Nancy

Connor considers her questions for a few moments, as though his favourite colour and hobbies would have world-shattering effects. And a few months ago, a few weeks even, they would’ve been. “It’s… complicated. It’s very, very beautiful, but painful at the same time. The hostage situation I told you about… I wasn’t a deviant at the time, but the way I fell… It’s almost painful to be up high. Balconies especially. Say what you will about Cyberlife, they certainly know how to code fear.” He simulates a swallowing motion (he doesn’t actually have saliva or much of a throat) and continues, “But my favourite colour is thirium blue, and I’m quite good at flipping coins. You can say it’s strange. I know it is.”

He listens thoughtfully to her explanation of cloning (he does have some idea, and pulls up a search into cloning and the various ethical dilemmas around it while she talks — it’s certainly strange how afraid humans are of losing their humanness. In his mind, it was something innate, something that just was, that couldn’t be taken away or added to. It wasn’t as though he could stop being an android, and it doesn’t bother him very much that there are almost certainly others out there with his face. They’re not the same after all.). “I’m wondering if people will advocate for separate human and android laws. I hope not. We want equality, and that means following the same laws. Although, I suppose there are some that don’t exactly apply.”

He’s about to answer when the doctor enters, and, formulating a plan, he makes himself rigid, robotic — a good little soldier. “Of course, Doctor. But you should be aware that, since we have significant reason to believe that the individual that attempted to kill Detective Duke is tied to the case and that it is possible someone else will make such an attempt, I have been assigned to guard her. I can give you the orders from my partner, Lieutenant Anderson, if you so wish. Although he isn’t… a fan of doctors.” And, of course, he knows that Hank will back him up, no matter what. That’s always helpful.

"Very beautiful, and very painful." She nods. It's an adequate description. Succinct, but accurate, and not nearly as flowery or as long-winded as the way some poets and writers have described life. She studies him as he talks about his fear of heights, and it’s so very.... human, almost unnecessarily so. “I bet you could program that fear out,” she muses softly, “fear is a very human-y quirk. You guys don’t really need that, do you?” 

“Why those things?” she asks, leaning forward. “What do you like about Thirium blue? Why do you flip coins?” She blinks, realizing again that perhaps she was doing too much. But to her, the things that made people human-- erm, alive, were in the little details. The little preferences. She just wanted to know what Connor’s little preferences were. What set him apart from the other RK800 models.

Nancy shugs at his question of equal rights. “I honestly don’t know how this will all shake out. A group that looks identical to us asking for basic human rights isn’t exactly a new story.” She grimaces, “though, that didn’t exactly go well for them either....”

She can’t help the smile the curls at the corner of her lips as she watches Connor talk to the Doctor. It was such an obvious change in disposition, that it made it hard not to giggle-- at least a little bit. 

“It’s true, we were just discussing the interrogation of the person who shot me,” Nancy pipes up, backing Connor’s statement. 

“I perfectly understand that there is an ongoing investigation, however as Miss Duke’s Doctor, it is my primary goal to make sure she heals as quickly as possible.” he says pointedly, folding his arms in an austere manner. “This door is the only point of entry in or out of the room, which means that you should be able to do your job of guarding her just fine from outside in the hallway. I’ll have one of the nurses bring you a chair.” 

Connor waves a hand at her (obviously a joke) suggestion of bribery, shaking his head. “Detective, if I got caught offering bribes, not only would I, personally, get in trouble, but it would be awful for androids as a whole.”

He nods at her questions. “Yes. I… I hadn’t meant to show you that photo. Sumo isn’t in it, so…” What can he say? What can he really say? He’s never admitted this to anyone. “Lieutenant Anderson… Hank… He’s like a father to me. He helped me deviate, showed me that there’s more to life than missions. He…” Connor pauses. “He taught me how to care about people.”

He’s silent for a few moments before nodding. “… It wasn’t… not insensitive. Thinking of robots… machines… ones without the capacity for sentience… I don’t know. It’s uncomfortable. I’m not exactly sure how to describe it. Is it an experience that humans can even have? I’m not sure.” He rubs his forehead, a little embarrassed about all this philosophy. “But that might be a little too deep for what we’re supposed to be working on.”

