cont.
her intuition had been correct-- he did have something to say. some things to ask. perhaps, even, some grovelling. when he moved passed her it was only to move around her and wind up opposite her at the kitchen island. it was just a few weeks ago when he had been sitting here, trying to enjoy his lunch, when clint tried to get some hits in. peter sat down, his shoulders slumped and his hands rubbing one another. if he looked uneasy, that was because he WAS. greatly so. but rather than dwell and dodge as he had been for so long, he wasn’t going to waste her time. ❝ i’m SICK of living like this, with all this... tension. can we TALK ? ❞










