[ He barely restrains the urge to scowl at Alec’s retreating back, though he bores holes into it with his eyes, all the same.
After that, he polishes off the glass, leaves it with another passing waitress. He takes up a second glass, but only nurses it, instead of chugging it as he had before. This glass is more for appearances than for enjoyment (or for throwing back, as the case may be); he reluctantly admits Brennan has a point: there’s work to do.
He stomps down on the resentment, the bitterness, (the cold slither of fear,) shoves it into the mental box labeled in angry red, “Shit to Deal with Later (Or Possibly Never).” Evidently they’ve drawn invisible lines down the center of the grand hall, and while Alec heads in one direction, Peter turns himself toward the other. Plastering on his best smile, he moves in the opposite direction, intent on gathering information. ]
no subject
After that, he polishes off the glass, leaves it with another passing waitress. He takes up a second glass, but only nurses it, instead of chugging it as he had before. This glass is more for appearances than for enjoyment (or for throwing back, as the case may be); he reluctantly admits Brennan has a point: there’s work to do.
He stomps down on the resentment, the bitterness, (the cold slither of fear,) shoves it into the mental box labeled in angry red, “Shit to Deal with Later (Or Possibly Never).” Evidently they’ve drawn invisible lines down the center of the grand hall, and while Alec heads in one direction, Peter turns himself toward the other. Plastering on his best smile, he moves in the opposite direction, intent on gathering information. ]