2007-04-17: Puppykinesis


Elena_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Guest Starring:


Summary: Elena takes Peter on the promised trip out, and he discovers the greatest power of all… puppykinesis.

Date It Happened: April 17th, 2007


Puppy Daycare House

It was in the middle of the week, and after that disaster with the warehouse and Jaden, it was almost fortuitous that Elena had arranged with Peter to meet in this particular day. It wasn't just because -he- needed it, it was because she did as well. Thankfully the crappy weather seems to have cleared up, the skies are blue again, with the sun having risen high. The late afternoon was upon them, but the sun didn't look like it was setting any time soon. The days were getting longer - part of her liked it, part of her dreaded it because she couldn't use the late hours anymore to justify going to sleep.

She wonders if she gets enough sleep these days.

So she has given Peter an address, and she waits outside of it. It doesn't look like a commercial building of any sort - in fact this is right in the suburbs of New York, though it's easily gotten to by bus (not like Peter needs a bus). The hubbub of the crowded city seems far away in comparison. She sees brownstones, the occasional picket fence. She even sees the multicolored chalk drawings left in the sidewalk of little girls who decided to hopskotch recently. It was tranquil. With her days as hectic as it was, she'd take what she could get.

Her clothes today are simple; jeans, a jacket, and a baby t-shirt underneath. It was one of her favorites - Nintendo's Yoshi with his tongue lolling out, snatching a Mario World Goomba with the words 'GET OVER HERE' underneath. Only the truly Geek and Gamer would probably catch the two-videogame reference. Now that she owed Gene something fierce, maybe she ought to get him a larger version of the shirt.

The mp3 player is plugged into her ears, her eyes closing and listening to the strains of her REM playlist….

~It's the end of the world as we know it.
Iiiit's the end of the world as we know it—~

She skips to the next track.


It's true that Peter doesn't need a bus, but he doesn't fly around unless there's an emergency situation either. Especially not in the middle of the afternoon. All he needs is a news helicopter with a camera spotting him to make a bad month even worse, right? No bus is taken, though, instead a New York yellow cab pulls up with a young (though not as young as she thought) Italian man in the back seat. Passing some cash through to the man, there's a few moments more of a pause, before the former nurse steps out of the cab.

Dressed in his usual attire, the walking sponge favors a black coat, with jeans visible underneath. And this time, he also brought a carrier bag, that he hefts up to hang across his chest. It doesn't take him long to spot the young woman with an mp3 player plugged into her ear and the gamer geek shirt on. Cutting down on the distance between them, he smiles and nods, "Hey. Sorry if I'm late. Were you waiting very long?" He probably could have saved time by flying, but again… news helicopters. Not his idea of a good time.

"What is this place exactly?" he glances around, trying to figure it out. It really /doesn't/ look like a commercial building.


Her eyes open, hearing a vehicle nearby through the music. Elena looks up and smiles as Peter gets out of the cab, pushing off the wall she was leaning on and walking up to him. "Low stress," she says, holding a finger up and smiling. "And I did say around four, so you're golden," she tells him with a smile. She scrutinizes him closely - he looks okay, in fact he looks a sight better than when she saw him at Mount Sinai. This causes her smile to broaden, and gestures to the building. "This…" she says grandly. "…is a house."

Yes he can see that.

"Actually my friend's house. Her mother owns a variety of businesses so they can afford a really nice place with a yard." She smiles and gestures for him to follow her, swinging the gate open and stepping on the walkway leading up to the front porch. "Her mom's away on business right now - she runs a particular venture here on site that requires a pair of active eyes. This is usually Sam, the blonde who used to work with me at Starbucks." She wonders if Peter's seen her around once or twice. "Unfortunately Sam forgot she has plans today too, so she begged me to help." She grins over at him. "And before you say anything no this definitely does not mean I only called you to help out," she teases. Getting up on the porch, she rings the doorbell.

Out swoops Sam, who had been waiting for her and gives her a quick hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou SO much." Unlike Elena, Sam Jones IS 20, and she pulls away. She looks dressed to the nines. "I'll be back before you know it." She cuts off, her eyes on Peter, surprised…before turning rather appreciative. Why, hello thar.

"Sam, Peter, Peter, Sam," Elena gestures, smiling.


