log: carnage comes home
Peter was tired. He was tired and he was miserable because yeah, sure, helping people was great but he'd lost Carnage again. By the time he'd had a chance to look there was no sign of it anywhere, and he'd ended up webslinging around in circles.
Where would it go? He had no idea. Somewhere quiet? Secluded? Too many options, and no way to track it.
All he wanted to do now was sleep. He knew Aunt May wouldn't be home but he came in through his bedroom window anyway, because it was habit, and he was kind of on autopilot. Still suited up, he climbed up over the sill and tugged off his mask as soon as his feet hit the ground. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out, a long exhale; it could get stuffy in there sometimes. And so much'd happened in the past few days that taking a few seconds to breathe, it made him feel a little less like he was suffocating.
He shuffled toward the bed with a yawn, and he wasn't even planning on changing. No, the plan was to yank the top part of his suit over his head and fall into bed, but... someone else was already there.
Normally he didn't spook easily but this, this spooked him. Alarm bells sounded in his head and he stumbled back with a yelp, banging into his bedside table and knocking over his lamp.