[by now, one would have supposed that he had settled into this new life of his, but despite having handled this one-way trip into the future well enough — the 24th century had nothing on the multiverse — peter still managed to look haggard and a bit like a homeless bum. the mismatched shoes and threadbare coat did little to discourage that snap interpretation, nor did his propensity to hurriedly inhale meals in the communal kitchens.
today was shaping to be another day like the one before it. and the one before it. and the one before that one: working on his summer bod (just like his winter bod but with more pop-sickles), trying to build a new set of web shooters, grabbing a sandwich.
at least he would've grabbed a sandwich. turns out his carefully wrapped and labeled pressed and grilled assorted meat and cheese was missing.]
That's weird. Could've sworn I left it in this fridge.
[was it possible that he ate it in his sleep? maybe. was it more likely that one of the various other people sharing refuge in the safehouse was the guilty party? probably. a quick peek in their communal eating area gives him just one possible culprit: a small woman whose appearance says she would rather be left alone. not that there's any evidence. best to play it cool before accusing people of eating his food.]
Hey.
[now that the super cool, monosyllabic greeting was taken care of, peter casually sat down across from her. hopefully that wasn't too much of an invasion of space.]
You look like you're an observant person. Have you seen any sneaky sandwich thieves around?
[ jyn looks directly at the gangly man in front of her. if he is asking about sandwich thieves then he is probably missing a sandwich. it is probably (definitely) the sandwich in her hands and in her stomach.
that is entirely besides the point. ]
Haven't seen anything. I'm blind.
[ she is literally making eye contact with him but that is the story she is going with. ]
[peter resists the urge to blurt out 'sounds fake, but okay' like someone easily half his age — miles, gwen, peni (okay maybe not her) — might say but that doesn't stop his face from reacting with raised eyebrow and slanted mouth. blind. he can roll with that.]
Hear something?
[he taps his foot, half expecting her to try and say that she's hard of hearing too somehow. who does she think she is?]
[ her head tilts slightly as she takes another bite of her sandwich. ]
Heard a lot of things. Heard you by the fridge, sure you didn't take your own sandwich?
[ that seems likely, sure.
but wait for it. she picks up the other half of her (his!) sandwich, and offers it out to him. out of the kindness of her heart, obviously. ] You're welcome to have half of mine.
[errrk. that sound? peter's jaw metaphorically hitting the floor. his head darts from her to the fridge and then back to her.
wow. she's eating his sandwich and has the audacity to share. his stomach grumbles in reply. hangry would be an appropriate adjective right about now.]
We're gonna put a fork in the whole part where you just asked me if I took my own sandwich because I've heard some crazy things before but that's gotta take the cake. [not strictly true but she doesn't need to know that.]
But your sandwich looks a whole lot like mine. [his acusatory tone doesn't stop him from reaching back out for her (his) sandwich.]
[she must know that this is tantamount to a declaration of war. no more mister nice spidey.]
There's over a thousand different combinations of sandwich I could make with as few of the options we've got. It's pretty unlikely that you've managed to make a roast beef on wheat with just a hint of pesto and those little crunchy onion things.
[logic. he has it. let's see her try and refute it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
how's about some meadowlark adjacent-y stuff
today was shaping to be another day like the one before it. and the one before it. and the one before that one: working on his summer bod (just like his winter bod but with more pop-sickles), trying to build a new set of web shooters, grabbing a sandwich.
at least he would've grabbed a sandwich. turns out his carefully wrapped and labeled pressed and grilled assorted meat and cheese was missing.]
That's weird. Could've sworn I left it in this fridge.
[was it possible that he ate it in his sleep? maybe. was it more likely that one of the various other people sharing refuge in the safehouse was the guilty party? probably. a quick peek in their communal eating area gives him just one possible culprit: a small woman whose appearance says she would rather be left alone. not that there's any evidence. best to play it cool before accusing people of eating his food.]
Hey.
[now that the super cool, monosyllabic greeting was taken care of, peter casually sat down across from her. hopefully that wasn't too much of an invasion of space.]
You look like you're an observant person. Have you seen any sneaky sandwich thieves around?
[wow. way to be subtle, peter.]
no subject
that is entirely besides the point. ]
Haven't seen anything. I'm blind.
[ she is literally making eye contact with him but that is the story she is going with. ]
no subject
Hear something?
[he taps his foot, half expecting her to try and say that she's hard of hearing too somehow. who does she think she is?]
no subject
Heard a lot of things. Heard you by the fridge, sure you didn't take your own sandwich?
[ that seems likely, sure.
but wait for it. she picks up the other half of her (his!) sandwich, and offers it out to him. out of the kindness of her heart, obviously. ] You're welcome to have half of mine.
no subject
wow. she's eating his sandwich and has the audacity to share. his stomach grumbles in reply. hangry would be an appropriate adjective right about now.]
We're gonna put a fork in the whole part where you just asked me if I took my own sandwich because I've heard some crazy things before but that's gotta take the cake. [not strictly true but she doesn't need to know that.]
But your sandwich looks a whole lot like mine. [his acusatory tone doesn't stop him from reaching back out for her (his) sandwich.]
no subject
There are only a finite number of sandwich options available here, that's not surprising.
[ this is the hill she will die on ]
no subject
There's over a thousand different combinations of sandwich I could make with as few of the options we've got. It's pretty unlikely that you've managed to make a roast beef on wheat with just a hint of pesto and those little crunchy onion things.
[logic. he has it. let's see her try and refute it.]