( Peter had noticed the woman off and on throughout the evening. But he hadn't known she was the maid.
This is, of course, his assumption. And he's startling at the appearance of her downstairs, where he is currently draped over the sofa, one long leg hiked up onto the arm of it, arms hugging onto someone else's jacket like it's a person. )
Oh— fuck—
( He's moving to sit up, eyes glassy and red from so, so much weed and whatever the fuck that Spice stuff was. As he sits up, a bong shaped like a machine gun rolls off of him and hits the floor. )
Sorry, ma'am. ( He hastily reaches to pick up his bong, anxious and subservient — which is kind of hilarious, considering he's six feet tall and the stuff of horror movies. But Peter is the sort of person who looks about ready to cry at any given moment.
And now he's looking hazily around the room, feeling dizzy and intimidated and nervous about all the mess the poor woman's going to have to deal with. (But... wasn't she right there partying with everyone else?) Unfortunately, Peter's brain, frazzled from years of being stoned, Ari Aster levels of trauma, and literal demons, simply doesn't work out any logical bits and pieces here. )
I'll help you clean... ( He's slurring a little as he says it, tongue thick and dry, still only half-awake at all. )
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This is, of course, his assumption. And he's startling at the appearance of her downstairs, where he is currently draped over the sofa, one long leg hiked up onto the arm of it, arms hugging onto someone else's jacket like it's a person. )
Oh— fuck—
( He's moving to sit up, eyes glassy and red from so, so much weed and whatever the fuck that Spice stuff was. As he sits up, a bong shaped like a machine gun rolls off of him and hits the floor. )
Sorry, ma'am. ( He hastily reaches to pick up his bong, anxious and subservient — which is kind of hilarious, considering he's six feet tall and the stuff of horror movies. But Peter is the sort of person who looks about ready to cry at any given moment.
And now he's looking hazily around the room, feeling dizzy and intimidated and nervous about all the mess the poor woman's going to have to deal with. (But... wasn't she right there partying with everyone else?) Unfortunately, Peter's brain, frazzled from years of being stoned, Ari Aster levels of trauma, and literal demons, simply doesn't work out any logical bits and pieces here. )
I'll help you clean... ( He's slurring a little as he says it, tongue thick and dry, still only half-awake at all. )