"I'm not totally blind," Peter responds, tugging on the cuff of his coat with a smile, before he glances towards the house. The explaination earns a nod, and he speaks up there as well, "The one with the actor boyfriend, yeah." That got filed away in his memory when the phone call interupted the tour of his apartment, even if he'd pretty much shown her everything. Following her closer to the house, he looks to be thinking, as if trying to figure out what kinds of jobs would take place in a residental home that would require a backyard. He has a few ideas, but he doesn't outright inquire to see if any of them are right.

"If you were asking me for help, you know you'd have it anyway," he adds on, a hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, before he looks back to the door to see… the enthusiastic Sam, swooping in and hugging her friend.

"Hi, Sam. It's nice to meet you," he says with the same smile continuing, though the appreciative look makes his eyes slide away from her face, and his weight to shift from one foot to the next. Apparently someone retains his shy streak when under scrutiny.


A laugh escapes at his quip, Elena grinning at him at the blind comment, but she leaves it alone. She takes a step back so Sam can watch Peter in all of his Petrelliness, and gives her a nudge. "Brief me, Heinlein," she says with a laugh. "Where's the log book?"

"It's on the countertop on the way to the backyard," Sam says, pushing back a lock of her hair and patting it in place. Now that there was someone cute around, her hair has to look perfect now. "Again, thank you so much, both of you. And it's nice to meet you too." A winning smile is tossed at Peter, and she steps down the porch. "I'll be back by six!" she says, heading down the walk. "No wild parties while I'm gone!"

"We'll be careful to hide the keg and the togas!" Elena calls back with a laugh, opening the door to the residence. "Come on," she tells Peter with a grin. "And wow, good memory," she tells him. Easing inside, she shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up the free-standing coat rack by the door. The interior of the house is well kept - while the Joneses were well-to-do, they weren't filthy rich. But it's a nice, cozy home, with an open interior and hardwood floors. It's clear that Sam's mom leans towards the classic suburban style as the furniture is carefully matched, and the color scheme is perfect down to the detail. A pair of french doors lead to the backyard.

This would also be the part where Peter hears several somethings….yipping?

Elena moves on, dragging the log book from the counter to look at it, and she opens the back door. She peers outside, and grins, easing away so Peter can have a look. And when he does…he'll find furry little balls of fluff. With legs. Of different kinds, and colors. There's about a dozen of them, frolicking in the yard with their tails wagging and gnawing on whatever chew toys Sam had tossed at them before leaving.

There also seems to be a rather large, pure-white dog resting under the shade of the large oak that dominated the back corner of the yard, with little miniatures of herself tumbling around her. The cuteness of it all could break someone's mind.

"Most of the homeowners in this area are serious dog owners," Elena explains. "And almost all of them work in the city. Usually Sam's mom has a staff working today, but there seems to be some sort of spring plague going around with the people she usually hires today so the duties typically fall on Sam, who…." She laughs. "Promptly calls the people she knows to help out. It's me and you by extension today."


The nervousness continues, right up until the young woman sees herself out, leaving them with trust that they won't throw any wild parties. With him around, they could actually aquire a keg, though Peter's not much of the partying type. Keggers were never really his thing, even if he threw a few parties in his apartment back in the day. Stepping through the house, he gives an appreciative nod, not judging the house based on the standards of his mother's house, the mansion, but on his current stands. It's a nice place, and he says so briefly, before he trails off at the yipping sounds.

Eyebrows raising mildly, he glances through the doors, until she opens them, at which case he leans in and looks. The surprised inhale is practically a gasp. "…Elena…" he says her name, the tone almost the same as the gasp that he made, hand going up towards his mouth as if to try and cover his shock and surprise. "You know— when you said a home business that required a pair of eyes… I was half expecting daycare. But not— not this. Not puppy daycare." Sure, he likes kids, and he likes being the cool uncle, but /puppies/… are so much nicer.

"I can see why you'd volenteer for the job whenever she needs help," he adds, looking down towards her, before glancing back through the doors. "This is really nice, Elena."


"Aren't they cute?" Elena says with a broad grin, looking up at Peter after perusing the logbook. She claps it shut and tucks it under her arm. She walks over to the open doorframe, and leans against it, hands in her pockets and her ankles crossed together as she looks out. "I've always loved dogs. I wanted one ever since I was a little girl. But it's not like we could afford a pet. We don't have the money, and we don't have the space. So this? Is the next best thing." She laughs. "Whenever I can and if Sam needs it, I come up here. It's a welcome break from the city too. And it's a lot more sanitary than the animal shelters in the city that depend on donations and charity to keep running."

