Peter's not discounting it by any means, especially not after the information he's revealed (a rare helpful input from him..... enjoy this moment while it lasts, Robby....)
He remembers. Dimly, strangely, but it's something he remembers. (Now as to how valid his memory is..... who can say. Peter's mind isn't the most reliable source of anything.) ]
Not long, I think. A few days, maybe? [ Before he woke up here. Peter can't know the reality of it, that those people were watching him for his entire life. There, always in the shadows. They knew what he'd become someday.
But for now he works his memory as best as he can, brow knitting as he frowns, eyes dropping downwards for a moment. ]
I think they were trying to.... scare me or something. One of them was at my school. Like... screaming at me. I don'tβ [ His head gives an odd jerky movement, like a shake. He knows it sounds crazy. That's what he's most afraid of, deep down, that he's fucking crazy. But if there's some kind of sense to be made through it all..... ]
β....I thought maybe it was all just in my head or something.
[ The words feel like a confession, voiced soft. He's still not sure what was real, what wasn't, but finally he's looking back up at the other teen. ]
Why would people just... kidnap us? Put us in some fucking city?
[ He's thinking one thing one second, another the next--because maybe Peter had seen the people behind this around, had been alert of his surroundings in a way that wasn't just simple paranoia. But as Peter continues, talks about someone screaming at him... what the hell was going on in this guy's life, exactly? Why would that have anything to do with whoever's behind this now?
It doesn't dismiss that something was going on. Something else, something unrelated, maybe. And was it real? Robby does ponder that question for a second. The way that the guy is, the trauma, or-- whatever it is that he's gone through, that Robby can't understand.
But do people not in the right headspace imagine people screaming at them? That's too much to dismiss. Robby doesn't want to, even if he can't exactly figure out what he should think. A place he's usually in when he comes to Peter: if he should take what he says sincerely, or take it with more doubt than he would another person. ]
...I don't know. [ Still, he wants to be honest as he can. Looking back at the other guy, his expression helpless. This is all they are: two guys in a hallway, as lost as the other. But there's one more lost in another way, Robby realises, and though it might be a touchy subject, he won't dance around it; folding his arms across his chest, giving Peter a slightly quizzical hold of his brow. ]
Have you ever had this happen before? Thinking it's in your head? We're all still stuck here-- [ he doesn't make the point quickly, but he wants to make it clear: not everything is in Peter's head, ] --but was anything else going on before you started seeing these people? It sounds like something was going on...
[ His frown deepens. ] But nobody else have said anything about seeing people before they showed here.
[ Doubt is never far away. It's there pressing its bony thin fingertips against the top layer of his skin, always. Peter feels it nudging inwards as he voices what he does, and as he watches Robby react to it, and then Doubt's fingertips start to curve downwards, scraping nails hard enough against his skin to open up a wound, make room for it to crawl in. Peter doesn't know either, and it couldn't be more clear in his face, the way his frown makes his mouth slope down a little too far, like a mask. The way his eyes flicker nervously and then drop away from Robby's pair, not quite able to meet the other boy's gaze anymore. He acts like he's guilty of something, and he feels like he is, restless, nervous.
He doesn't know. Andβ 'nobody else have said anything about seeing people before they showed here'
The implication has Doubt finally crawling through inside and making house in him, the way it does time and time again. Nobody else has said anything about it. Just him. Just him, and maybe The People he'd seen actually aren't connected to this place at all. At first it started making some kind of sense β you see weird fucking people, get stalked by them, end up fucking kidnapped.
But now.... it feels more like the outlier. The anomaly. No one else. And the question pulses in him like a second heartbeat. 'Have you ever had this happen before? Thinking it's in your head?'
Peter doesn't want to say, but maybe his reluctance and the way he's looking, acting, speaks for itself. He can't lie, but he can't say the truth either. That'd make it real. That'd make him, and everything wrong with him real.
But eventually he has to speak again. So he does, voice staggered, like he's forcing the words out of himself. He still doesn't look at Robby. ]
Things have beenβ everything's been fucked up for awhile now. I can'tβ um.
[ So much was going on before he started seeing The People, but how does he say any of it? He couldn't even explain it to himself, can't form sense from the nightmare of it all. (He'd seen things, heard things, felt things, but so does anyone who's losing their fucking mind, right. He killed his sister and had a mental breakdown. Same as his mother, fumbling to light a candle and join hands in the living room one night, trying to conjure Charlie's spirit. None of it's real. Everything'sβ a breakdown.) ]
I haven't always known what's actually happening. I know that soundsβ ....I know how it sounds. But things have been.... bad.
