2007-03-15: Third Wheels


Drake_icon.gif Claire_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Peter and Drake show up at the Bennet's hotel to meet the same girl at the same time. Also includes long awaited conversation with Peter's niece about where Peter's been for the last five months.

Date It Happened: March 15, 2007

Third Wheels

Outside the Bennet's Hotel and Inside Too

Sitting on a bench across the street from the hotel is Drake, with his guitar in his lap, strumming along slowly as he softly hums to himself. It's near evening, and he's been waiting for Claire for about a half hour now, figuring either she's going to be fashionably late, or she's having a hell of a time making up an excuse to sneak out. Next to him, is a single rose wrapped up in plastic with a bit of water near the end, complete with a red piece of string wrapped about it's neck. He sways a bit as his fingers pluck away the notes, quietly starting to sing. "… One Song, Glory… one song before I go.. Glory.. one song to leave behind.. find.. one song.. one last refrain.. glory.. from the pretty boy front man, who wasted opportunity. One song, yet the world at his feet.. glory..in the eyes of a young girl..young girl.." It seems that the young guitarist is on a RENT fixation again as he goes back to humming, slumping back into the bench, and rolling his eyes upwards to peer across the street.

Unaware of the impending date, Peter's more interested in visiting his niece for the first time since the goodbyes after he escaped. As soon as he found out his apartment still existed, he's switched back to his own clothes, comfortable in the dark colors and the coats all his own. The dark coat keeps out the lingering chill of late winter in New York City, and the turned up collar gives an whimsical appearance. Hands in his pockets, he can't help but glance around him as he approaches the hotel, unaware of the level of security that his niece's adopted father would put on the place. Approaching invisible could have been an option, but in a way he's testing things first. Approaching from the side of the street that Drake is on, he glances up towards the hotel, then looks towards the young man strumming away and singing. Expression serious and quiet, some might even gauge him as being sad, the side of his lips quirk briefly into a smile at the teenager's song.

"Find.. glory.. beyond the cheap colored lights. One song before the sun sets! Glory, on another..empty… life. Time fliiiiiieeees… Time diiiiiiieeeeees!" Drake practically roars out as he hits the strings a bit harder, as appropriate to the song that he is mimicking, enjoying himself on this lonely, cold New York night. Well, it was lonely, until he catches sight of Peter heading near by. With a clear of his throat, he straightens himself up a bit and quiets down, allowing his fingers to go back to their plucking method as he taps the heel of his sneaker against the concrete beneath him.

At the rather excited performance of the song, the smile quirks just a little more than before, pushing away some of the residual seriousness that lingered in his expression. Peter blinks when he realizes that the teenager's settling down after noticing him. "Oh, don't let me disturb you," he says, once the realization that he made someone stop their performance. "I was enjoying your performance, really. You're quite good," he says honestly, the smile actually touching the other side of his lips. Sounds like an honest opinion, too, though he glances back towards the hotel for a moment. The way his hand starts fidgeting against the sleeve of his coat might hint to his nervousness, though for a completely different reason than the young man's. Still, he's not walking across the street just yet, either.

"Oh.. ah.. thanks. I'm just killing time really, waiting for my girlfriend." Drake says with a chuckle as he runs a hand back through his blonde hair, once more going back to the strumming of his guitar. "She's making me wait it seems, that or she's trying to come up with a good excuse. Over protective dad." He dips his head, amused as he angles his head over towards Peter. "Rumor is we're supposed to have some sunny days coming up soon." He says in the way of conversation as he wiggles out a quick playful bout of notes as they go from high to low, then back into an easy strum. "I hope so, because I'm getting tired of the cold."

Well— best way to forget one's nervousness would be to empathize with someone else's. And even if he's ten years older than the teen, at least, he can remember what'd that'd been like, dating. Glancing over at him, Peter sees the rose, and nods at what he says, "Remember what that was like. Most dads are over protective, in their own way." Uncles can be too, but in a different way than fathers. Not that he even thinks for a second that he'd know who he's talking about. Pretty universal idea, there. His own maybe-girlfriend has father issues, and she's not even a teenager… "I'm— visiting my niece," he adds in explaination for his own reason for being here. "She's not expecting me, though, so— I'm not even sure if she's here." He really should have called first. "I hope it's warmer soon, though. Imagine it's not easy to play that in the cold."

