sorry sort of existence if his natural anger and stubbornness hadn't kept him going. That greatest asset of his though? Hasn't helped him yet. Never mind the fact it was still rattled and off-kilter from his time in that cell, he could not find a solution to his biggest problem: how to get out of here. If he counted correctly, he had been in so called "Test City" for almost two weeks now and was still no closer to figuring out how he had ended up here or how to leave. After his first few attempts to leave proved futile, Peter had turned his attention to learning more about Test City itself, hoping to find the answer that way. As with everything lately, the city made little sense, full of impossible people and he could not quite make himself believe they were all insane, regardless of how he wanted to. Besides, it always benefitted him to understand everything and to find all the pieces, you had to be open to believing things that couldn't possibly be real. At this moment in time, however, Peter had managed to finally stumble across a cafe that, while horribly decorated, was purported of having the best coffee in the city and indulging his one innocent habit couldn't hurt. Pushing open the door, he made his way into the establishment, trying to avoid staring directly at any of the garish decor. Having underestimated the amount the sudden amount of stimuli would have on him, he promptly placed an order and paid for a black coffee with as much espresso they would allow him to have before taking the cup and leaving. In his haste out of the door, he nearly collided with someone. Though he tried not to let his senses overload him, he had to stop dead in his tracks, holding his eyes shut and tried to find some sort of calm. |