[ A hand moves up, fingers finding wayward curls and fisting into them, pressing his palm against his eye with a soft sound. In a matter of moments he's talked himself back out of it, and everything feels like it's sinking inwards. ]
Maybe it didn't happen. Those people.... I don't fucking know.
[ What's even possible to do? Things have been fucked for a while, and Robby could ask the guy to clarify, but what else would it be than perverse? Useless, when either it's about Peter himself or his life, Robby will be in the exact same position in being able to help. Wondering if he should encourage the idea of seeing people--because maybe he did, and maybe they were connected to what's happened to them, but if they keep searching and they find nothing?
Is it better to plant optimism you're not even sure of? There's just some problems you can't handle, get a grip of, and Robby stands clueless, a look of pity in the way he does keep his eyes on Peter for a moment, then draws away.
He turns, and puts a hand on his shoulder--a signal. A firm grip, that he only keeps on Peter for as long as it needs to, to get him to look at him. ]
Come on. Let's keep walking.
[ Get out of this building, get some fresh air. It's nothing right now, it's not much; it's just giving them both a moment--to think, to not think, to come up to no new conclusion. To just walk. And it's more for Peter than Robby himself, but he thinks it could do some good.
Just to have that moment, and Robby can speak up again eventually. But he doesn't want to rush Peter either. ]
[ Voicing it aloud feels wrong, even just as much as he's said (and there's so much more, so much it makes his head feel like it'll explode if he touches against certain thoughts). He doesn't talk about these things. He doesn't.
But there they are. Voiced and made real (even if he's never really sure what is real...) Things said, that can't be taken back. Confessions of his own.... short-comings, more glimpses of what's fucking wrong with him. He probably sounds insane, an idea that twists in his stomach like wires tangled up, making sharp little cuts. He doesn't want to seem crazy. Doesn't want to be crazy. It scares him more than anything, the thought of losing his mind.
Peter stands there with his palm to an eye, some dumb little gesture to... ground himself? Feel something real? It hurts a little, as he nudges against the socket of his eye a bit more, applies pressure.
Then there's another pressure, one coming from somewhere else. He pauses, startled, but not in a way that makes him flinch back. Slowly the boy lowers his hand from his eye, head turned slightly in direction of the other teen β brows lifted, eyes wide. He's surprised by it, and maybe for many reasons. Maybe because he isn't used to it, being touched, grounded that way. Maybe because he wouldn't expect someone to be okay with that personal space lessened near someone who probably seems crazy as fuck, someone losing their mind.
Either way, it does what Robby intended it to β gets Peter's attention on him, tugging him out of the swirling drain of thoughts that threaten to swallow him up if he stands there thinking too much about anything. He blinks, then nodsβ ]
Yeah, okay.
[ A simple response, but with it, a relief. Keep walking. So he will, long legs finally moving again after the brief moment of paralysis. Hands slip back into the pockets of his hoodie as he moves, heads out of the building. It's after a few minutes of silence, of walking, that something comes. ]
[ It doesn't ease off the heaviness between them. The subject doesn't leave, sticking, and it rolls around in Robby's head without a place to settle. Because he does wonder, how much of what Peter saw was real? Was a hallucination? How deep does his mental illness go? What's safe to encourage, or what should he ignore so he doesn't?
But the thoughts never go anywhere meaningful -- what the fuck can he conclude? He feels pity, if anything; that whatever Peter had going on before, now he was stuck here to make it ten times worse. If he was going through some sort of mental breakdown, Fucked City wasn't helping with it. He hadn't met anyone that could help with it.
Like being trapped here wasn't enough of an issue, without these complications going on in your life. And that's what sticks with Robby, some semblance of understanding, and yet none at all. He hasn't a clue.
But he's somewhat glad, when Peter speaks. ]
Thanks for not freaking about if I think you're crazy? [ It's light around the edges, errs close to a joke, and yet it's too softly spoken to be dismissive. It's genuine. Robby means it. ] I don't know if what you saw was real or not, and I don't know what was going on in your life before you got here. It all sounds like...you had a lot of shit happening one way or another. I mean, if you're seeing people screaming at you--there had to be some reason for it, right? Something going on before that? That doesn't...start, for no reason.
