[ It hits Peter deeply — cuts into him like the end of something too sharp, too familiar. He stands there feeling something that seems even beyond simple empathy. Like yet another ghost visits him in that moment, slips through his bones, leaves him shuddering quietly. His eyes shift, visibly wounded, raw in some weird way that maybe looks like he's about to cry. Thankfully, he doesn't.... That's Just How Peter Looks. ]
I'm sorry.
[ It's never enough to say those two words, but Peter genuinely means it, and just as genuinely sounds like he does. His voice is just as raw as the look in his eyes, something quietly hoarse to his throat. ]
Fern helped you? [ He's assuming that's who; Peter knows they live together. ] Luna helped me with.... mine, too. It's good not to have to— to do it alone.
no subject
I'm sorry.
[ It's never enough to say those two words, but Peter genuinely means it, and just as genuinely sounds like he does. His voice is just as raw as the look in his eyes, something quietly hoarse to his throat. ]
Fern helped you? [ He's assuming that's who; Peter knows they live together. ] Luna helped me with.... mine, too. It's good not to have to— to do it alone.