He straightens up, pushing all those memories back, putting them into neat little boxes to collect dust in his circuits. Everything is in boxes, in the garden, as though its in the midst of being packed away. As though the owners are moving. He supposes they’ve already moved out. She isn’t there anymore. And he’s not going to talk to Nancy about her. He won’t tell anyone that. “Yes. Just a confirmation of the orders I sent out. And… some information about the interrogation. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nancy gives a theatrical sigh and shakes her head. "That's a pity for you and me then, isn't it?" She says, throwing in a cheeky wink.

Nancy nods along as she listens. It’s honestly all quite fascinating-- the different things that caused androids to deviate, the little and big things that made up life and the universal appreciation all living things seemed to have for them. It was oddly unifying. And in a way, it was rather obvious that of course androids would deviate and want free will, they had created them to be as similar to humans as possible. “So what do you make of life so far?” She asks, genuinely interested in what he’d have to say. “Do you have, like, a favorite color? Any hobbies?”

“It... definitely brings up an interesting ethical question,” she muses, “I don’t think there is a perfect human equivalent. The only thing coming to mind is cloning. Back in the 90′s there were these scientists who were able to fully clone a goat from a single cell, and it was this huge scientific advancement at the time. But it brought up ethical problems as well. People were worried that it’d blur the line of human identity-- where do we draw the line in scientific advancements and so on. It was ultimately outlawed by the UN-- though it seems we’ve stumbled into the same philosophical dilemma anyways, just with androids instead of clones.” She frowns, trying her best to think through her words before she spoke. “But now androids have deviated, you have to grasp your own perception of self and relation to humans, but also machines-- which is an interesting dichotomy. Humans only have animals to relate to, which is why there are lots of laws in place to protect animals and prevent animal cruelty.” She shakes her head, shrugging off the philosophical inquiries like one shrugging off a heavy coat. “I don’t know,” she says, deflecting in preparation-- just in case she’s misstepped again. Nancy didn’t often partake in ethical discussions, and felt a little silly talking and sharing her perspective. It was dumb. Whatever she had to say was dumb-- people shouldn’t listen to her. 

The update on the interrogation piques her interest. “Oh-- what’d they have to say?”

It’s then that her doctor walks in, still toucan-faced, but now with a steely glint in his eye. “Miss Duke,” he begins sternly, “why have I just seen security footage of you walking about the hospital lobby one day after massive invasive surgery?”

“Oh that doesn’t sound like me,” Nancy says flippantly, taking a dainty sip of her water, “you must have me confused with another redhead-- I get it though. We all look rather similar.” She gives her cutest smile, but the doctor remains unimpressed. 

“Oh, I see. The way you were talking about it, I thought it was based solely on looks, and you are, without a doubt, quite attractive.” Connor smiles, raising an eyebrow, purposefully, trying to tease her. “Well, for a human, of course.” He takes a seat again, only a little distracted when some information from the station rushes into his HUD. Just a few hard blinks when it arrives. “I’m not sure you are crazy.”

His smile can only widen when she asks about Sumo, and he takes out his phone — basically useless when his own brain is a computer, but it’s useful for when he needs to show people pictures (especially of Sumo). There’s one of himself and Sumo, one of himself and Hank and Sumo, one of Sumo alone, and then one of just him and Hank. Ah. He’s swiped too far.

He hopes she doesn’t notice the blue tinge across his cheeks and nose as she talks about her desk droid. It’s a little difficult not to feel as though she’s comparing him and it, but… he trusts that she isn’t. Still, it’s not extremely comfortable. “You’re lucky those sorts of droids can’t deviate, or you’d have a miniature uprising on your hands.” He shakes his head goodnaturedly at her question, giving her an ‘Oh, you” sort of look. “Don’t put so little faith in my human coworkers, Detective Duke. We may be stronger, smarter, and faster, but you have your moments of brilliance. Occasionally.”

