[ Fish— Peter hadn't noticed that. He leans forwards slightly so as to see the garment better, and then dares to take it into his hands — dares, because he can still hardly believe that any moment is really real. Everything is a dream, or a nightmare, but
but in this moment, this is real. Somehow. He can feel it's real in his hands, the soft fabric of it against his thumbs. He's staring (Peter's special skill, really), and then swallows again as he gently folds it with care as though afraid it'll break. Nothing lasts long in his hands, but he'll take care of this. ]
Thank you. You're very kind.
[ He's studying his lunch guest more closely now, drawn together by the casual, but meaningful, intimacy of sitting at a table together with good food between them. ]
You've been here a while? If... you know how winters are here.
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but in this moment, this is real. Somehow. He can feel it's real in his hands, the soft fabric of it against his thumbs. He's staring (Peter's special skill, really), and then swallows again as he gently folds it with care as though afraid it'll break. Nothing lasts long in his hands, but he'll take care of this. ]
Thank you. You're very kind.
[ He's studying his lunch guest more closely now, drawn together by the casual, but meaningful, intimacy of sitting at a table together with good food between them. ]
You've been here a while? If... you know how winters are here.