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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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.