And then, of course, she wants to know about the hostage situation. His smile vanishes, and he can feel the tendrils of fear surging up, grasping his body, threatening to pull him down, make him fall. “There was a deviant — a household android — who’d taken a child hostage. Everything was going fine, but… something happened. He had a gun, he was standing on the edge of the balcony… I saved the girl, but I had to tackle him, to make sure-” He cuts himself off, hands tightly balled into fists in his lap. He couldn’t make eye contact if he tried. “And that’s it.”

Nancy squints at him, raising one eyebrow. “I see what you’re doing here,” she says, eyeing him and his compliment with equal suspicion, “I’ll have you know I refuse to be won over by flattery. I only take bribes.”

Sumo ended up being a very big, very handsome boy. “Oh my gosh!” She cooes, gushing over the pictures of of a large, fluffy dog between Connor, and an older man with grey hair, and a scruffy looking face. “I’m guessing Mr. Tall Dark and Grumpy here is your partner? Anderson?” She asks, looking at the last picture of just him and Hank. “You two really are quite close, huh?”

Surprisingly, the color on Connor’s cheeks does not go unnoticed. Forethought has never been a quality she possessed, but hindsight told her easily enough that maaaaaybe talking about her pet robot to a recently liberated android wasn’t the smartest move. 

She blurts out: “--Sorry, was that insensitive? Please tell me if that was insensitive.” Her eyes are wide with genuine ernest. “I’ve never been good at thinking before speaking. Growing up, my dad always used to tell me that I had a broken filter, because I always would blurt out whatever is on my mind-- even if it’s a little rude. So just-- y’know, let me know.” She says, waving her hands around in a ‘I’m sorry I’m dumb, please don’t hate me for it!’ kind of way.

She wants to reach out and maybe touch him when she sees his physical reaction to retelling the memory. But comforting had never really been Nancy’s thing, whether giving, or receiving. So instead she folded her arms across her chest, and listens quietly. She hadn’t meant to broach such a sensitive topic. She wonders on how he must look back on his days when he used to hunt deviant androids. “Oh...” she isn’t sure what to say. 

Connor laughs, a quick sound of surprise. “Well, I’ll ask you to tell Lieutenant Anderson that yourself. I think if I told him that I’m, in actuality, very pretty, I think he’d just believe I’m incredibly narcissistic.” He tilts his head, curious about what she’s saying. “Well, I suppose you know about this… Halo effect from experience, Detective Duke? If that’s not too unprofessional for me to say, of course.”

He leans forward and turns his head from side to side so she can get a proper look. “A golden retriever, hmm? I suppose that fits. I like dogs. I take care of Lieutenant Anderson’s dog often. His name’s Sumo, although he’s a Saint Bernard.”

“Perhaps I’ve been studying too many movies. It’s certainly a possibility.” He’s actually starting to really care for her, not that he’d admit it. No, he’d just say that she was an important part of the case, that it was simply more difficult to complete it without her. Although, that would be cruel. Humans didn’t respond to that kind of language very well.

“They should be doing that soon. You know, I’m typically their best interrogator. I was built to be good at communication. I can analyse stress levels in order to defuse or intensify a situation, if I need answers or if I’m negotiating in a hostage situation.” He blinks, a little surprised he’s admitting all this. What is it about this that’s loosening his lips? “My first memory is of a hostage situation.”

Nancy scoffs, shaking her head as she took a sip of her water. "That’s very sweet of you to say, but I am too self-aware to know that I don't really benefit from the Halo Effect. My personality is a bit too abrasive... turns most people away.” She gives a simple shrug, making it unclear whether she had any deeper thoughts on the matter or not. “Hot but crazy is still crazy.”

The corner of her eyes crinkle as she sits back, enjoying Connor’s company and listening talk about his partner’s dog. “You seem like a dog person,” she says, “do you have any pictures of Sumo? I love big dogs.”

