❛ -Good, that’s … ❜ Good news. His expression was one of stony acceptance, fingers tightening on the counter edge. He had to close his eyes at the clarification of dog walking, half mortified that it was himself hearing this, half thankful it wasn’t anyone worse, ❛ … yeah. ❜ Behind him, the microwave dinged. He used to a rag to take the plate out, unwilling to burn himself out of something as silly as impatience and walked the pasta dish out to the dining table- to which he had to set down on a precarious edge, freeing his hands to move some of the clutter that had overtaken its surface. Some books got put on the other remaining chairs and papers had shuffled into a disorganized pile, and once there was space, Marc centered the plate just a hair better, utensils and all, and motioned towards it.
❛ Go on, eat. Did you want some water, too? ❜
“yeah well y’know- uh, it helps with rent i guess— bills.” he nodded his head, as if by adding the detail of bills somehow made him sound older, more mature, than he actually was. “who doesn’t love dogs? that’s just weird.” he doesn’t really see it as a job most days, and if he hadn’t needed the money, he probably wouldn’t take it. shuffling around the room, he moves closer and takes a seat. the smell hits peter just as he sits, and it’s only then does the hunger in his stomach finally reignite. it grumbles, filling the otherwise silence between them. “thank you, for the the food and the-“ he motions at his head, even though marc really hasn’t done much for that. “i appreciate it, a lot.” he lifts a fork, poking at the pasta before taking a curious bite. it’s food. it’s enough for him. “so are you like… a uh- mummy ? or…”