Now. Peter practically scrambled to oblige, digging through his pockets until he could unearth his walkman (sure, he had the Zune too, but he wanted -- it had to be right) and then pull the headphones out from under the collar of his jacket. He checked the spool of the cassette and rewound it a little until it got to the spot he wanted -- he'd played it enough, back to front, where he knew where every song stopped and started now just by looking.
It felt important he pick a song, a really good song. Not that they weren't all good, but -- still. This one had to be great. He offered her the headphones, eyes hopeful and bright, even as the first chords of The Chain started up.
"I've got a few scars," he admitted a little ruefully. "But none from you." Which was actually pretty impressive, considering how they'd met. "We shared. Usually. Sometimes someone wanted space but usually -- yeah." Peter sounded nearly apologetic about it.