A gray and black ball of fluff makes a beeline for the new people, and promptly attacks Peter's shoes. Not in the vicious sort of way, but in the 'OOOH NEW SHOES' sort of way. Elena can't help but laugh.

"I always want to take one home with me," she says wistfully. "I can't though. One day, maybe." She steps out into the backyard completely and closes the door. "The big white one…" She gestures to the dog under the oak, tending to her few months-old litter. "Is Lacey. She just had her puppies around…3 months ago or so I think. They're about ready to be adopted according to Sam, but I hear the owner's children are crying at the thought already." She grins, and looks up at the younger Petrelli. "I can't blame them though. They're adorable."


Though his shoes may not like the idea of being attacked, Peter doesn't seem to mind as he steps outside to join. The fact that he doesn't mind is pretty clear when, in answer to her laugh, he smiles rather genuinely, and kneels down to give the puppy a mild ruffling of the top of his head. "You have expensive tastes, little guy," he teases, joking about the quality of his shoes. They're tennis shoes, but they definitely cost a good amount, as a nice pair of tennis shoes often do.

Glancing back up towards Elena, he nods, "Yeah— we had a few dogs growing up, some of them were all mine. But now… I could always give the boys a dog with an ulterior motive of being part mine, but… if I wanted a dog of my own it'd have to be pretty small." Limiting him to smaller breeds, more or less. The puppies, though… they get a long look, as if he's so very tempted at the sight of them. If they get as big as their mother, he'd have a difficult time keeping one, once it grows up. He might have to use the ulterior motive. "They are adorable," he repeats what she said, straightening up to look around.

"So we get to play with puppies for a while? This is why you wanted to bring a camera?" And here he'd thought she had something sinaster in mind. "Good to see your friends haven't turned you into too much of a trouble maker."


The little guy just wags his tail at Peter, tongue lolling out with the 'What? Me?' expression on his face. He squints his eyes when he's ruffled, and trots around his ankles…until something else catches his attention, and that's -Elena's- shoes. These, he promptly attacks as well. Elena laughs, and sets the log book aside on the patio table as she scoops up the little thing and hugs it. Upon hugging the puppy, he promptly starts gnawing on her jacket collar, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Because of your apartment?" Elena says, remembering the space. "I can see that, and smaller dogs are manageable anyway. They're the preferred dogs of New York, where space is at a premium. To own a big one, you'll have to move out here." She sets the puppy back down, which promptly starts chasing the next moving object he sees…which would be the other puppies.

She laughs when Peter pegs on the motive for a camera. "Yup! Though I don't know if my original intention actually counts as evil or not. I'm tempted to take one of you to send to your older brother, see if he's actually capable of making the 'Awww' face." Her grin turns impish. "But yes, we do, for around two hours or so until the 'parents' start picking them up. She looks at the group. "They look like the usual suspects…except for the tiny white one." She furrows her brows, flipping open the log book again. "….huh…that's weird…"


There's a few nods to what she says, talk of his apartment, in particular. "It's not exactly big dog friendly. There's barely enough room for a second person," Peter says, glancing along the puppies a few times, watching the play and frolick. They seem so happy, and it looks as if they're genuinely enjoying their time— but what puppy wouldn't? The hint of a odd puppy out, a tiny white one, draws his eyes to try and spot the smaller puffball among the larger ones. Doesn't take too long, and he watches that puppy for a time.

"You know… this was a really good idea. One of the things in hospice care that we had to learn was called 'puppy therapy'," he explains, stepping out into the yard to get in the way of some of the puppies, and allow them to use him as something to run around, which they do. He turns back to face the young girl as he explains further. "Didn't just use puppies. Rabbits, cats, pretty much anything the patient can handle, depending on allergies. Puppies tended to be pretty common, though. But they can help calm patients, stabalize blood pressure, and even increase duration of life in hospice care." And hospice care tends to be for those who don't have much time left, right? Any added duration is good, especially if it's enjoyed.

"Also helps with depression, anxiety… I was right. You'll make a great doctor," he says with a smile, before he turns back to the puppies, finding the little white fuzz ball and bringing him, or her, over. "So this one's a newer one?" he asks, while the puppy yawns and looks around curiously from this higher perch.


