Peter Parker | OTA (MW)
Peter's not quite sure what to do with himself.
Everything - it just all seems like some sort of horrible nightmare. For him, it's been what, maybe less than 48 hours since he was on the bus with Ned, on his way to the MOMA? He still hasn't processed everything that's happened, and now he's here, surrounded by Halloween decorations and flickering pumpkins, people laughing and drinking like none of it even happened.
It's kind of numbing, in a way.
Peter's sitting off to the side, picking at a plate of food; he knows he needs to eat, and eating means healing and feeling a little less like total shit, but his stomach still feels like acid, and his ribs hurt like a bitch. He stabs a piece of chicken, popping it in his mouth and chewing it slowly. Maybe he could just pretend? He's never been the best actor, but maybe for a couple hours he can just...not think about it.
Man, he misses May. She always found the bright side, and even when she couldn't, she just...made everything better.
Peter's sure he doesn't look too inviting, the bruises still healing on his face, but at least he'd been able to scrub the dried blood off. He doesn't see anyone he recognizes here except - oh, is that Bucky Barnes in the corner, with the man running the music? Peter thinks this is his party, but he's not entirely sure.
He takes another bite of chicken and resolves himself to just people-watching.