"Yeah, Claire says that pretty much he keeps her under lock and key. I dunno… she's working on trying to get into school, hopefully mine. I'd love to take her to prom this year if possible." Drake says as he shifts the guitar off to the side, then tucks his arms back behind his neck. "You could always give her a call, you know." He tilts his head to Peter. "See if she picks up. Probably woulda saved you the trip down here in case she wasn't here." It seems like they're thinking on the same lines as he lets out a yawn. "Lemmie ask your opinion… Pietro's, or Murillos? I'm kinda leaning towards mexican. Haven't taken her there yet, but.. you think Mexi' may be dangerous? I'm dying for a good burrito, but I'm not sure if that's really romantic."

Almost as soon as the teenage boy mentions the name 'Claire' he's got the former nurse's attention. In fact, Peter's practically staring at him, to the point he's doesn't register the question part completely. Looking at him and registering all he says are two different things. The first part keeps going over in his mind. Claire. Overprotective dad. Trying to get into a school, which means she's not in one yet. A few moments after the teen stops talking, stops asking a question, he blinks out of it. "I'm sorry, did you just say Claire? Is that your girlfriend's name?" Everything else that had been said kinda gets pushed to the wayside for the moment. Same hotel. Same name. Over protective dad keeping her under lock and key.

"Yeah. Claire. Kinda Little House on the Prairie, but it suits her well, I guess." Drake says with an amused laugh as he gives his head a bit of a shake, then turns his chin upwards somewhat, peeking at him. "Why you ask?" Shifting himself forward some, he places his hands on the top of his knees, suddenly getting a weird feeling in his stomach. He pauses for a moment, then says, "Claire.. Jackson. Been dating for -years-, kinda, sorta. Grew up together here in New York." Ok, so he's lying, and that's against the commandments, but for all he knows, this guy cuts off people's heads and eat their brains and is named after a watch company.

The weird feeling carries between the two of them, actually, as the smile begins to grow more serious. Peter can't help but look at the teen with a mix of surprise and something else. This could all just be a coincidence. As the boy starts to throw out lies, though, something registers in the back of his mind, a whisper that causes his head to twitch to the side. Don't be Sylar, please don't be Sylar, please don't be Sylar. Tilting to the side, eyebrows lowering, for a moment it looks almost like he suddenly got hit with a headache. Or a case of lightheadedness. When that clears, though… he's staring at the teen again. Still surprised. The surprise ends in him shaking his head, almost wanting to laugh. He might, if his head didn't hurt now. Just means he's smiling a bit. Really, what is it with destiny these days? "Claire's a pretty name. Though it doesn't fit well with Jackson," he must admit. "My niece has the same first name."

Coughing out a laugh, Drake tries to play up on his bluff. "Yeah, I tell her that the name doesn't make sense. So, I take to calling her CJ for short." He trails off a bit, squinting his eyes. "So, what is your Claire's last name?" He asks curiously enough. "Let's see if it fits better." Amused, he reaches for his guitar again, drawing it closer to his person as if it was a security blanket. That, or to use it as an instrument of death if he does try to open up his head for some brain food.

Just in time to make an awkward situation even more awkward, Claire Bennet - not Jackson - decides that now would be an ideal time to leave her room. It isn't that she was arguing with her father over leaving the hotel, as they seem to have come to an understanding about a teenager's need for space. In fact, it wasn't for any reason more complex than this: Claire is a teenaged girl. Indecision over attire, especially when you don't have a best friend to poll, is a common problem. It's with great haste, and both hands hurriedly trying to fasten an earring, that she passes through the lobby and heads for the front doors, shoving them open with her hip.

CJ would be a cute nickname, really, even if he knows that's not the real last name. The thoughts worrying about Sylar clued him in rather quickly. Peter's still recovering from the mind reading activation, though, as shown by the tension along his temple and forehead. Glancing off towards the hotel again, he tries to decide if he should answer that question or not. He doesn't see her moving in the lobby towards the door, as he looks back to the teenager too quickly. "Bennet," he answers with a hint of a smile, but hopefully not of the creepy variety. "Claire Bennet." And just so this poor boy doesn't take off and run away, convinced he's Sylar, he adds a second later, "I'm Peter."

Blinking his eyes for a moment, Drake brightens up visibly. ".. Peter? Peter Petrelli?" He can't help but grin as he rises to his feet, staring at the other man. "I went in to help rescue you. I was on the back up squad. You.. you are her /uncle/?!" He looks completely blown by that realization. "She didn't tell me that.. you were her uncle." He rubs the back of his neck, looking practically giddy. "So, when do we start saving New York?" He asks, attentive, as if he was speaking to a commanding officer.