They do, indeed, enjoy their time - especially out in the sun. While it was still cool, thanks to the Spring weather, it isn't the bitter cold of winter. Elena wanders in further into the group, picking up a rolled up, woven mat from the corner of the patio to walk towards the middle of the yard. She is followed, of course, and she's careful not to step on any of the fluffy things as she unrolls the mat, and sits on one edge. A puppy or two crawls on her lap immediately, and she laughs, giving one a bellyrub while she scratches the ears of the other.

She looks over at him, looking a little surprised. "You were in hospice care?" she asks, her eyes falling on him. While she knew Peter used to be a nurse….she thought it was the ER because he seemed so natural doing it, tending to Yael and her bleeding hand. "I…didn't know that. Really, Peter? That's…that's really sweet," she says. There's a hint of incredulity in her voice, simply because not a lot of people would choose that field in particular. "…and difficult. Especially when you consider attachments and everything…" She looks down at the puppy gnawing on her finger, smiling. "I've actually heard of that, but I honestly don't know much about it. What I did find out relating to it was that there are dogs and cats, I think, who could be trained to actually detect the changes of a human being's biochemistry, especially the elderly. They can actually be taught to call for help or even warn the patient ahead of time before anything hits."

She smiles and patpats the mat. It's big enough for the both of them, and at least this way, they won't accidentally step on an active puppy.

When he moves over to her, she nods. "Yeah….it's strange though, his…or her…entry in the logbook." She wiggles her fingers towards the new puppy with a smile. "No name. No mention of the owner. I think it's one of the drop-offs. Sam's mom gets that on occasion, someone sees the ad on the paper, thinks the business is an orphanage, drops the puppy off, and just leaves without looking back." She frowns a little at the thought. "Abandoned just like that."

But when he tells her about the doctor thing, she flushes a touch, pink tinging her cheeks as she grins at him, and rubs the back of her neck. "I try," she says with a laugh. "In all honesty I got the idea after I saw your owl cookie jar."


"It's— not as difficult as it sounds. It's harder on them, and their family," Peter tries to explain, looking a little sheepish as if he's never quite been sure how to handle this particular compliment, especially when a young girl would be involved. "Can't say I didn't get attached to my patient, and his family, but— as long as I helped make the days he had left good… that's what matters." What she says about the trained cats and dogs earns a nod, as he agrees with the statement quite well. "I've heard of that too. Animals are in tune with their owners, and they can smell and hear changes in physical and emotional health."

But as he settles down beside her, with the puppy in his hands, he tries to imagine what it must be like… abandoned. "Are you serious? People just… abandon dogs here?" It shouldn't really surprise him, but… it does. Settling the puppy into his lap, the only restraint it gets is a hand resting on it's back, to keep him or her from running off, as he begins to rub the little pointed eats. "I don't see why anyone would abandon a puppy like this." Well behaved, clean— possibly even purebred. But should either of them look up information on the breed, they'd notice one flaw that would disqualify the puppy from shows, which might be a reason she's been abandoned. Her eyes are blue-gray, rather than the nearly black-brown of show quality dogs.

Running his hand over the fluffy coat of fur, he glances back towards the young woman at the mention of his cookie jar, laughing, "Really? How did you know that wasn't an unfortunately house warming present I was too nice to give away?" A pause later, and he gives the answer, even if she didn't ask, "It wasn't. I actually bought it for myself at a— not a garage sale, but it was at my nursing school. People brought in a bunch of their junk they wanted to get rid of and sold it for a charity benifit. I thought it was really cute." Yes, he'll admit it. He thought it was really cute. Just like he finds the puppy in his lap really cute. And she's also /tired/, as shown by yawning again and trying to squirm around to find a comfortable laying spot.


"I know but…" Elena looks up, shielding her eyes a little bit at the height of the sun that was still relatively high in the sky. "…I know if I was in the same position, it would be hard. Probably not at first, but when I start finding out how cool they are, what sort of lives they lead - and you know me, I can be pretty chatty, I just…" She falls silent for a bit. "That and being able to feel all of that, but at the same time doing their best to make them happy, laugh a little bit….all that. I guess I should start to get used to the idea now, that people….well, -most- people, would die eventually. It's so easy for the young to feel immortal. The profession will change all of that, I think, if I decide to go that way. You'll never know, something might come up and sweep me away." She toys with the puppy on her lap, and looks up when Peter sits next to her with his. She grins faintly, watching him pet the little white fluffball that yawns.

