ArchivedLogs:Recuperating With Friends
| Recuperating With Friends | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-03-20 Peter gets a visit from Ivan in the hospital! :D :D :D |
| Location
Hospital Room | |
Peter's hospital room is -- well, a hospital room! It's a bit more cheerful than your average hospital room, what with the balloons and flowers and assortment of GIFTS. It is also occupied by Peter -- hooked up to an IV, a fresh set of bandages on his shoulder, wearing a hospital gown and looking a /bit/ healthier than he did the other day. His glasses are now perched on his nose; he looks... thoughtful. Concerned. Reading on his telephone. Aunt May's just left to pick up Uncle Ben; Peter's all by himself. ALL ALONE. FOREVER ALONE. They made Ivan LEAVE. He'd been at the hospital before, but the staff did not seem to approve of his wanting to stay after he had just literally crawled out of a sewer. That might not have been too good for the actual /sick/ people around there. Still, he's back now! He swings 'round the doorway wearing jeans, a striped blue shirt and his (washed!) black wool coat hanging halfway off one shoulder, as though putting it on had not been as important as getting right the hell over here first chance he got. A backpack is the first thing that hits Peter, in the leg, before the rest of Ivan reaches to /latch/ himself around the other teenager's shoulders. Phone be damned, it may get squished. "Oh, hey Iv--ck!" This is now Ivan's name. 'Iv--ck'. It's all Peter manages to get out before the other teenager is /latching/ on to him. Peter tries -- rather weakly! -- to latch back. With one arm. Not the other one, because the other one is still hurting. It wasn't hurting /before/, but that was on account of too much of him hurting to notice. Now he's gotten a bit better and oh WOW that actually hurts. He grins sheepishly into the one-armed hug. "Ivan..." "Ivan I read your messages I'm /so/ sorry. I -- I lost my phone," he adds, blushing furiously. "But Aunt May got me another one and they even transferred all my messages and oh man I'm /so/ sorry and you guys all came down there /looking/ for me and that is so awesome." He's nattering again, which is a good sign! His voice is not as weak as it was in the sewers. Still softer and less perky than usual, but he's got some energy, now. Ivan's hug goes from SQUISH to-- absolute zero in a split second, possibly as a response to him remembering his friend is actually /hurt/. Speaking of which, when he pulls away again, Peter gets the usual look over that he should be used to by now. Shoulder, face, arm, face again, other arm. Face. Hm. He gives a thoughtful stare, eyebrows lowering for a moment, before promptly reaching for the backpack and zipping it open to pull out a book so he can offer it toward Peter. WRITTEN IN STONE: EVOLUTION, THE FOSSIL RECORD, AND OUR PLACE IN NATURE, the title reads. Ivan /smiles/, now. A bit tiredly, but still-- the first smile that's been n his face in days. Peter does not mind the hug, though! And so long as he doesn't /move/ his left arm, the pain doesn't go up. When Ivan breaks it off to present him with that book, though, Peter's eyes light up. "Oh man you bought me a--" Peter takes said book! With his good arm. And then suddenly, he looks a little concerned. "I didn't -- I didn't get you anything," he says, eyebrows *pounding* together. He looks back up to Ivan, looking... a bit /more/ perturbed. And not just because he didn't get Ivan any presents! "I -- I told them all I don't remember a thing," he explains to Ivan, "but I do remember -- things. And... Ivan, I /ran/," and now he sounds /so/ sad -- like he's about to cry. SUPERHEROES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO RUN. Ivan just listens, smile disappearing if only for lack of consciously keeping it there for no specific reason. He gives a shrug in response to Peter's lack of presents, which subsequently manages to send his coat falling off and to the floor. Whoop. He crouches down to collect it again, folding it neatly over one arm, before turning to find a chair to start dragging it closer to the bed. As he does so, he replies ponderously, "Bad things?" "I..." Peter looks back to the book Ivan brought him. Frowning at it. Poor book! It did nothing wrong. "I was doing a patrol, right? And I stopped to talk to some kids I know. And then, suddenly, /blood/ spider. A giant spider made out of blood. It just... I grabbed them, and got them safe, then went back in because I was pretty sure it was trying to eat people. And it got /me/. And there were -- it was gathering up a bunch of people, and dragging them down to its lair. And when we got there -- it was /injecting/ us with something. This -- like, needles?" NOW Peter looks back up to Ivan. Peter-Frown still present: "When it did it to me, everything went cray-cray. I mean, I just went nuts." Okay, now Ivan's staring again. He hasn't even managed to sit down in the chair he moves, just standing beside it as he attempts process the new information. But he seems to be having trouble, blinking sluggishly. Expression slowly going right back to concern. And deepening with every second. "N-nuts?" He repeats, uncertainly. "What /something/?" Peter is given another visual inspection, just in case Ivan missed something the first time around. Maybe he grew a whole set of EXTRA LIMBS though he supposes he'd have seen that when hecame in. STILL. "Oh -- oh, nuts, like, /whacked/ -- uh, CRAZY," Peter explains. Under Ivan's second perusal, Peter blushes -- but then he brings his good hand down toward the book. Flattening his palm out against it. "I don't know what it -- it was some sort of medical syringe. And afterwards, I couldn't -- think right. It was like, I was scared, right? But suddenly I was /so/ scared, and... I got strong. Really strong. Way stronger than I've ever