“I’ve got this little desk droid back home--” she offers, getting more and more comfortable talking with Connor now-- maybe it helped that they weren’t talking about homicides or cannibals now, but still. “They’re technically kids toys, no bigger than maybe the palm of me hand,” she holds her hands up, showing Connor just how small they are, “and just glorified cubes with little LED lights and wheels. All they’re supposed to do is keep you company. They use one of the earlier AI iterations, the idea being the longer you keeps them turned on, and the more you interact with them, the more of a personality they develop, until they’re their own unique little being. But mine’s got quite the attitude now, my desk at the precinct actually belongs to him, I just borrow it to get work done. His name is Excel.”

“So you’re telling me I’m getting only the second best interrogator to question the person who tried to murder me the other day?” She asks quizzically, accented with a little quirk of her eyebrow. It’s all in jest though, as evident by the gleam in her eyes.  

“It looks like most Seattle’s, to me.”

Jameson fixed the bear mask over his face, taking in a deep breath or two, to make sure he could. The breathing was easy, and it warmed his nose.

With her questions, Nancy seemed to be venturing out of her usual range of emotions: strong, punchy, manic, and something about the 90′s top forty list. He tried to encourage it by answering as best he could. “You ever heard of Toby Stephens? Maggie Smith’s son?” Jameson ventured, then quickly waved the thought away. “Probably not. If your universe has a Jim Duke, it probably skipped Toby Stephens.”

“We had a little Bond moment.” 

Jameson recreated the conversation, mimicking Mr. Duke’s gruff voice.

“He said, Can I borrow a match?”

“Then I said, I use a lighter. He said, Better still. I said, Until they go wrong.” Jameson scratched his head, unsure of the finer details of the conversation. He had experienced many versions of it. He could only cross his fingers that he was telling the right story. “He seemed pretty happy about that, until he followed up. He asked me a question that sounded like code, something about weeds in the garden, and I had no clue what to say.”

“I told him about the day you went missing, about what you were wearing, about Dairy Queen…”

“That’s probably why that cop car is tailing us.”

Jameson waved pleasantly again.

“But I’d rather be in their custody than your dad’s.”

He almost forgot the question of her mother. It slipped his mind, having seen so many realities without her. “I don’t remember if your mom was there,” he said, honestly, “in most of the universes, I only saw an old black and white picture of her, on the wall.”

“I talked to her at least once or twice, though,” he said. He would have to flip a coin to guess whether his words were helpful or hurtful. “She was a nice lady. She bought me something called a Cronut. I’m still not entirely sure what it is.”

“If you asked, I’m sure she’d buy you one too.”

Nancy watched him talk, her expression blank. “I feel like now is a bad time to tell you I’ve never seen any James Bond movies,” she said, scratching her head. Most of what he said was lost on her, but she appreciated the humor, at the very least. 

“Uhm! Anyways,” she clapped her hands, trying to take everything in and not freak out, “so it sounds like my dad might had thought that you were the one who abducted me.... that’ll take some explaining so that you don’t get skewered by four marines...”

She knew what picture Jameson was talking about. It was the only picture that dad had allowed to keep up in their house. Instead of taking regular engagement photos, Jim and Yellow Duke had gone to one of those county fairs where you can find booths that let you dress up in old western clothes and take old-timey style photos. The only picture Nancy every really saw of her mother after she died, was the one of her in a corset with her hair piled high atop her head, her foot planted on a chair, and showing off her stockings and garters. 

She really liked that picture. 

“You got to talk to her?” Nancy’s head whipped around, her eyes widening. She supposed there had to be realities where her mother was never shot-- Nancy wondered if Jamey would take her to one of those dimensions instead. But then.... she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be abandoning her original family. They would never know what happened to her. 

But on the other hand there are also probably other dimensions where that happens anyways... Ugh, this multiple reality thing was really starting to mess with her head. How was she supposed to conceptualize anything anymore?

She gave a small laugh at his cronut comment. “Yeah, she sounded pretty friendly in all the stories I’ve heard about-- bit eccentric, though....”

“Well, I guess there’s nothing left but to go home.” The words sounded funny leaving her mouth, even though she had never really given up on the idea of going home, a small part of her thought it would just never happen. “Time to face the music and dance.”

