She'd been heading for the door and then turns to look at him.
"You don't know that. Did you see the look on his face when he described what happened to the others? I know you hate them, but he's not like the Invaders, either. He... has the potential to be more like Donald."
"He's not a pet, Astrid. He's not even completely human. You really think Windmark was any different than this guy? They function on pure logic. We shouldn't be coddling them, we should be--" Peter breaks off with a pained hiss, ducking his head and stabilizing himself with a hand against the wall. Another headache.
He brushes her off with angry, albeit weak, motions. "I'm fine... I'm fine! I just... need to sit down."
And he goes to do just that, the bed creaking and not a small amount of dust pluming from the mattress in the process. He fumbles for the painkillers in his pocket and downs four in a dry swallow.
He laughs, another sharp, bitter sound. "Where else would I be, Astrid?" And that's really all that needs to be said, isn't it? Etta, Walter, Olivia... they're all gone. It's just him now.
"We shouldn't even be here. None of this should be here. And you're worried about where I'm living?"
"You know what? Yeah. I am. Because whether or not we're supposed to be here, we're here anyway, and I don't want to see a friend living like this. You're coming with me. I moved into a house, there's plenty of space for everyone." Astrid stands, gathering more of the clothing. "Come on."
Well, point Astrid, then. He has to follow you now because you're stealing all of his clothes.
"I told you-- I'm fine," Peter protests, but when he stands up it's with a wince. "You don't have to look after me, I'm not--" He almost says 'Walter', bites it off instead.
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"Nothing happened. That's the problem." And then, "I don't think we should move him."
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Astrid looks about the place, then gathers up the clothing. "If any of these fit October I'll return them when I get him some of his own."
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"You don't know that. Did you see the look on his face when he described what happened to the others? I know you hate them, but he's not like the Invaders, either. He... has the potential to be more like Donald."
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"You're making a mistake."
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"What is it, what's wrong?"
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And he goes to do just that, the bed creaking and not a small amount of dust pluming from the mattress in the process. He fumbles for the painkillers in his pocket and downs four in a dry swallow.
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"Peter... What's been happening? Why are you staying alone in this place? Talk to me."
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"We shouldn't even be here. None of this should be here. And you're worried about where I'm living?"
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"I told you-- I'm fine," Peter protests, but when he stands up it's with a wince. "You don't have to look after me, I'm not--" He almost says 'Walter', bites it off instead.