been before. And I just tore myself free and /ran/. And --" His eyes drift back to the book. "Everything after that is kind of foggy. I blacked out in the sewers for a while? When I woke up, there was another monster trying to eat me. Also..." Peter's hand flattens to the book. And something /happens/. His fingertips seem to expand, like they had extra flesh; they become almost circular, flattening down to the cover of the book -- until they turn into flaps of suction-cup like skin. And then... he pulls his hand up -- and the book comes with it. /STICKING/. "...I can now do this." Even if Ivan would have been a talkative person to begin with, this would have been more than enough to shut him up. He gives up on sitting down all together, for now, moving back to stand by the bed to twist this way and that to try and see what the /trick/ is to this thing Peter is doing. But it isn't a trick- not like that, anyway. His smile comes back, gradually, while he watches full of intrigue. And then suddenly his expression resets once more, shooting a quick glance at Peter's face. "But-- you are okay?" He sounds a little apologetic, but another glance at the hand and he can't help but look utterly impressed while he reaches for the book to give it a gentle pull. "Huh? Oh, /yeah/ I am totally okay," Peter says, and as Ivan pulls at the book -- Peter pulls, testingly, back. Like he's trying to figure this out himself! It's not a 'leggo' pull; it's more of a playful tug, like a dog tugging a towel in its mouth. Tug, tug! The skin stretches just a /bit/ -- the book is cemented in his grasp. Peter concentrates a moment... and the skin flaps /recede/. The book becomes 'unstuck' with the faintest *SLPT* sound. "Just... you guys /came/ for me," Peter says, his voice softer, now. "Thank you." "...there's something else," he says, and he looks to the table next to him -- where a brown box sits. Filled with metal cartridges. A slip of paper on top of it. A verbal reassurance along the lines of 'you're welcome' is foregone, because Ivan is too busy staring at the book when it unsticks from Peter's hand. Just to make sure he hasn't been had. If anything, though, he doesn't seem to have minded- abandoning the chair to instead climb halfway onto the foot end of the bed instead. Much more comfortable. Then there is a box. Ivan peers at it obliviously, at first, before the recognition hits him like a brick. His eyes grow wide, and the next look he shoots Peter is a questioning one. What. How. When. "One of the visitors I got -- it was --" Peter's just looking at the box. Not at Ivan. Even when he sits on the end of that bed, Peter doesn't respond beyond scrunching his eyebrows together in an expression of concern. "Norman Osborn's been paying all the medical bills for the victims of the vampire. He's... he stopped by. Gave me this box. As a get-well gift." Only now does Peter dare look at Ivan. Confused. Worried. "He said he heard I'm into science stuff from his son -- Harry. We were... kinda friends, back in my old high-school." Then Peter reaches for the note -- straining a little, but he manages to snag the edge! And he paws it over to Ivan. "...this was in the bottom of the box." The note is penned in a green felt-tip marker. It says: CAN'T WAIT FOR THE REMATCH! <3 <3 <3 --GOBLIN Ivan holds the note with both hands. as if it were some precious thing, and studies it with utmost concentration, frowning down at it as if it contains many more words than it actually does. He takes a deep breath before handing both it and the book back to Peter, using his free hand to rub at the side of his own head. Tired. And now also confused. "'Goblin'?" His gaze floats over to the box again, and stays there while he mutters what he figures is a reasonable assumption. "They know you took them." "The green thing that attacked me in the sewers. That's what he called himself," Peter says. "Goblin. And -- I don't /know/. I don't understand. If they knew it was me, wouldn't they go to the police?" Peter takes the book and the note; the former finds a place on his lap; the latter gets a bit crumpled and loosely tossed back into the box. And then... SIGH. "...did you hear about Jackson? And -- oh, man, Ivan. Everything is just going nuts, all at once." And then he looks back at the box full of web fluid, and... "...I think I'm gonna be doing more than just, like, fighting fires soon." And then, rather meekly, he looks back at Ivan -- his voice tentative and tiny: "...and I think I might need help." Ivan shrinks down ever so slightly at the mention of Jackson and the troubles that comes to mind at the mention- he has been far from involved with any of it, but even /he/ has caught wind of some of it. When Peter speaks again, uncharacteristically quiet at that, Ivan seems to feel the need to compensate-- perking back up, at attention! Gotta keep things moving forward and away from sad-Peter. "What kind of help? Friend-help or school-staff-help or different-help help? "I don't know." Peter stares at his lap. SAD PETER. But he perks up when Ivan does; PERKINESS IS INFECTIOUS. "But, I... I don't know. I think -- I just keep thinking dangerous stuff is gonna happen. And I want to be ready. I lost my mask," Peter says, half-heartedly. "But I wanna make a new one. And, I just want to get ready. All of us to get ready. In case... bad things start happening." Then: "I want to talk to the girl who saved me, too. I recognized her -- Tatters. From the school." Yes, Peter is already plotting on going BACK DOWN INTO THE SEWER again. There are a few quick nods from Ivan, at Tatters' name. But he's reaching for his backpack again, dragging it into his own lap to pull outa notebook and a pen. Just like that, he's started to note things down-- a list! He absently sticks out the very tip of his tongue as he writes because that is clearly necessary.
| |
