Peter | Open
As soon as he was able, once he'd been interviewed and checked and done whatever else the wizard government guys had wanted, Peter ducked out of the pubs door into the relative quiet of the street. Even with the people still buzzing around, there was fresh air out here rather than dust, and the stars were out overhead. Taking a breath of sharp, cold air, Peter leaned against the wall of the pub, underneath the 'Dragon's Breath' sign, which was still creeping ominously.
It wasn't real, he reminded himself. Or even if it was - and the pattern of bruises under his ruined shirt would be hard to explain if not - it wasn't her.. But it had felt like her, sounded like her. Right at the end, amongst the rubble of the fight, it had looked like her, just as it had the last time he'd seen his Aunt.
Peter took another breath, hating the lump blooming in his throat and the prickling, itching feeling behind his eyelids. He lifted bruised knuckles, rubbing them across his eyes in a frustrated motion.