[ He leads her out of the bar – at some point, he swears he feels a set of eyes on the two of them, and his paranoia tosses up road flares and warning signs. Peter glances around, sees the guy whose wrist Kasumi nearly broke earlier that night, staring daggers at him over his glass, but he dutifully ignores him. Best not to engage, and he doubts the man got a good look at him, anyway, in the poor lighting of the club.
The streets are busy; they always seem to be busy, on stations like this, with its day and night cycle providing only a vague suggestion of business hours. Ships were constantly docking, which meant ships were in constant need of fuel, of supplies, of booze to wet their shipmen’s lips and food to fill their stomachs. They weave their way through the crowds, and soon enough they find their way to the docks.
Peter’s ship is small, and in contrast with the darker colors Peter generally clothed himself with, brightly colored with blues and oranges – an old paint job he just never got around to redoing. He hesitates for less than a second before punches in the code for the bay door, admitting the two of them to the common area. It’s a pretty Spartan affair, despite the controlled mess of a bachelor life, with the only oddity being an antique tape deck built into one wall. ]
So. [ He draws out the word, the metal doors spinning shut behind them. His weight shifts from one leg to the other, hands stuffed in his pockets. ] Home sweet home.
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The streets are busy; they always seem to be busy, on stations like this, with its day and night cycle providing only a vague suggestion of business hours. Ships were constantly docking, which meant ships were in constant need of fuel, of supplies, of booze to wet their shipmen’s lips and food to fill their stomachs. They weave their way through the crowds, and soon enough they find their way to the docks.
Peter’s ship is small, and in contrast with the darker colors Peter generally clothed himself with, brightly colored with blues and oranges – an old paint job he just never got around to redoing. He hesitates for less than a second before punches in the code for the bay door, admitting the two of them to the common area. It’s a pretty Spartan affair, despite the controlled mess of a bachelor life, with the only oddity being an antique tape deck built into one wall. ]
So. [ He draws out the word, the metal doors spinning shut behind them. His weight shifts from one leg to the other, hands stuffed in his pockets. ] Home sweet home.