"And yeah, sometimes. It happens in the city all the time, I try not to judge because…well, there's no way of knowing what the circumstances really are, but there you have it. Usually when I see the description, and a blank line for everything else, I tend to see the signs already by how Sam or her mom enters it in the log book. Usually they just bring the abandoned puppy to the shelter, even if Sam hates that part of the job. It can't be helped sometimes…" She looks over at the white puppy and laughs. "She's so mellow," she observes, reaching out to scritch her ears as well.

When Peter challenges her as to how she knew, and then later confesses that it wasn't, she laughs, and gives him a look. "Peter, you're a guy," she tells him, the dimple appearing on her left cheek at the broadness of her grin, and at what she was about to say. "Saying as someone who grew up with -three- of them, if something that cute was in their possession even as a present, they would hide it from the public eye. My little brother Luis -still- has the baby blanket abuela stitched for him, this pastel blue thing with little butterflies on it - but he'd die first before he showed it to anyone. -Especially- his crew when they come over to play videogames. The fact that you left it out speaks to me through my personal experience that it's a conscious choice to have an extremely cute cookie jar."

She grins. "I'd like to say that I totally had a Sherlock Holmes moment, but…I kind of cheated in that one," she confesses with another laugh.


"There's plenty of doctor jobs where you won't have to sit through a patient's death," Peter explains, continuing to pet the puppy, though he shifts the way he's sitting to give a better area for her to stretch out, flopping over onto her side finally and beginning to breathe softer. She's definitely calm, and might even be dozing off right where she's planted herself. Warm body heat, and all, comfortable. It's unfortunate, because as the young woman mentions a shelter, he frowns faintly, looking down at the lulling puppy, whose eyes close and then open again, mouth open to breath, ears twitching…

There's hesitation, that gets derailed by talk of his cute cookie jar. "Guess I see what you mean, there. Not your normal kind of guy, I guess," he says, practically teasing himself. Before he remembers something suddenly. "Oh— I almost forgot. The puppies distracted me…" The poor napping puppy gets shifted as he moves to reach into his carrier bag, still held over his shoulder and pulls something out. Unwrapped, it's obvious what he's pulled out is a CD, and the cover shows a big American flag design. The Testament of Freedom: Randall Thompson: Frostania.

"The only thing I could find it on was this, a joint CD. It has a few other things, but it also has those poems you mentioned, that's Frostania part. You said you didn't have it yet, so…" He passes it over to her, a hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.


"I know," Elena says. "But you can't escape it especially in a field like that. I LIKE to think that we can all live forever in some fashion or another." She grins and looks at Peter. "I'm sure I'll grow out of it though. Maybe when I'm 21 and discover sex, drugs, and alcohol," she remarks - poking fun at her young age and all its stereotypes. "…oh, and gambling too, since apparently teenagers can't learn how to play poker until then." She nods sagely. Yes. Old enough to drive and KILL SOMEONE if reckless enough, but not old enough to spend their own money away on the dice. Yeeeeees. The world made perfect sense.

"Thjat's okay," she tells him with a grin. "I won't tell anyone." It's obviously a tease back, and then she shakes her head. " 'Normal' is overrated anyways. Especially these days. Besides…at this point no one knows what it really means anymore. I say it's a purely subjective creature." She furrows her brows, stopping a bit when she sees Peter go through his bag. "…what…?" she starts to say, until the CD is produced and passed off to her.

She takes it, and looks at the title of the CD. When he explains it further, she's turned it around to look at the track list at the back. "…wait, you remembered?" she says, glancing over at him, surprise etched in her features. She grins, and turns the CD back around again so she could see the seven poems converted into the cantatas. "His most famous poem." She taps her finger lightly on the track list marked 'Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.' She looks up at him and smiles, leaning to nudge her shoulder slightly against his. "Thank you so much." There's a pause, and she bursts out laughing. "I still can't believe you remembered. It's -one- conversation! I mean, I talk so much…maybe all that sponge power doesn't just apply to special abilities."


Oh, she /could/ discover sex now if she wanted to. And go into strip clubs, as long as they're not also primarily a bar that doesn't allow minors. And buy porn. But— Peter just smiles faintly, laughing a little at her comment. "Oh, you can play poker, you just can't bet money on it." There's such a thing as strip poker. But again… he's not going to say that. There's a comment he wants to make, but he decides to put wait on that, for a few moments, as he waits for her reaction to his gift.