[ He's got his hands shoved in his pocket, and there comes that doubt in him. Should he touch on the subject? He can't help it, doesn't have that experience with delusions that makes him want to believe that it was a figment of this guy's imagination, and Robby looks over to Peter. ]
Do you wanna keep talking about it? I don't mind, if you want to. It's your choice.
[ If Peter wants to drop it, they can. He allows him the opening. Even if he wonders, has Peter talked to anyone about this before? What he's been experiencing.
[ The directness startles him β Peter's looking up and over again, though this time it's as he's continuing to walk at a leisurely pace, brows lifted as a soft sound escapes him. The echo of a laugh, a rare sound in the teen these days, butβ okay yeah he wasn't going to say it, but yeah that's... that's pretty much exactly it, isn't it.
And there's something about Robby's directness with that, just putting it out on the table, that loosens some of that lingering tightness in the other's chest. Being seen can be the worst fucking thing in the world, and maybe it's what he fears the most in many ways, but right now? ...It's kind of a relief?? That someone else just said the thing. There's the barest hint of a tug at the corner of his own mouth, and then he's looking straight ahead again as he keeps walking, listening, smile slowly easing off into something more solemn again as the words continue.
The fact the other boy isn't running off screaming or looking at him weird, or dipping out of this little excursion to the grocery store.... It's something. It's something that does matter. And then Robby's asking him if he wants to keep talking about it, and Peter draws in another soft sound, an inhale this time, something sucked back inwards, giving a pause. He doesn't want to, he thinks, at first β he wants to forget all about all of this, except....
....maybe he can talk about some of it. If Robby's not doing the aforementioned screaming and running off, or looking at him like he's insane and dangerous....
Maybe it'd be nice to, in some way. Nice to... fucking talk. Even if the idea hardly sits easy in him, and Peter swallows against his own pause, clears his throat a little. ]
I uh.... I guess it's like. I don't even know how to say most of this shit. [ He starts there, and it's not shutting down the conversation or pulling away from it. A door that sits halfway opened, and he lingers there in the threshold, but the important thing here is that he can say as much as he wants, or can say. Right? There's a comfort to that thought, to what Robby's given him with a few simple words. ]
Butβ yeah, I've known shit's been weird for awhile. Like... my mom? Her side of the family's... fucked up. Like... really fucked up.
[ He gives a soft 'whew' sound, almost something light-hearted, but he's also painfully aware of fresh wounds that ache up under everything. (Is his mother dead? Did sheβ did she kill herself that night? That impossible, horrible night? Did he dream the whole thing? Has he lost his entire mind?) ]
After my grandma βher momβ died, shit just really.... went crazy. Um.
[ A thought sinks in, slow and strange, as part of him still struggles desperately to find some... logic to it. Some option that isn't he's lost his fucking marbles. Maybe.... it does make sense...? After what he'd done. When you kill a little girl that way, when you're walking around the streets and everyone knows what you did, maybe.... ]
....I did fuck something up. Iβ.... And maybe people were mad at me or some shit. Strangers around my town. Um. [ He swallows again. He's gone from theories of being kidnapped by the people stalking him to earning strangers' vitriol because of what he'd done to Charlie. His throat feels hollow, but he keeps talking anyway. ]
I don't know. There's a lot of things it could've been, I guess. I don't know how to find out for sure, butβ you said some people are looking around, trying to uh, figure shit out? Test the limits?
[ He hadn't forgotten that input from Robby several minutes' back, it'd gotten lost in the flow of his own.... paranoid upset, but it's a thought Peter can return to now. He has to wonder just what Robby might've heard, seen, others doing. ]
[ There's something that does burst when Peter laughs; the tension, maybe, if not entirely. But it does ease--or does it humour?--the situation, in some morbid sense. So either Peter is going crazy, or this shit is actually happening to him, and Robby knows as well as Peter seems to. At least, by what Peter's told him.
But he's willing to talk, to explain. Mentions about his family on his mom's side, gives a hm that's heavy and understanding to Peter's whew--playful, a little, but still understanding.
Except, as a possible point to screaming people comes up--Peter diverts the subject. Back to the city itself, and even Robby's caught off-guard. A small uh before he starts, but- ]
Yeah--like staying inside stores and seeing who stocks them up, or what happens if you go through the train tunnels. Because what happens when you try to go too far into the city? That's crazy. [ And actually, speaking of crazy, and Robby waves a forefinger. ] --You remember how that food showed up when we met? That happens. We weren't losing it--other people confirmed it.