When her eyes first find Drake seated on the bench across the street, Claire doesn't realize that he's standing with her illustrious, now infamous uncle. In fact, it's been so many days without communication that Peter is the last person she would expect to see standing outside her hotel. When Drake rises to his feet so abruptly, however, and begins speaking animatedly to Peter, Claire flicks a glance back to her uncle, narrowing her eyes. Waiting for a lull in traffic that never quite comes, she dashes across the street, looking flustered and confused. "Peter?"

The mere fact that he's recognized as /Peter Petrelli/ based on his first name alone, might be enough to cause quite a bit of surprised. Everything that follows just compounds. Turning more towards the teen, his expression looks bewildered. The third person he'd never met before to be involved in his rescue. At least this one remembers the rescue attempt, unlike the last. When do we start saving New York? In a 'commanding officer' tone? What? "Wait, hold on— we— we need to— " How can he answer that question. The arrival of Claire helps him not have to answer that. Allowing it to trail off with a nervous sound as he glances towards his niece. "Claire— hi. Sorry, I know I should have called before I tried to see you. Wasn't aware you'd have plans with…?" He glances towards the boy who's name he still hasn't gotten.

"I am Drake Maxwell." The young man says with a firm nod of his head, taking in a deep breath, as if he was trying to take in the moment. Before he can say anything else, Claire's voice catches his attention, and he turns towards the once cheerleader from Texas, and gives her a goofy smile. Reaching over to the bench, he plucks up the rose in a sweeping, grand gesture, offering it to her, all grins. "Hey there." He says, swaying a bit on his feet as he clears his throat. "I thought for a moment you weren't gonna get out of there. So.. destiny, right?" He asks, glancing from her, to Peter. "Elena will blow her top when I tell her this."

The presence of her uncle sets her on edge, somewhat, and while she ought to be pleased enough just to be out of her hotel room and receiving a rose from Drake, there's a lingering frown on her face. Her attention divided, she takes the rose with a swift, anxious smile, still appreciative, if distracted. "Hey, thanks. Sorry I'm so late," she says sheepishly, with no further explanation before she looks back to Peter. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The presence of her uncle sets her on edge, somewhat, and while Claire ought to be pleased enough just to be out of her hotel room and receiving a rose from Drake, there's a lingering frown on her face. Her attention divided, she takes the rose with a swift, anxious smile, still appreciative, if distracted. "Hey, thanks. Sorry I'm so late," she says sheepishly, with no further explanation before she looks back to Peter. "What is it? What's wrong?" Standing between them, not wanting to move closer to one lest the other feel somehow rejected, she rubs one arm with the opposite hand, a nervous habit. "Is it Nathan?"

"Elena…" he repeats the name with the same bewildered look on his face. Man, this world feels a lot smaller the longer he stands in it. Peter's only been out of the facility for a week and he already feels like there's people counting on him, people'd he'd never met before. And one he has, and owes quite a bit to. He doesn't even know how much. "Nathan's fine," he reassures to start off, pulling his hands up to run over his short dark hair. "He's back at the Mansion now, even. Safe and sound." More than at least one member of the group, that he knows of. "Just— wanted to see you," he says. "I promised I'd explain things, but— I can come back later. Don't want to interrupt your date with— Drake."

"Oh, it's hardly an interruption." Drake says, reaching out boldly to slide a hand into Claire's, giving it a firm squeeze, fingers entwining. "You didn't tell me he was your /Uncle./" Geez, may as well say you're related to Donald Trump. He honestly seems impressed. He's standing in front of the guy that nearly ten people threw their neck out on the line for. The Chosen One. The Messiah. The guy who made sure New York didn't blow up! Then again, it's not like he knows 'everything.' "That.. is cool." He says with a brilliant smile.

"He's fine?" Taken aback, Claire casts a wary look to Peter, searching his face for some indication that he might be uncertain. "Someone said he was out of touch. I thought— " What did she think, even? She's not even sure. She's grateful, at least, for the distraction provided by Drake's hand. In response to his remark, however, she simply shrugs her shoulders in something akin to indifference. "I didn't think it was important." And she wasn't sure just how much to admit. "Is there… going to be a later?" she asks Peter, a skeptical look turned back his way. "After S— what happened, when I didn't hear from you, I thought you were avoiding me."

