Pete and Pete
Blame it on how keyed up he is - getting his shit kicked in and trying to calm the ringing anxiety that's been setting off his spidey senses until they just become background noise, well. Sometimes things slip past him. He's so damn tired. To be honest, he wasn't sure he was going to come, but he just...needed to get out of the house. The free food definitely helped.
"I'll say," Peter snorted, wondering if there could have been a worse time for him to be brought here. "And I guess...no one's ever found a way back?"
If you even want to go back, the voice in the back of Peter's brain suggested quietly, and he resolutely ignored it. Now definitely wasn't the time to open up that can of freshly-jarred worms.
"It looks good. Smells good, too." Peter smiled, spearing another piece of chicken. Maybe he'd go see if there was any more at the food table once he finished his plate. At least, talking to Peter was slowly bringing back his appetite. It's the small things, really.
"It's really detailed," Peter complimented, and it's true. It looked like one of the original sketches he'd made, before Tony built him his first real suit, with bolder lines on the webbing. "No way! So am I - wait, do you know Lucia's?"
"Really?" Peter raised an eyebrow, scooping up some green beans with his fork. "Funny way of showing it."