ArchivedLogs:Peter is Terrible at Secrets

Peter is Terrible at Secrets
Dramatis Personae Peter, Emma	2013-03-10 Seriously if secrets were money Peter would make the US debt look positively rosey
Location <NYC> Hellfire Club - Upper East Side
The HFC is not a place for unsupervised children. And yet: Here we are. Unsupervised children. Well, singular, at the moment -- Peter does not seem to have anyone else with him. But teenagers are known to be like cockroaches; where there is one, there are usually sure to be more. This particular one goes by the name of 'Peter Parker'. He is dressed rather formally -- as formally as Parker can manage, anyway. A loose fitting red hoodie, unzippered; beneath that, a blue collared shirt and tie (clip-on), and dress slacks. Nice black polished shoes. Nothing too expensive -- in fact, the clothes are very 'discount bin' styled. Not the sort of clothes you'd expect to see a child of fortune to be wearing. Peter's currently meandering down the hallways of the library -- peering at the books with curiousity, even as he searches for someone (the image of another boy flitters in his head; reddish-black hair, an uneasy, awkward smile -- eyes that seem perpetually haunted). His thoughts are -- chaotic. Jumbled. Hard to read. He is /not/ a structured thinker; trying to catch hold of a single strand is an actual challenge. There are images of spiders -- of acrobatics -- of science, glue-guns, a flash of Oscorp (DANGER), oh hey Origin of Species I always wanted to read that OH MAN should I tell Harry but his father might be a bad guy I don't want to make Harry sad but maybe he should know hm this place really is fancy I wonder if I break something here if Uncle Ben and Aunt May would have to mortgage the house to pay it off-- Emma is curled up in one of the armchairs reading, taking a break from a hectic interview schedule with a glass of scotch. She's dressed in a white fluffy sweater and leggings with a soft knit skirt about her thighs. She looks up when a new mind enters, but cringes when she finds it a jumble. /Teenagers./ She takes a long drink from her glass as some of the information begins to filter through her brain and process into actual, useful information. Her synapses perk at the thoughts of glue-guns and Oscorp, causing her to look up from her book and peek at the young man. She smiles a little brighter and observes, quietly. Peter pops out from between two of the shelves -- catching sight of Emma. Buddy Holly glasses and a slightly awkward face -- hair that looks like it's in the process of trying to fly away and nest south for the winter. He gives a little jump. << OhGod, someone's here -- oh man she's pretty I should stop staring gotta find Harry -- >> a meek, apologetic smile -- and again, his thoughts plunge headlong into a jumble, mixing images of Harry with brief snippets of his father -- snippets from a video. Norman Osborn in a lab-coat, looking like he's in a PSA. A flash of something else, too. Strongly associated with Osborn-in-a-lab-coat. Humming, buzzing /drones/. Murderdrones, his brain seems to say. An image of them seeking and searching, humming and destroying. "Harry?" he asks, his voice low (this is a library, right?) in the other direction. Partly because he's looking for Harry, but partly so Emma won't ask him what he's /doing/ here. "No one else is in here," Emma speaks up, her tone library quiet as well, "Just me and the librarian." She picks up a brass book mark and slides it between the pages of her book and closes it, tilting her head as she studies him mentally, eyes scanning him physically as well. "Are you lost? Do you want me to help you find your friend?" Peter is an awkward, gangly teen -- but there's a lean meanness to him, too. Beneath Emma's perusal, he flushes pink -- his mind flashes with more images of Harry, focusing. "I -- yeah I guess I'm... a little lost. I was supposed to meet -- ah, Harry? He's -- friend of mine." Even for a teenager, his brain is /unusually/ fast. He's thinking something different every second. ADD, probably, but it might be the worst case Emma's ever seen. "Okay, Peter. My name is Emma. Can you tell me who Harry's father is? I can then figure out from some of the staff where he might be." Emma leaves her book on the arm of the chair as she gets to her feet, resisting the urge to stretch as she does. She tucks some of the hair that has escaped her bun and fringes her face back behind her ear, as she turns to one side to grab her tablet. "Uh... Oh. Right. Osborn. Norman Osborn." A flash of the man. Reddish hair. Smiling. Lab-coat. A snippet from a video feed, again. Other thoughts: 'PROJECT SENTINEL'. Murderdrones. Bad guy? More images, in a streaming series: A laboratory. Doctors working on devices. Richard Parker ID tag. Fear. Flash-drive. Sneaking. MURDERDRONES OH GOD. Running and dodging and weaving between city streets, up fire escapes, as buzzing machines hunt him in the night. A freckled girl peeking down an alleyway. Wide eyed surprise as she is SCOOPED up into his arms, right before an explosion -- cops ohGod. Everything flashes by so fast that if Emma so much as psychically /blinks/, she'll miss an entire thread of thought. Emma is luckily pulling open the club's schedule as she reviews the onslaught of images in the young man's brain. She willingly pulls back her telepathic senses and swallows hard, sifting through data on her tablet as well as what she's taken in mentally. "Hmmm. Let me see. Hm. No. I'm not seeing him on any of the official schedules, but we can go to the front desk and see if he has made any arrangements last minute." She turns back to Peter and smiles, extending a hand to the young teen, "Come with me?" "Oh... oh, sure. Actually I don't know if he's /here/ right now, I just know he's, like -- a member? Or something? And I was supposed to meet Harry here and I don't know they let me in through the front door, and..." Peter's starting to prattle. His hand reaches out, taking Emma's carefully. Strong grip. More images, as his mind slips and shifts. RAID. OhGod the was a /dragon/. And he MET him. DANGER-LABS. Oscorp involved? What kind of name is Hellfire Club anyway. This lady sure is