[ Robby will allow the sidetracked conversation for now, just to let Peter have a reprieve. But he is wondering about the supposed fucked up thing that Peter did, but also where Peter's mind is going, too. ]
[ It's the most he's said to anyone β here or back home β about all of it. The most he's ever put into direct words. And yeah, the natural movement is to skirt past it as quickly as he can, tip into something else, and it's not even something he consciously is aware he's doing; it happens almost on instinct. Opening Up is weird and wrong, or at least it always has been, and so there it comes.
Though he is genuinely curious, too. And he's lifting those brows a bit higher as Robby continues, thoughtful in the kind of nervous way, like a kid asking about something taboo and weird. ]
People're trying that kind of stuff? [ He wouldn't have even thought to. And then, if he had, he'd have been too afraid to act on any of it. No, Peter's just gone through the motions, letting things happen to him here, not questioning or fighting any of it. He's equal parts unnerved and impressed by the thought.... gazing at the ground and sucking against the inside of one cheek while they walk. ]
So I guess we weren't having some kind of uh, shared hallucination after all. [ Back at the restaurant. Not unless it's a city-wide shared hallucination.... can shit like that happen? His dad would know. He doesn't want to think too much on that. ]
.....Could be aliens. Has anyone thought about that? Like. Doing experiments on us.
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no subject
Peter's not discounting it by any means, especially not after the information he's revealed (a rare helpful input from him..... enjoy this moment while it lasts, Robby....)
He remembers. Dimly, strangely, but it's something he remembers. (Now as to how valid his memory is..... who can say. Peter's mind isn't the most reliable source of anything.) ]
Not long, I think. A few days, maybe? [ Before he woke up here. Peter can't know the reality of it, that those people were watching him for his entire life. There, always in the shadows. They knew what he'd become someday.
But for now he works his memory as best as he can, brow knitting as he frowns, eyes dropping downwards for a moment. ]
I think they were trying to.... scare me or something. One of them was at my school. Like... screaming at me. I don'tβ [ His head gives an odd jerky movement, like a shake. He knows it sounds crazy. That's what he's most afraid of, deep down, that he's fucking crazy. But if there's some kind of sense to be made through it all..... ]
β....I thought maybe it was all just in my head or something.
[ The words feel like a confession, voiced soft. He's still not sure what was real, what wasn't, but finally he's looking back up at the other teen. ]
Why would people just... kidnap us? Put us in some fucking city?
no subject
It doesn't dismiss that something was going on. Something else, something unrelated, maybe. And was it real? Robby does ponder that question for a second. The way that the guy is, the trauma, or-- whatever it is that he's gone through, that Robby can't understand.
But do people not in the right headspace imagine people screaming at them? That's too much to dismiss. Robby doesn't want to, even if he can't exactly figure out what he should think. A place he's usually in when he comes to Peter: if he should take what he says sincerely, or take it with more doubt than he would another person. ]
...I don't know. [ Still, he wants to be honest as he can. Looking back at the other guy, his expression helpless. This is all they are: two guys in a hallway, as lost as the other. But there's one more lost in another way, Robby realises, and though it might be a touchy subject, he won't dance around it; folding his arms across his chest, giving Peter a slightly quizzical hold of his brow. ]
Have you ever had this happen before? Thinking it's in your head? We're all still stuck here-- [ he doesn't make the point quickly, but he wants to make it clear: not everything is in Peter's head, ] --but was anything else going on before you started seeing these people? It sounds like something was going on...
[ His frown deepens. ] But nobody else have said anything about seeing people before they showed here.
no subject
He doesn't know. Andβ 'nobody else have said anything about seeing people before they showed here'
The implication has Doubt finally crawling through inside and making house in him, the way it does time and time again. Nobody else has said anything about it. Just him. Just him, and maybe The People he'd seen actually aren't connected to this place at all. At first it started making some kind of sense β you see weird fucking people, get stalked by them, end up fucking kidnapped.
But now.... it feels more like the outlier. The anomaly. No one else. And the question pulses in him like a second heartbeat. 'Have you ever had this happen before? Thinking it's in your head?'
Peter doesn't want to say, but maybe his reluctance and the way he's looking, acting, speaks for itself. He can't lie, but he can't say the truth either. That'd make it real. That'd make him, and everything wrong with him real.
But eventually he has to speak again. So he does, voice staggered, like he's forcing the words out of himself. He still doesn't look at Robby. ]
Things have beenβ everything's been fucked up for awhile now. I can'tβ um.