“Your scent,” the Loboan casually hummed after telling the bartender what she wanted and then watched him go fix it. A Loboan’s sense of smell was like that of a typical canine, picking up things a human couldn’t. She then turned her head, her hand rested on the biomask. “That, and your body language,” she mused as long, black claw like nails tapped on the metal face of the mask as she examined her target before her. Oh yea, she fit the description just as the puck enlisted.

“I’m here for a little bit of both,” she finally answered her question as to why she was there at the bar, giving a nod to the bartender, thanking him quietly for the drink before lifting the class up to her lips. “My job is always a pleasure for people like me,” she chuckled, taking a sip of the liquor and then setting the glass back down with a quiet growl from the burn doing down her throat.

“Looking for someone,” she began as she pulled out the puck to allow the hologram of Nancy to appear for her to see. “Seen someone who looks like her?” she gave her a fanged grin.

This wasn’t Nancy’s first rodeo with a bounty hunter-- though maybe the Loboan is a first. Nancy leans over, examining the holopuck. "Nope!" She says, popping the p on 'nope'. “But I get the confusion, all redheads look the same, right?” She jokes.

Downing the last of her whiskey, she hops out of her seat, turning to look her the bounty hunter. “But if you want, I can help you find her outside,” she suggests, jerking her head in the direction of the door “I’ve been kicked out of enough bars, I can’t really afford to lose this one too.”

Outside, Nancy does a quick scan of the area, but there was nobody around. Perfect. Her mind had already been racing ahead, playing out all the likely scenarios as she whirls around, pulling out her blaster from it’s holster and aiming it at the Loboan.

“I suppose that’s the difference between humans and androids — as we are your… creations, and recent creations at that, we don’t really…experience pleasure in the same way. We don’t have dopamine, for example. Besides, it took humans a very long time to make food for pleasure, as far as I can tell. I’ve done a little research into this.” He raises an eyebrow on the word attractive. The ‘lives forever’ comment isn’t entirely accurate either, but how could she know that? “Actually, the likelihood of me living forever is very unlikely. I was built to be a prototype, so… chances are I’ll break down about the same time Hank does. But I’m glad you think I’m attractive. The usual comment is ‘goofy looking’.” At the mention of wings and flying, whatever makes him afraid of heights makes his hand clench tightly around the hospital sheets, though with a simulated breath, he forces himself to relax, smoothing it out.

Damn it. That, she definitely noticed. He can only hope the case is absorbing most, if not all, of her attention. In any case, he’s collating a few images and definitions and articles that help him understand all the meaning behind the human hearts. Thirium pumps don’t really convey the same emotion, the same spirituality. They’re metal and tubing made for a simple task. Perhaps human hearts are essentially the same thing, just with flesh, but, he notes, they’ve always been good at attaching meaning to things. Maybe that was why he couldn’t kill Chloe.

“I’ve added those specifications to my orders.” He tilts his head at her huff, confused. He had just been getting up to get her a glass of water. “I’m not leaving, you know. I already sent our notes to the station. Another benefit of being connected to the internet, I suppose.”

“I’m… worried that the killer might try to find you. To finish what Fisher started.”

"Whoever called you goofy looking needs to get their eyes checked," Nancy snorts, "riddle me this: why would CyberLife spend thousands of dollars to make a goofy looking android.” She gives a shrug, “I mean, pretty privilege is real-- it’s called the ‘Halo Effect’, you can look it up. Humans naturally attribute commercially attractive people as being kinder, smarter, nicer-- it wouldn’t be a logical move to make a ‘goofy-looking android.”  

She turns then, appraising his features with a critical eye. “They chose well-- you have a very, hm, what would be a good word.... approachable face.” She nods, seemings satisfied with her word choice, “you have ‘golden retriever’ vibes-- which are the best vibes to give off.” 

It’s only after saying all this, that Nancy realizes that this could be considered offensive-- but she doesn’t entirely know how to fix it if she accidentally hurt Connor’s feelings. “I like your face regardless of whether some goon back at CyberLife chose it though.” She tacks on quickly.

