[ He still doesn't remember much of what happened, why or how he ended up as badly off as he is, and if he's honest, he doesn't really want to know. But he hopes he was doing something badass, and that he didn't just stumble into some drug deal on accident. He figures it'll trickle back, as he recovers, but for now, he decides it's not important.
What is important is that he knows Charlie and Kasumi are running themselves ragged, and it pisses him off. He's not sure why, either -- why they're doing this. Why it makes him as angry as it does. He doesn't admit it aloud, though, because wow, what a dickish way to react to two people saving his life and giving a shit.
Peter needs his rest, yes, but he was also roused the instant he felt Kasumi tense against his side. He was a light sleeper -- perhaps not as much of one as Kasumi -- and even wounded and recuperating, the same still held true. And once Charlie shifts and speaks, Peter is mostly awake, shifting to disentangle himself from the two of them. It's slow going, thanks to the injury, but he manages to half prop himself up against the headboard, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ]
What's wrong? [ it's croaked out, his throat hoarse, words slurred from drowsiness; these days, he's asleep more often than not, still battling a fever on top of his recovery. ]
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What is important is that he knows Charlie and Kasumi are running themselves ragged, and it pisses him off. He's not sure why, either -- why they're doing this. Why it makes him as angry as it does. He doesn't admit it aloud, though, because wow, what a dickish way to react to two people saving his life and giving a shit.
Peter needs his rest, yes, but he was also roused the instant he felt Kasumi tense against his side. He was a light sleeper -- perhaps not as much of one as Kasumi -- and even wounded and recuperating, the same still held true. And once Charlie shifts and speaks, Peter is mostly awake, shifting to disentangle himself from the two of them. It's slow going, thanks to the injury, but he manages to half prop himself up against the headboard, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ]
What's wrong? [ it's croaked out, his throat hoarse, words slurred from drowsiness; these days, he's asleep more often than not, still battling a fever on top of his recovery. ]