[ It’s late, and Peter is drained. It’s nearing the end of a long, long week, and— he’s been holding it together pretty well. He’s been maintaining, with a handful of slip-ups, here and there. But that’s to be expected, right? That’s to be expected, because he literally died, and surely he can be forgiven for a few hiccups.
It’s late. It's seriously late, in that weird hour where night meets morning, and Peter is exhausted. A week, and— he’s not sure if he’s just numb or if he’s getting over it. But—
It's late. And Peter's had a pretty strong drink, and he's been sitting at the crossroads of putting this off and wanting to do this ever since the kid spilled the beans. Apparently, insomnia and a bit of liquid courage have tipped the scales.
So, here comes a voice message to your inbox in the middle of the night, Tony.
voice; backdate to 8/30 or so!
It’s late. It's seriously late, in that weird hour where night meets morning, and Peter is exhausted. A week, and— he’s not sure if he’s just numb or if he’s getting over it. But—
It's late. And Peter's had a pretty strong drink, and he's been sitting at the crossroads of putting this off and wanting to do this ever since the kid spilled the beans. Apparently, insomnia and a bit of liquid courage have tipped the scales.
So, here comes a voice message to your inbox in the middle of the night, Tony.
In a low, ragged voice: ]
Why the hell didn’t you say anything?