Who: Peter Vincent and Maleficent What: Peter changed his mind - he DOES want to be a dead hero. Where: By the river When: around 9:30 PM Monday, February 25, 2012 Rating: It’s Peter, so language is a definite. Probably some mild violence. Everything else tbd
“This is stupid. Fucking reckless. Dead fucking hero, just like I fucking told Charley. Fuck.” Peter’s fingers tightened around his shotgun as he muttered to himself. He was making his way through the woods bordering the riverbanks. Off to meet the Psychowitch. Joy. He was a fucking idiot.
He knew full well, in that bone-deep, heavy-stomached way, that something bad was going to come of this. It was the same feeling he'd had nearly a year ago, following Charley into Jerry's lair; he knew that he was walking straight into a trap. But if it meant that she was focusing even a fraction of her attention on him, rather than on Ginger, or Andrew or anyone else, then how could he not? He wasn't so stupid as to think they'd rather see him hurt, or that he hadn't given himself away, Maleficent had known exactly how to get to him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and what she was doing, and he was walking straight into it anyways. That was what made him an idiot.
He'd managed to leave the flat without arousing too much suspicion, not telling Andrew where he was headed or who he was meeting, just that he'd be back in an hour or two. Peter had picked up one of his shotguns from the armory on his way out, and a few other small weapons, just in case. Maleficent was not the only danger out there, after all. He was certain that the weapons would have little if any effect on the bitch herself - she was a sorceress after all. Still, the familiar feel of the gun in his hands comforted him some.
He didn't really know what he was going to do once he found her. He had no idea what constituted a "gift" from her, but he knew he didn't want it. He'd agreed to meet her with the vague notion that in doing so he could draw her attention away from Ginger, who for some reason figured putting herself in danger just to spite him would be a good idea. But the further he got from the relative safety of the complex, the closer he got to the river, the more he realized just how stupid and pointless this was. He had to wonder when it was he'd crossed the line from trying to be less of a self-centered ass who ran at the first sign of trouble to being the kind of guy who deliberately walked into this kind of shit.
He stopped. He could hear the river, the barest hints of sound starting to filter through the trees. "Fuck this," he bit out. He was a fucking idiot.