Log in

No account? Create an account
Previous Entry Share
Three Ring Circus
Private story line with girl_ofsecrets.

It was kind of like falling into an old routine for him, dressing up and playing Golden Boy for the crowds that came to see him and his family. Sure, they all said it was for charity, to fight Multiple Sclerosis or whatever the cover was this time. Peter probably sounded like a man with a raging bitterness for charity work, but the heat was aimed more at his family. His mother, specifically. He loved her dearly, of course, but he no longer knew why she kept herself, her family in the limelight. After his father's death, he had been prepared for the Petrelli name to fade out, for the novelty of their name to finally lose steam. But it was as if Arthur's death had increased it tenfold, and now everyone was itching to peer into the glass box of his family's private life more than ever.

How frustrating.

So he stood near the edge of the room of the rented out banquet hall, champagne in hand, hair slicked back (God forbid his mother caught sight of those unruly bangs), suit tailored to fit him to the tee. He watched the crowd, the small throngs of people in their idle chatter, lightly amused. They all knew their parts quite well... not that he wasn't well aware he was committing a downright sin by lurking in the shadows.

Hors d'oeuvres made their rounds around the room, and he spared a glance at his gold wristwatch. His mother, surprisingly had opted for a buffet, and he knew the food was going to be brought out soon, as the appetizers were dwindling down. It would be quite the procession to watch, as this was a top-notch event and the caterers would not be able to disturb the flow of the party. So out they would come in a single line, buffet tray in hand, the other tucked behind them, and make their way around the buffet line to set their trays on the waiting flame before disappearing back into the kitchen. All in all, in should take less than a minute.

Peter wanted to get a good spot to watch (hey, it wasn't every day he got to see that kind of precision, EMTs flew by the seat of their pants), so he started working up towards the buffet line. Not surprisingly, no one else had an idea of what was to come, so he had no trouble getting close. Sticking one hand in his pocket, he took a sip of the champagne and smiled to himself as the first waiter appeared through the doors.

  • 1
He broke out into a relieved smile. "Thank you, Claire." He said her name easily, secretly liking the way it felt in his mouth and rolled off his tongue. Peter took a deep breath and moved to cross the street, naturally leading the way.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the door to the coffee shop he had spotted, a clear knockoff of Starbucks. Hopefully the drinks would be as good. Before getting into line, he saved a table for them, as the shop was unsurprisingly busy (this was New York City after all), and gave her a smile over his shoulder.

"What would you like to drink? And don't say nothing," he directed, immediately blocking the feeling she probably had to be polite. "It's my treat." He moved to get in line at the counter, suddenly realizing the fact the shop was busy could pose a problem for their discussion. They would likely draw attention.

Would she even believe him? Peter had to be prepared to demonstrate, he felt.

Oh dear, she liked the sound of her name rolling off of his tongue too, and probably a little too much. She had to remind herself to breath and act natural as she nodded, following after him.

When he opened the door for her, she gave a little smile and looked around before following him as he got a table and then headed for the line. At his comment, she laughed softly. "I wasn't going to say nothing." She smirked a little, an almost teasing hint there.

"I think a chai tea would be good for me." She decided after a minute of looking over the menu board. She focused her greenish eyes on him and gave a little smile, feeling her stomach flutter. "Should I go hold down our table?"

"Good," he said in playful stern-ness, before giving her another smile. "I wouldn't have let you get nothing, anyway," he confessed, nodding at her request of a chai tea.

"Good idea," he agreed. "My bag's on the chair, but that doesn't mean people can't move it."

He returned a few minutes later, two drinks in hand as he took a seat and tried to get comfortable. He took a quick sip of his iced coffee (a little weaker than Starbucks, disappointing), and cleared his throat before speaking.

"I haven't seen you at the hospital lately, are you still working there?" Maybe she had had an "incident" there too, but it was more small talk than anything.

She laughed, amused as she nodded her head. "I could tell, so I thought I should listen." She lifted her hands in a little in a show of surrender before moving over to the table that he had picked out for them.

Sitting down, she checked her phone for messages and saw one from her mom and a text from a friend who wanted to know if she wanted to head out to a party but she ignored it. She didn't feel like going to a party and honestly, she kind of liked where she was.

As he joined her, she took the drink from him and had a little sip before looking up as he asked her about the hospital. "Yes, they just gave me fewer hours while I did my finals." She explained. "I'm done now though." So perhaps he would see her more.

((I'm so sorry I've failed at posting lately.. getting ready to go on vacation takes a lot of time! >< ))

Ahhh, finals. Well that explained her absence rather well. In fact, he felt a bit guilty for assuming that she was avoiding him. "I bet you're happy that's over, huh?" he smiled. Nope, he didn't miss finals in the least, especially pre-med finals.

"Listen," he began after a pause, ending the small talk quickly. "Something happened to me tonight, and I think you're the only one that could understand what happened to me... but." He took a deep breath; Peter just had to throw it out there. She had to get her denial out of the way. "I healed."

"God, yes." She admitted with an easy laugh that bubbled out of her as she nodded her head. There was no denying it, she was glad that finals were over and she had a few months before she would throw herself back into the school life. Once that happened, it was hard to focus on things in the outside world but she figured it was a good shield for her secret.

Then he told her something happened and she looked worried, her gaze narrowing a little bit. "What do you mean?" She asked softly, curious as to what it could be that he would think she would understand. It made sense once he told her and she felt her stomach drop just a bit but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Still, she looked wary. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled at her honest happiness about being done with school; it reminded him just how young she was. She may have been beyond her years, but when it came down to it, she was still a young woman enjoying the small things in life.

"I mean," he sighed heavily, taking a long drag from his cold coffee. "I healed. I was peeling potatoes for dinner earlier, and I sliced my palm. I know I did," he interjected quickly before she could disagree, "Because there was blood... but when I rinsed my hand, there wasn't a cut at all."

Peter chewed his lip and watched her reaction.

And it was easier to enjoy the small things in life when you weren't racing from class to class, working on assignments and spending all your time trying to keep good grades. So yes, she was definitely looking forward to the summer even if she would be working more hours.

Not that it was on her mind at the moment.

As she listened to him, a bit of blood drained from her features as she took a quick look around to see where everyone else was and then she turned her attention back to him. "So....you're like me?" There was her admission, the one that he had been looking for.

Well, that point blank admission was the last thing he had been expecting. As a result he gave a wry laugh, shaking his head. "No. Well, I don't know. Maybe." Peter sighed. "Is healing all you do?" he questioned. Best to start with her diagnosis, rather than his own complicated one.

((Eep, sorry that's so short.))

((No worries))

Even with his own admission that he might be like her, she was still a bit nervous about revealing her freak show status. "Yes." It was a bit hard for her to say as she nibbled her bottom lip a bit and leaned forward against the table, keeping her voice soft. "Can you do more?"

He had grown somber in the moments before she answered him. All the same, he was infinitely glad she had believed him, and well, owned up to her gift so easily. He hadn't wanted to have to demonstrate.

"Then I'm not like you," he told her. "I can do other things." He spoke softly now, noticing that she had leaned in. "But I think... I think I absorb them from other people," he explained. "Why is why I can heal. I'd never done it before I met you."

Claire could understand not wanting to demonstrate the ability. She was also excited at the idea that there was someone else like her because she was beginning to lose hope. Of course she was more curious about the man sitting across from her now,

"You can do other things?" She looked confused and then curious, nodding a little. "So what else can you do then?"

  • 1