[ pull up some dirt she says. though it earns a huff of a laugh, peter's struck by the thought that despite wayward pines being in the middle of absolutely nowhere (or so it feels), camping, trees, all of — this isn't entirely him. he knows he'd have been camping as a child — remembers school trips, trips with friends exploring the quote-unquote wilderness of the almost-edges of the town, but it doesn't seem quite—
—right, frankly.
nevertheless, he takes a seat next to her on the ground, the 'you couldn't have picked somewhere comfier, like a bench?' getting lost somewhere between the thought and the utterance; instead, he goes with the slightly more pressing question of: ] You know you've got a perfectly good bed indoors, right? [ a breath of a pause and peter glances up at the sky. as always, he's amazed at the number of visible stars. he shoots her a glance, sidelong and with a sliver of humour. ] —And you're lucky you've got me, and not my aunt.
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—right, frankly.
nevertheless, he takes a seat next to her on the ground, the 'you couldn't have picked somewhere comfier, like a bench?' getting lost somewhere between the thought and the utterance; instead, he goes with the slightly more pressing question of: ] You know you've got a perfectly good bed indoors, right? [ a breath of a pause and peter glances up at the sky. as always, he's amazed at the number of visible stars. he shoots her a glance, sidelong and with a sliver of humour. ] —And you're lucky you've got me, and not my aunt.