Her surprise makes his eyes lower, looking a little sheepish as he fidgets by scritching the puppy's neck. Puppy doesn't mind this kind of fidgetting at all. "I remembered, yeah— you can consider it a late birthday present," he says, glancing up very briefly to give a smile, not saying that he'd already ordered the CD before he knew that her birthday had just recently passed.

"See— one thing I learned from being a hospice nurse… is that death is one thing that all of us have in common. Death and life. Everyone goes through it at one point or another. And death… exists to let us appreciate life. Without it, if we didn't die… if there wasn't an end to everything one day. We wouldn't appreciate what we have while we have it. And we wouldn't— realize— that the only thing that really matters— is what we do while we're alive. The people we meet, the lives we touch. It connects all of us in some way."

There's a long serious pause, before he suddenly looks up, "Do you think Sam and her mom would let me keep this puppy? Instead of sending it off to a shelter?"


"Peter…" Usually it was -her- that gave other people stuff, and while this wasn't the first time that anyone's ever given a gift, Elena usually doesn't expect them. But she does have a little happy smile on her face, even when the gift is something so simple. She wasn't a picky person, it was the little things that made her happy. She glances down at the CD again, and she laughs. "I'll give you a review, maybe you can borrow it if you're interested enough," she says, slipping the CD carefully in the inner pocket of the jacket she wore. She reaches over after as he's looking away from her, giving him a hug. She releases him after a brief squeeze, and she carefully rolls over one of the more hyperactive puppies that's just attacked her out of nowhere, and starts tickling its belly.

She listens to him then, her levity giving way into something more serious with the line of her mouth. But she doesn't interrupt him. After he speaks she looks over at him. "I guess it's not surprising to hear," she begins. "With the work you did it's impossible not to reflect on things like that." She looks up. "You're right though. We don't appreciate the things we have and what we're given enough. It's a classic human failing." She glances down at the CD in her pocket, and she smiles. " 'But I have promises to keep,' " she quotes in a soft, singsong voice. " 'And miles to go before I sleep.' " The classic Frost was, coincidentally, about not giving in to Death until everything in Life was finished first. Or was it a coincidence? She didn't believe in it anymore, not with the way they were going.

Another surprise. She looks over at him. "…you really want to keep her?" she says, looking down at the puppy, and then at Peter. "…I don't think they'll mind. You'll probably be Sam's hero if you do. She -hates- bringing them to the shelter. Especially when they're this young. When she comes back we can let her know." She smiles. "She'll be so happy."


Luckily, or perhaps not, she's befriended a giver. Peter's always been a fan of gift giving traditions, perhaps due to the proximity of his birthday to Christmas, and the tradition that he got into of giving presents at the same time as recieving many of his own. He's definitely pleased at the reception, leaning into the hug, even as he tries not to dislodge the little puppy that's trying to stay comfortable enough to sleep in his lap.

"It's not just appreciating what we have… but also what other people have. Who other people are— and what they mean to us. It's very much a connecting idea…" Connecting people, much how they've discovered so many coincidental (or not so coincidental) connections with others in the past. With each other. With their friends. Among their family…

Including, in many ways, this little puppy. "Yeah, I'd like to keep her. Maybe I'm supposed to." Coincidence, and all. "Even know what I'm going to call her," he adds, glancing over at her for a long moment before he pulls both of his hands to lift up the puppy, holding her under her front legs. Her eyes lull open and she yawns again, before looking at him in a 'no sleep now?' kind of way. She doesn't really seem to mind, because after the yawn she starts to look around again, trying to figure out how it is she's flying exactly.

"I'm thinking Snowy," he says, glancing down towards the hiding place of the CD she'd just presented. "After his most famous poem," he says, actually giving her a hint of a wink, before he sets the puppy back down on his lap. She either likes the idea of her name, or hates it, because she suddenly jumps up on his chest, tail wagging and starts trying to climb back up towards his face, failing miserably, but looking cute as gravity forces her to fall and roll back onto his lap.


Tradition was important, of course…culturally, especially for her. All she sees, really, is Peter being ….well, Peter. All of her friends have distinct personalities, and this wasn't the first time she's realized just how generous Peter really was. And not just with tangible objects. His time, his care, and even his affection. He wasn't without his faults, naturally. He was his worst critic, and he tended to brood. He shone despite all of that, however, and with him existing in New York, she can at least be able to hold onto the belief, and with good reason, that New Yorkers didn't suck.

