as much as he looked forward to these visits, it didnât stop the twinge of guilt that always blossomed in his chest when he shared minervaâs company: the two had met under extraordinary circumstances, with him behind bars and her surveying his sad attempt at portraying himself as bigger and older than he really was. the streets had matured him quickly, but it was no question that he was on a downhill path with the trajectory that he was going. minerva had seen something in him, something he never could understand, never could manage to ask her about, and had taken the risk of inviting him into her home after his weekend stint in their precinct was over. it mirrored todayâs visit, except he was grimier then, smaller but trying to appear stronger, on alert in case it was a trap. still, heâd brought flowers then too, smaller, less colorful, stolen from someoneâs windowsill, something to soften the edges that he imagined minerva saw him with. after all, he was, as petty as his crimes were, a criminal.
and everything else, as they say, was history.
âyour parents are real good with the name picking, minervaâs a pretty bad ass name. dunno what it actually means though, maybe something about like⊠the heart or something, cause minerva, nervesâŠ.â he let his words empty out into the wind, a little embarrassed now that heâd even said anything at all. it was impossible that minerva actually had anything to do with nerves, and he didnât know jack shit about what or where names came from. he knew where his did, but that was because heâd chosen it for himself. âif thatâs what youâd rather i call you, then i havenât got a problem with that.â minnie. it was so⊠familiar, and familial, and such an intimate request to make of someone who was, essentially, a stranger to minervaâs life. as such, it weighed heavy on peterâs chest, and left him feeling just a tad bit emotional about the whole affair. âdo i⊠do i also call you that when weâre out there where other people could hear? they might find it weird, me calling you minnie.â he jabbed a thumb to a window. he didnât want to mar her reputation by having her associated with the likes of a nobody like him.
the most that peter could do was nod surreptitiously, keeping his eyes planted still on his plate, because it was a nice gesture, it really was, but at the end of the day, he knew that he would be hard pressed to actually take her up on her offer. she had a good life, one that need not be dirtied up by his activities. sometimes he was tempted to tell her about his worries with the marauders, that they were going too far from what had been agreed upon, but it was his burden to bear, and she had already done so much for him⊠âi havenât got much, itâs really only the couch and the bed, everything else is kind of⊠stuck to a wall.â he smiled though, trying to steer the conversation to better, happier waters. âpaperwork though? youâre right, that sounds boring. i figured joining the nypd was all like, chasing after people, getting into gun fights, that sort of thing.â
It was with no small amount of pride that Minnie could admit how far Peter had come in his visits to her apartment. He was always just a bit on edge while he was here, but the years had mellowed it slightly. She was fairly certain those first few months of visits that he was moments away from jumping out of the chair should she so much as cough in his direction, the poor dear. She hoped as time progressed he would grow even more comfortable in her home-the part of her that considered him hers and thought about him in terms of son more so than friend also hoped he would one day consider it his home, as well, even having never lived there. It was a balancing act, not pushing Peter too much as to spook him, but some days she did regret not attempting to adopt him properly when he was younger. She was fairly certain it wouldnât have gone well if she had tried.
âI believe my mother named me after the Roman goddess of wisdom,â she told him with a fond smile playing at her lips, âThough I find myself more partial to your explanation of my name, to be honest. I might keep it as my nameâs meaning, if you donât mind.â His logic had been sound, and it had warmed her heart to have him think highly enough of her to have that be what he associated with her name. âThere is nothing weird about it,â she said, her tone clipped at what Peter was implying. She narrowed her eyes at him, just slightly, âYou call me Minnie whenever you like, no matter who might be around. I donât give a hoot what anyone might think about it; youâve known me long enough to have that level of familiarity with me and Iâve invited you to use my given name. Should anyone give you a problem about it,â she paused, looking at him, âyou let me know and Iâll have a chat with them, alright?â
âWell, you have the essentials, and thatâs really what matters,â Minnie said, seeing no issue of the sparseness. Most of her own possessions were ones she inherited from her mother or her husband, not ones she had gone out of her way to acquire. She personally found her apartment a bit too cluttered now, but she was hard pressed to get ride of anything due to the sentimental value now attached. Minnie laughed, shaking her head. âIt was a bit like that back when I was young, Peter, but Iâm a bit too old to be running around the city at this point.â
