( Peter's actually not trying to snoop around. In fact, until the young woman approaches and subsequently snaps him out of the odd sort of trance he's in, he has no idea he's even up here at all. Because it isn't quite Peter who's found his way to the upper levels of the foreboding home — but rather, something else. Something ancient and powerful and so aware of what strange sensations are prickling from this place. Something that's been staring wide-eyed and unblinking at those skeletons, following a few of them around until making its way upstairs.
Then, someone speaks— and Peter's jolted back into himself, albeit sloppily. His eyes are glossy and dazed (...of course, this may also be attributed to all the pot he's been smoking); his mouth tipped open. He looks like he's just woken up and has to remember where he is. ...Who he is. )
What? ( He says, stupidly, ogling the girl for a moment. (The thing, still so present in him, immediately recognises her; it had caught a glimpse of her around the city last month. It remembers that her colour was silver, with black around the edges of it. The demon took note; it won't forget. And it wonders what her colour meant.) )
Oh. Uh.... Sorry, I don't— ( Peter hears music coming from downstairs, a little muffled from the room it's in. Awareness seeps in slow and surreal, a little like a dream. ) —This is Paul's birthday party, right?
iii. 'investigating'
Then, someone speaks— and Peter's jolted back into himself, albeit sloppily. His eyes are glossy and dazed (...of course, this may also be attributed to all the pot he's been smoking); his mouth tipped open. He looks like he's just woken up and has to remember where he is. ...Who he is. )
What? ( He says, stupidly, ogling the girl for a moment. (The thing, still so present in him, immediately recognises her; it had caught a glimpse of her around the city last month. It remembers that her colour was silver, with black around the edges of it. The demon took note; it won't forget. And it wonders what her colour meant.) )
Oh. Uh.... Sorry, I don't— ( Peter hears music coming from downstairs, a little muffled from the room it's in. Awareness seeps in slow and surreal, a little like a dream. ) —This is Paul's birthday party, right?