Clad in deep blue winter coat, unbuttoned and over a white-collared shirt and slacks and particularly snow-resistant shoes, Peter Pevensie waits in the hospital lobby at five to one on Friday. He realizes that it's been quite some time between communications with himself and Doctor Allison Cameron, but that has never been much cause for someone like Peter to avoid further interaction. If anything it makes the meeting more reasonable, and lunch is a pleasant, neutral kind of territory where one can order things like tea but one is not limited to steeped leaves.
Hands in his pockets, one lightly around the device always on him save for particularly forgetful days, it's possible he smells clean like the winter outside but also lightly of hay. It's not a bad smell as it's not wet hay, just that warm straw-stacked kind of overlay the way the smoke from a wood-fire insinuates warmth even if it's just the smell.
In the absence of three most dear to him, Peter finds himself particularly grateful for this lunch. Allison is level-headed from what he knows of her and what he's been firsthand witness to himself be it in conversation or otherwise, and she has a kindness to her that he likes tempered with an intelligence he easily gravitates to. Her concentration in medicine is some cause for this of course, but there are other doctors he could speak with; he prefers her.
Waiting, he doesn't take seat and when asked by someone if he needs help he shakes his head an smiles no, but thank you. He's fine. It's the easy answer perfect strangers afford him.
❝ do you believe in what you see? there doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me ❞
Hands in his pockets, one lightly around the device always on him save for particularly forgetful days, it's possible he smells clean like the winter outside but also lightly of hay. It's not a bad smell as it's not wet hay, just that warm straw-stacked kind of overlay the way the smoke from a wood-fire insinuates warmth even if it's just the smell.
In the absence of three most dear to him, Peter finds himself particularly grateful for this lunch. Allison is level-headed from what he knows of her and what he's been firsthand witness to himself be it in conversation or otherwise, and she has a kindness to her that he likes tempered with an intelligence he easily gravitates to. Her concentration in medicine is some cause for this of course, but there are other doctors he could speak with; he prefers her.
Waiting, he doesn't take seat and when asked by someone if he needs help he shakes his head an smiles no, but thank you. He's fine. It's the easy answer perfect strangers afford him.