Her face heats up at his address, embarrassed that she had allowed her emotions to be displayed to openly-- or perhaps, she wasn’t giving his powers of perception the acknowledgement they deserved.

“Oh,” she says, watching him cross the room to pour a glass of water, “I kind of thought you were-- seeing as you told me to focus on resting up.” She doesn’t really know what to make of his concern for her. The thought about someone stopping my her room to finish her off had certainly crossed her mind. Hell, she couldn’t even make it 24-hours in Detroit without someone coming after her. But the thought didn’t bring about fear-- she was too traumatized to feel any fear about the idea of dying anymore... but she was, perhaps, a bit morbidly curious to see who would finally achieve at doing her in-- seeing as she was turning into a bit of an elusive catch. 

A stickler? No, Connor wouldn’t call himself that, after all he’s broken more than a few rules in his time including his own programming. The sneaking out and the probable stealing didn’t bother him, and he’s glad at least that she had the wherewithal not to take the IV drip out of her arm, he just… well, he’d worked hard to keep her alive, to have her up and walking about less than two days after… it’s a minor annoyance.

But he turns his attention to her thoughts and questions about food. “I suppose I can enjoy it vicariously. I’ve watched Hank eat burgers, and because he’s happy, I’m happy.” Thirium, though… It isn’t a food. It’s, effectively, blood. He doesn’t consume it regularly, only when he’s been badly injured and needs his supply replenished. Does it have a taste? Not in the way he’s observed from human descriptions. He knows the chemical makeup and what store it was purchased from the moment it touches his tongue. “It’s not really meant to be enjoyed. It’s more like… if you had blood transfusions by having a glass of O negative. It’s part of my recovery process, not for enjoyment.”

Connor watches her write, copying the notes into his mind. “Yes, it seems despite being a fan of Fisher, our killer doesn’t have the appetite for chewing bones that he did. There’s also the potential that they could be a bus driver on the school route.” He pulls up a map detailing the victims’ residences overlaid on a route map of the buses in the area. One comes close enough to all of them that it’s completely possible. And, Connor knows, investigating every possibility is of the utmost importance. “That also explains the varying ages and the mixed genders. They wouldn’t get to choose, necessarily, their victims. Fisher had closer contact, which would be why his victims were from a specific subset.”

It feels strange to him too, knowing that this was what she went through. It must be painful for her to be so deeply invested in this. Revisiting memories… horrible ones… It’s enough to make him shiver, and he hopes she’s too invested in the case to notice. It’s silly. He should be better than this. His mind should be sharp and focused, not thinking about his own problems.

“I’ll send some orders out. And you can focus on getting better.”

“Well, I mean, you can argue that food is just a necessity-- it doesn’t have to be for enjoyment, but humans prefer to make the things we have to do enjoyable,” she gives an idle shrug. Nancy pictures Connor drinking a glass of blood and wrinkles her nose, “you guys are like vampire robots-- or, at the very least, you are. Superhuman strength, lives forever, attractive, drinks blood--” Nancy says, ticking each attribute off on her fingers, “really the only thing you’re missing is the ability to turn into a bat. So personally, I would reach out to CyberLife and see if you can get bat wings installed-- because that would be super cool.”

Nancy nods emphatically at Connor’s hypothesis, "yes-- a bus driver would fit all the requirements. They'd have access to all their victims without drawing any suspicion. That was my second thought..."

Nancy chews on her bottom lip, her mind still stuck on the hearts. It was such a symbolically loaded gesture that it had to mean something. But.... what? There was no obvious correlation between all the victims, like Connor said. Fisher always said he consumed his victims to absorb their souls-- but to be honest it was a thinly-veiled ruse to cover his cannibalistic pedofile fetish, than any kind of religious, or ritualistic fantasy. 

A heart though... a heart could definitely be a symbol for consuming a victim’s soul. 

“Whoever they are, they’ve been in this position for a while-- know the rout, is probably trusted by the locals if they’re able to take these kids so easily,” Nancy muses, trying to draw up the kind of person who’d be able to get away with something like this without drawing suspicion. “So we can rule out anyone who hasn’t been working there for at least a few years...” 