She shifts a little bit. Instead of sitting cross-legged on the mat, she leans back, bending one knee and shifting the other underneath so the puppies can use her leg as some kind of a jungle gym. She smiles, watching two of them grab at her dangling sneakers laces and pull. She even swings her leg a little bit, grinning to herself.

"I could believe that," she muses softly, contemplatively, looking up at the sky above their heads again. "Even with the advent of technology, human contact is still necessary for a person's wellbeing. At least I think so anyway. I'm not afraid to be alone, but I'd rather I be with someone…especially when you're the type to get bored easily." She rolls her head towards Peter and grins at him. There is a pause, and she looks away from him, her cheerful tone leaving in the wake of something a touch more serious. "No matter how much it hurts when they're not there anymore. People aren't meant to feel hollow."

When Peter picks up the puppy to look at her more closely, she watches the tail wagging sleepily back and forth. She can't help but laugh, and when the younger Petrelli brother names her, she blinks. And then she laughs, reaching over so she could ruffle her fingers on the little ball's soft fur. "Snowy it is. I think she likes it," she remarks. "See, maybe you were meant to have her, the day practically named her itself."


All Peter can really do is nod in agreement to what she's said, because— well— they both seem to have the same way of thinking about things like this. People are a requirement. More than just the flaws she's seen, he's also highly insecure a lot of the times, a flaw he's been called on in the past, though he's gotten better at making his own decisions, recently. Like now, with the puppy. The puppy hops up his chest again, letting out a light yip, tail wagging, and his hands reach up to hold her there, and then, with a glance behind him, he lays back on the mat, giving Snowy, and the other puppies, plenty of him to wallow on, which a few of them do, hopping up onto his shoulder and threatening his face with doggie kisses. Or at least noses.

"Think you're right. Now I just hope Elle doesn't shock me for bringing home a puppy that's going to need training," he lets Snowy move up his chest, and she nudges his chin with her nose, before he glances back at Elena, "Elle's going to be staying at my apartment with me. She'd been away for a couple weeks, since right before I ran into Sylar. Fixing a few things with her family— and— other things. She got back yesterday.

In some ways there's a hint of seriousness in his tone, but it's hard to be too serious when a puppy suddenly decides to lick his chin. He lets out a laugh, placing his palm on the top of Snowy's head, and looking back up towards the sky. "Might be good for her, though. She had a dog before the— before we left." Though he doubts that Goblin would have been as cute as Snowy is.


The puppies do treat him like a jungle gym. Some crawling on him. Others giving him a few licks. The precocious black-and-gray one that first attacked him earlier attacks his shoes, again. Maybe he really did have expensive tastes. As he plays with the puppy while letting himself be the others' chew-paw toy at the present moment, there's is a small, telltale flash. If he looks up, Elena's grinning…and holding a contraption that's certainly -not- her signature cherry red phone. It looks more high tech. Jaden had given her a phone paid for by EvoSoft in case his "sidekick" needed calling, and her throwaway red one didn't have the built in camera. So she uses what she's given.

"If you're worried about training," she says, watching the image render itself on the LCD screen and laughs, turning it around so she could show it to him. "Lachlan's a professional dog trainer," she reminds him. "If you need any help he's probably one of the best people to get. He can probably make her learn quick, especially if space is an issue."

When he mentions Elle, she laughs, rolling a puppy over to belly-rub him as she continues. "Big step," she says with a dimpled grin. "Congratulations. And if she's had a dog before, at least you know she's a dog person, right? Besides…who can say no to that face?" She rubs a fingertip gently on the center of Snowy's forehead. "No one could say no to that face."


There's a laugh as Peter notices the picture taking, and then gets shown the exact image that she snapped. That doesn't mean he sits up, though, or tries to knock the puppies away. In fact, he stretches his legs out more to give better jungle gym area, and also allow more access to his expensive shoes. Even if they start tugging on the shoe laces and end up untying his shoes, he doesn't really care all that much. It makes him happy. Which was exactly what Elena sought to do. So it works.

Keeping his hands close to the white fluff ball, he smiles over at her and nods, "I could ask Lachlan, yeah. He did seem pretty good with the dog Cass has, Bonnie." At least he /thinks/ it's Cass' dog. Snowy yips mildly at the poking, but is obviously not upset because her little puffy tail wags happily. With a laugh, the former nurse runs his hand over her head, smoothing back her ears, before they droop down again. "No, I couldn't say no to you either."

With an inhale, he looks back towards the camera lady and his smile softens, "I'm really glad you brought me here. Thank you."

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