[ So much was going on before he started seeing The People, but how does he say any of it? He couldn't even explain it to himself, can't form sense from the nightmare of it all. (He'd seen things, heard things, felt things, but so does anyone who's losing their fucking mind, right. He killed his sister and had a mental breakdown. Same as his mother, fumbling to light a candle and join hands in the living room one night, trying to conjure Charlie's spirit. None of it's real. Everything'sβ a breakdown.) ]
I haven't always known what's actually happening. I know that soundsβ ....I know how it sounds. But things have been.... bad.
[ A hand moves up, fingers finding wayward curls and fisting into them, pressing his palm against his eye with a soft sound. In a matter of moments he's talked himself back out of it, and everything feels like it's sinking inwards. ]
Maybe it didn't happen. Those people.... I don't fucking know.
no subject
Is it better to plant optimism you're not even sure of? There's just some problems you can't handle, get a grip of, and Robby stands clueless, a look of pity in the way he does keep his eyes on Peter for a moment, then draws away.
He turns, and puts a hand on his shoulder--a signal. A firm grip, that he only keeps on Peter for as long as it needs to, to get him to look at him. ]
Come on. Let's keep walking.
[ Get out of this building, get some fresh air. It's nothing right now, it's not much; it's just giving them both a moment--to think, to not think, to come up to no new conclusion. To just walk. And it's more for Peter than Robby himself, but he thinks it could do some good.
Just to have that moment, and Robby can speak up again eventually. But he doesn't want to rush Peter either. ]
no subject
But there they are. Voiced and made real (even if he's never really sure what is real...) Things said, that can't be taken back. Confessions of his own.... short-comings, more glimpses of what's fucking wrong with him. He probably sounds insane, an idea that twists in his stomach like wires tangled up, making sharp little cuts. He doesn't want to seem crazy. Doesn't want to be crazy. It scares him more than anything, the thought of losing his mind.
Peter stands there with his palm to an eye, some dumb little gesture to... ground himself? Feel something real? It hurts a little, as he nudges against the socket of his eye a bit more, applies pressure.
Then there's another pressure, one coming from somewhere else. He pauses, startled, but not in a way that makes him flinch back. Slowly the boy lowers his hand from his eye, head turned slightly in direction of the other teen β brows lifted, eyes wide. He's surprised by it, and maybe for many reasons. Maybe because he isn't used to it, being touched, grounded that way. Maybe because he wouldn't expect someone to be okay with that personal space lessened near someone who probably seems crazy as fuck, someone losing their mind.
Either way, it does what Robby intended it to β gets Peter's attention on him, tugging him out of the swirling drain of thoughts that threaten to swallow him up if he stands there thinking too much about anything. He blinks, then nodsβ ]
Yeah, okay.
[ A simple response, but with it, a relief. Keep walking. So he will, long legs finally moving again after the brief moment of paralysis. Hands slip back into the pockets of his hoodie as he moves, heads out of the building. It's after a few minutes of silence, of walking, that something comes. ]
Thanks.
no subject
But the thoughts never go anywhere meaningful -- what the fuck can he conclude? He feels pity, if anything; that whatever Peter had going on before, now he was stuck here to make it ten times worse. If he was going through some sort of mental breakdown, Fucked City wasn't helping with it. He hadn't met anyone that could help with it.
Like being trapped here wasn't enough of an issue, without these complications going on in your life. And that's what sticks with Robby, some semblance of understanding, and yet none at all. He hasn't a clue.
But he's somewhat glad, when Peter speaks. ]
Thanks for not freaking about if I think you're crazy? [ It's light around the edges, errs close to a joke, and yet it's too softly spoken to be dismissive. It's genuine. Robby means it. ] I don't know if what you saw was real or not, and I don't know what was going on in your life before you got here. It all sounds like...you had a lot of shit happening one way or another. I mean, if you're seeing people screaming at you--there had to be some reason for it, right? Something going on before that? That doesn't...start, for no reason.
[ He's got his hands shoved in his pocket, and there comes that doubt in him. Should he touch on the subject? He can't help it, doesn't have that experience with delusions that makes him want to believe that it was a figment of this guy's imagination, and Robby looks over to Peter. ]
Do you wanna keep talking about it? I don't mind, if you want to. It's your choice.
[ If Peter wants to drop it, they can. He allows him the opening. Even if he wonders, has Peter talked to anyone about this before? What he's been experiencing.
