mostlyharmIess

"scientology? more like not-based-on-science-tology."

"doesn't rain candy, -1 brownie point from earth."

"remember: always carry peanuts on you when hitchhiking. the salt and protein will save your ass when getting onto a ship. if you don't have peanuts or something similar, you'll almost always die from a lack of nutrients."

"the amount of horrible music that you guys came out with since i was gone is frightening."

  Peter, jolting forward out of his seat, flickered to the train window across the way, and gripping onto the overhead handles, the speedster ducked to peer out at the glistening water that seemed to zoom by beneath the bridge they were passing over. It was a warm, spring afternoon, and the sun reflected brightly against the sleek, modern vehicle, and the towering cityscape standing just beyond the bay out in front of him. It was kind of a nice sight, honestly, but nothing he hadn't seen before, and it mattered so little to him that the quiet thump-thump, thump-thump of the track was already thoroughly drowned out by the easy music in the mutant's headphones. Instead, Peter turned to glance, casually, toward the direction of his destination, trying to gauge by distance, offhandedly, how much longer until his stop, and chewing noisily on a piece of gum as he did so, blowing and popping a big pink bubble. Ordinarily, Peter loathed public transport, and this wasn't really any different, considering he was sure he could've gotten where he was going ages ago if he'd just run there, himself. But there was the whole issue of his broken leg which had only recently mended enough that he could remove his cast, and Charles himself had been insisting the speedster didn't over-do it too quickly. Okay, whatever you say, Charlie; you're not my fuckin' dad. But whatever, right? It was kind of a surreal change of pace, and to be honest, Peter himself was plenty glad to go easy on after the nightmare that was being unable to use his mutation at all.

  Sighing to himself, sharply, Peter pushed away from the window and -- fwip~! -- dashed back down the narrow little isle in a gust of wind that sent several ladies' hair flying, and garnered a couple of very confused glances from fellow passengers. One little kid climbed up on the back of his seat to gaze, wide-eyed, after the speedster. Heh. Dumb~ But Peter just made his way to the back of the car, and in the same quick motion, exited the little door that lead into the next. These ultra-modern trains may not have interested him very much, but this one at least had a dining car and that was pretty rad, all by itself. Might as well take advantage of any little distraction he could while he waited. And besides, he certainly wasn't going to pass up a single opportunity for food, context be damned. Slowing to an average pace, Peter's dark eyes scanned the little tables on either side of the isle -- all clean, white table-cloths and comfortable, black, cushioned chairs, crowded with chatty families of three and four on his left, while a nearly empty row of smaller tables for two were on his right. Not too packed for the after-lunch hour, but then again, there was something to be assumed from the fact that almost everyone here seemed to be people with kids -- AKA, the only ones who would be asking to eat on the train, no matter the time of day. So, basically, he was among his people.

  Sliding into one of the empty seats at a table for two on the right, Peter reached to take off his headphones, then brought up a hand to run, messily, through his silver locks, his gaze darting from the large window beside him, to the toddler staring at him from across the way. The thought crossed Peter's mind, briefly, how much simpler and quicker it would be to just run to the back and take whatever food he wanted. But as long as he was taking it easy, might as well pay for his shit for once. Besides, it wasn't like he had anywhere to go with his stolen goods afterwards, if he did... He turned back to fiddle with the menu on his table as he waited, quickly scanning over the main courses on offer before flipping, aimlessly, to the section on desserts.

  He'd only been waiting for a couple of seconds before movement in his peripheral vision prompted the mutant to lift his gaze, a hopeful wave of 'GOD YES, THE WAITRESS ALREADY' flickering through his thoughts. But no, it was just another passenger, making her way down the isle past him. Peter found himself watching her in an absentminded, zoned-out sort of way, as she waddled along, the woman glancing from side to side, as if trying to decided, herself, where to sit. She was alone, so it wasn't surprising that she chose the same, previously empty row Peter had, plopping down next to her seat the bag she'd been carrying, as she settled down a few tables ahead of the speedster, and facing his way. That last fact was something he unfortunately didn't completely register at first, because Peter -- subconsciously glad to have even the smallest distraction during his wait -- had continued staring after her, mindlessly, noting her short brown hair, and wondering, briefly, about the aforementioned messenger bag she had with her. By the time he realized he was still staring, she'd glanced up and made eye-contact -- and instantly it was weird and awkward.

  Peter sorta panicked for a second and froze mid-chew on his gum. should he immediately look away and play off the very human mistake, or was it too late?? Oh, it was definitely too late, because now she was staring, too, no doubt trying to figure out why he was staring and fucking c hrist, they were just going to be stuck facing one another for the next ten or fifteen minutes, weren't they~? Peter's chocolate hues moved away from her, slowly, and darted around aimlessly for a moment before going back to the stranger, and with an awkward little smile creating dimples in his cheeks, he did the only thing he could think of; he lifted a hand to prop his chin, and raised the other off the table, slightly, to give a tiny, awkward wave.