Nancy huffs as Connor gets up to leave, pouting a little. It’s not like she knew anyone else in the city-- and sitting in a hospital room alone all day was so boring! But she knew she couldn’t ask him to stay and keep her company; he had work to do. And besides, her pride wouldn’t let her ask a question like that anyways. 

P E T E R·:

                              THE PLASTIC I.D. CARD IN HIS HAND displayed the picture of Nancy Duke. She was very pretty! Aside from that he only knew that she was new, they didn’t tell her where she transferred from only that she transferred. That information would have been nice but Peter figured it would make a good conversation starter? The boy spotter her in the front of the school and he waved but she had kicked a can at a passerby. His brows pulled together when she was yelled out but she apologized and the situation was resolved, he relaxed. What was he going to do anyway? Spider-Man couldn’t exactly swoop in before class. Everyone would freak out!

❝ Nancy? Hey, I’m Peter━ ❞

His lips pressed tightly together when her reaction to his hand on her shoulder wasn’t friendly. Immediately he could tell by the way she shifted her weight and the way she turned, not to greet him but rather tense and firm. It would have been easy for him to step to the side, plant his feet so she couldn’t move him or even land on his feet when she did. All those options were out of the question. There were too many people around, too many people would notice something like that.

With a slow breath, Peter closed his eyes and allowed himself to get completely floored.

The boy winced and ━ YUP! That was the 800 page chemistry book in his spine.

Laughter filled his ears and he even heard the shutter of a few cameras and Peter sighed wondering who even had the shutter volume on on their phone anyway?

From his place on the floor he handed Nancy her I.D., ❝ I’m Peter … Parker … I’m your … I’m your School Buddy ❞

The public ridicule is nearly instantaneous. The laughter, the camera shutters, the way the people (her school peers she supposes, now) crowded around the two in a little semi-circle. It was like something out of a teen movie. 

She feel the shame burn up her neck, coloring her face to match her hair. 

“Oh my god,” she gasps, staring in shock at the boy on the ground. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” She’s quick to hoist him up, brushing dirt of his jacket. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me. I am so sorry.” Tears burn at the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them away. No need to further the embarrassment by crying in front of a bunch of people.

She takes the school I.D card from Peter, thumbing the rounded edges, unable to make eye contact with her school buddy. How was she supposed to befriend him now? She just threw him on the ground!

“Uh-- hi,” she breathes out, “I’m.... hugely embarrassed.” She gives an awkward laugh, trying to break some of the tension. “I swear I don’t usually go around throwing people on the ground,” she jokes. “You can throw me on the ground, if you feel that would make it fair.” Then, realizing what that sounds like, she winced. “I mean-- not like--- ugh,” she backpedals, before resigning and burying her face in her hands. 

Put your favorite playlist or music player on shuffle and list the first 10 songs then tag up to ten people! No skipping! (or maybe some skipping. I’m not your dad, do what feels right)

Baby, I Love Your Way - Big Mountain

Unstoppable - Lianne La Havas

Guilty - George Shearing

Send Me On My Way - Rusted Roots

Cigarette Ahegao - Penelope Scott

San Francisco - The Mowgli’s

The Joker - Steve Miller Band

Should I Stay or Should I Go - The Clash

Ghost - Lianne La Havas

Obsessions - Marina and the diamonds

Bonus: Young, Wild & Free - Snoop Dogg

Now for Nancy, because she has her own playlist: Nancy’s Ass Kicking Playlist

Cold Cold Man - Saint Motel

Waking Up In Vegas - Katy Perry

Like a Girl - Lizzo

Baba O’Riley - The Who

People Are Strange - The Doors

Jessie’s Girl - Rick Springfield

Supersonic - J.J. Fad

(You’re The Devil) In Disguise - Elvis Presley

Like Itself - Glass Animals

Waterfall - TLC

Bonus: Babooshka - Kate Bush

tagged by: @daddypooltm