acting nice. Xavier's, after break is finished. Oh man going to rescue /so/ many people from fires it's going to be /awesome/. Wonder if Ivan would get jealous over Harry. No! Ivan's not the jealous type. Peter has /FRIENDS/ now how did this even happen. Should finish redesign on webshooters. Running out of cartridges! Reading Peter's mind when he's not trying to actively structure his thoughts can be... a challenging experience. "Oh, well, generally people check in at the front desk anyway - so maybe Harry has, if Mr. Osborn hasn't." Emma continues to glean what she can from Peter's over-amped brain, but finds her mind's eye wide and horrified at the sheer number of things filtering in and through despite her new distance. She keeps smiling, leading him out of the library and back toward the main hall. "What did you two plan to do while you were here?" she asks gently, ask if asking a child about an amusement park. "Oh... uh, we -- we haven't spoken much, since--" << oscorp >> "--I changed schools," Peter explains. "We were, kinda friends? I guess -- he, he doesn't have a lot of friends--" << neither do I -- *did* I -- but man harry's got it worse >> "--we were just going to hang out I guess? We're on break, so..." << was thinking about telling him my big secret but I dunno I mean he is kind of a friend I guess but I don't think I should tell him I mean I am /so/ terrible at secret identities everyone I /know/ has figured out I am the spider I bet even /this/ lady has figured it out by now >> "So you figured that this was a good time to catch up?" Emma offers, pausing when they get to the front desk and letting go of Peter's hand. Of course, Emma has it figured out a lot about this rather energetic young man, but seems in no hurry to do anything about it - and refrains from speaking about it either. She is far too busy questioning the desk clerk about Harry Osborn and if any other teenagers have been through here, with or without checking in. While the clerk checks the computer, Emma turns back to Peter. "Do you think your friend has a cell phone? Perhaps it might be fastest to call him." "Yeah, I guess -- yeah," Peter admits, blushing heatedly. The front desk mentions no Harry signing in; apparently, he slipped right past them! Tsk, tsk. But at the mention of a cell phone -- Peter brightens. "Oh! Yeah, I could totally -- I mean I forgot, I'm sure I've got him on my --" The cell-phone is produced. Bright red. A little scuffed. Jail-breaked. His mind is instantly swelling across the *torrential downpour* of things he's got on it. Including TOP SECRET BAD GUY FILES. Yes, there's actually a folder called that. OSCORP logo flickers briefly over his mind. Tap, tap, tap. Ring. Ring. Oh man oh man Harry pick up PIIIIIIICK up what the heck Harry why haven't you-- "Harry? Hey Harry it's PETER hey hey hey -- no yeah I'm in the front lo -- oh. Oh, your dad... oh." << weird >> "No that's totally cool I mean I totally understand! We can hang out -- I've got the whole break --" << man dude didn't even call me to tell me well I guess he's busy but still come on dude come oooooon >> " -- yeah we can totally... uh, reschedule! Sure!" Emma cringes as she watches the conversation, not really needing her telepathy to see the ravages of teenage disappointment starting to leak in. She gives him a small smile as the conversation wraps up, patting him on the back lightly. She looks around the room afterward, considering what Hellfire has to offer and finding most everything not fitting the young man's age group. She waits quietly for him to get off the phone. Peter hangs up with a click; a sheepish smile is produced Emma's way: "Uh..." << dude she's figured it out you're a loser case closed this one wouldn't take scooby doo more than 3 minutes to break >> "He, uh, forgot to tell me -- he had a thing, with his dad --" << it is cool that he has a thing with his dad though I mean he /never/ has a thing with his dad so >> "--and, um, he's not coming." The grin gets a bit wider. "So -- I guess -- I should -- go?" << /smooooooth/ >> That last bit may or may not be sarcastic. "Oh, I'm sorry, Peter. It's rather rude of him to just sort of leave you hanging." Emma frowns and considers for a moment and then consults with the front desk. When she turns back around, she's got an envelope. "Unfortunately, the club isn't exactly the best place for people your age, as most of the members are adults - and a number of them are old enough to be your grandparents. How about this instead." She presents him with the envelope. "Here. Two tickets for both the Museum of Natural History and the New York Aquarium. You should get someone to go with you - maybe your guardian? And I'll give you some cab fare, okay?" She really does sound apologetic. Blink. Blink. Blinkity-blink. Peter... takes the envelope. And stares up at Emma. And for the first time since she's met him, Peter's inner psyche is actually 100 percent /silent/. Like he's not exactly sure how to respond to this. Did he... just score free tickets? And cab fare? For... what? For getting stood up by Harry? "Oh, man, you donnnn..." << DON'T SAY IT SHE MIGHT CHANGE HER MIND >> "...I mean that is /totally/ awesome of you man wow this is like an awesome club even though I guess I am a bit young to be a member? I mean I don't --" << BREATHE. >> "--thank you. That is awesome!" He even throws up a bright and cheery smile. He has absolutely /no/ intention of using the cab fare. That is what /webshooters/ are for. Actually he feels a little guilty about that but it's not /maintaining/ the webshooters are free, right? "You're welcome." Emma digs into a pocket on the cover of her tablet and pulls out two twenties and hands them over to the teenager. "I really am sorry that your friend was busy, but please - have a good time, okay? Maybe I'll see you here again, when you reschedule." "Okaythanksbye!" And... whoa. Peter is /fast/. The twenties are gone so fast you might figure it for a magic trick; in the next instant, he's /bolting/ out the door. Just a bit quicker than most people might imagine to be possible. Teenagers! /Teenagers./ Emma might be rolling her eyes a little, but definitely is smiling, genuinely.