Peter/Elena: "What's with the tux?"
“You said you wish to go dancing,” he says simply, nodding to himself. “So I’m taking you dancing.”
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Peter/Elena: "What's with the tux?"
“You said you wish to go dancing,” he says simply, nodding to himself. “So I’m taking you dancing.”
“No, no, no, don’t die on me!”
“I don’t believe my internal bleeding shares your sentiment” he says, shortly before coughing, blood spilling from his lips. He knows perfectly well what’s happening to his body. The wound on his neck is a flesh wound, so it’s not that much of a trouble. No, it’s the bullet wounds- one to his chest and two to his abdomen -that will kill him.
"Whose idea of a fun time is this?”
“Mine,” Peter answers simply, not looking up from the book in his hands as he turns a page. He’s aware that some might not find pleasure in sitting and quietly reading a book, but, frankly, it’s his favorite activity. Leave the consuming of alcohol and partying to others.