Has he ever had the opportunity, or choice? ]
no subject
And there's something about Robby's directness with that, just putting it out on the table, that loosens some of that lingering tightness in the other's chest. Being seen can be the worst fucking thing in the world, and maybe it's what he fears the most in many ways, but right now? ...It's kind of a relief?? That someone else just said the thing. There's the barest hint of a tug at the corner of his own mouth, and then he's looking straight ahead again as he keeps walking, listening, smile slowly easing off into something more solemn again as the words continue.
The fact the other boy isn't running off screaming or looking at him weird, or dipping out of this little excursion to the grocery store.... It's something. It's something that does matter. And then Robby's asking him if he wants to keep talking about it, and Peter draws in another soft sound, an inhale this time, something sucked back inwards, giving a pause. He doesn't want to, he thinks, at first β he wants to forget all about all of this, except....
....maybe he can talk about some of it. If Robby's not doing the aforementioned screaming and running off, or looking at him like he's insane and dangerous....
Maybe it'd be nice to, in some way. Nice to... fucking talk. Even if the idea hardly sits easy in him, and Peter swallows against his own pause, clears his throat a little. ]
I uh.... I guess it's like. I don't even know how to say most of this shit. [ He starts there, and it's not shutting down the conversation or pulling away from it. A door that sits halfway opened, and he lingers there in the threshold, but the important thing here is that he can say as much as he wants, or can say. Right? There's a comfort to that thought, to what Robby's given him with a few simple words. ]
Butβ yeah, I've known shit's been weird for awhile. Like... my mom? Her side of the family's... fucked up. Like... really fucked up.
[ He gives a soft 'whew' sound, almost something light-hearted, but he's also painfully aware of fresh wounds that ache up under everything. (Is his mother dead? Did sheβ did she kill herself that night? That impossible, horrible night? Did he dream the whole thing? Has he lost his entire mind?) ]
After my grandma βher momβ died, shit just really.... went crazy. Um.
[ A thought sinks in, slow and strange, as part of him still struggles desperately to find some... logic to it. Some option that isn't he's lost his fucking marbles. Maybe.... it does make sense...? After what he'd done. When you kill a little girl that way, when you're walking around the streets and everyone knows what you did, maybe.... ]
....I did fuck something up. Iβ.... And maybe people were mad at me or some shit. Strangers around my town. Um. [ He swallows again. He's gone from theories of being kidnapped by the people stalking him to earning strangers' vitriol because of what he'd done to Charlie. His throat feels hollow, but he keeps talking anyway. ]
I don't know. There's a lot of things it could've been, I guess. I don't know how to find out for sure, butβ you said some people are looking around, trying to uh, figure shit out? Test the limits?
[ He hadn't forgotten that input from Robby several minutes' back, it'd gotten lost in the flow of his own.... paranoid upset, but it's a thought Peter can return to now. He has to wonder just what Robby might've heard, seen, others doing. ]
no subject
But he's willing to talk, to explain. Mentions about his family on his mom's side, gives a hm that's heavy and understanding to Peter's whew--playful, a little, but still understanding.
Except, as a possible point to screaming people comes up--Peter diverts the subject. Back to the city itself, and even Robby's caught off-guard. A small uh before he starts, but- ]
Yeah--like staying inside stores and seeing who stocks them up, or what happens if you go through the train tunnels. Because what happens when you try to go too far into the city? That's crazy. [ And actually, speaking of crazy, and Robby waves a forefinger. ] --You remember how that food showed up when we met? That happens. We weren't losing it--other people confirmed it.
[ Robby will allow the sidetracked conversation for now, just to let Peter have a reprieve. But he is wondering about the supposed fucked up thing that Peter did, but also where Peter's mind is going, too. ]
no subject
Though he is genuinely curious, too. And he's lifting those brows a bit higher as Robby continues, thoughtful in the kind of nervous way, like a kid asking about something taboo and weird. ]
People're trying that kind of stuff? [ He wouldn't have even thought to. And then, if he had, he'd have been too afraid to act on any of it. No, Peter's just gone through the motions, letting things happen to him here, not questioning or fighting any of it. He's equal parts unnerved and impressed by the thought.... gazing at the ground and sucking against the inside of one cheek while they walk. ]
So I guess we weren't having some kind of uh, shared hallucination after all. [ Back at the restaurant. Not unless it's a city-wide shared hallucination.... can shit like that happen? His dad would know. He doesn't want to think too much on that. ]
.....Could be aliens. Has anyone thought about that? Like. Doing experiments on us.