Glancing away, Peter can't help but shift where he says as the teenager looks at him with what can only be described as admiration. Hero worship, even. "I'm really— not all that Hiro made me out to be." While he'd told Elena what really happened, and discovered just how little she knew, he's not so sure he can shatter this younger teen's image quite as quickly. Shifting his eyes back to his niece, he nods. "Nathan was out of touch for a few days, but— he's back now. Everything's okay with him— and with me." Maybe not so much with some other people. "I'm not avoiding you, Claire. I've just— things have been busy." And maybe he'd been avoiding, but not on account of her so much as those who might be around her. Glancing back towards Drake, he finishes, "Had a lot to figure out."

"Yeah.. I know how that is." Drake says with a dip of his head, then offers a smile to Claire as he leans in, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Hey, we can.. do this another time if you want. I should let you two catch up. Maybe we can just get together tomorrow, and have lunch?" He offers, being rather polite, not wanting to ruin a family reunion. Blowing a strand of blonde from his face, he gives her hand another quick squeeze, then leans over to pick up his guitar from the bench, and slides it over his neck, and shoulder.

"Don't listen to him," Claire says to Drake, tipping her head in a gesture to her all too modest uncle. "He's a hero. He saved my life, once." She saved his, too, but she very conveniently doesn't mention that part. Modesty must be genetic. A smile graces her face at the kiss, but it's with some reluctance that she allows him to release her hand. "You don't have to go," she replies, swinging the rose to tap him on the shoulder in a jokingly admonishing way. This is a complicated situation for her, as she doesn't want to be the one to tell either of them to leave. With this in mind, she adds, "You helped get him out. You're a part of this, too."

The affection passing between them lightens Peter's expression quite a bit, though at the same time he's feeling a hint of guilt. Claire attacking his modesty with claims that he's a hero shifts his weight from side to side, and has him tug along his sleeve again. Instead of arguing on that point again, he just adds a modifier, "You saved my life, too." Her ability saved his life even more times than that. The important thing to avoid right now, though… "If you don't mind a third wheel of the family variety along, I can always explain what happened after— after Nathan saved New York." He didn't save New York, after all. "To both of you. You risked your life to break me out— least I owe you."

"Now all I gotta do is save both of your lives, and I think we'd all call it even." Drake says with amusement as he reaches out with an arm to wrap it about Claire's waist, leaning in to give her a strong hug. "Really though, I can get the story later, and gossip. I think you two really need this night to catch up, and what not. I already feel like a weird third wheel." He chuckles. "Not like it's a bad thing though. I'll call you later tonight, OK?" He asks, brushing his fingers down along her shoulder for a moment, before taking a step back and giving Peter a bit of a nod, respectfully.

The step back is negated as Claire reaches for Drake's coat, pulling him back to lay a quick kiss on his lips before he can desert her for the evening. It's a little less chaste than his peck on the cheek, but not by much. She's not trying to traumatize Peter, after all. Much as it saddens her to see him leave so soon, she flashes him a warm smile. "I'll be around." When she's watched him get half a block away from them, a faint frown descending upon her face, she turns back to Peter, the rose still in her hands. "I guess it's just you and me," she says, stating the… plainly obvious. "Want to go inside? Dad's out, not that it matters. I have my own room."

Well, it'd be more likely to traumatize him if he'd seen her growing up from a little blonde girl in pigtails to a beautiful teenager… But this would be how he first met her. Besides cosmetic differences, she's not that much different than their first meeting in the hallway of her high school in Odessa. It helps keep Peter from having to look away in horror at the smooching. Though he does look guilty, looking as if he'd like to protest to the leaving. Not quite fast enough… Looking back towards Claire, he nods, moving closer. "Yeah, we can go back to your hotel room to talk." As he moves to follow her to the hotel, he continues guiltily, "I'm really sorry about this. I should have called. It didn't even cross my mind you might have had plans tonight…"

"Don't worry about it," Claire says, sounding genuinely reassuring as she offers him a quick smile. Digging her hands into her pockets, the rose sticking out over the edge, she shrugs. "This is our fourth date this week or something. Besides, I think Dad might be glad to know I'm staying in so I can give his nerves a break." Leading him through the lobby of the hotel, which is an older building and nothing particularly fancy, she keeps herself from asking any questions in the hallway or the elevator, even if they're begging to come out. It's only once she's let him into her room - at which point she has to pick up her discarded outfits from the bed and shove them into the dresser awkwardly - that she exhales, turning back to face Peter. "What happened to you?"

Fourth date? That makes for a pretty serious boyfriend, from the sounds of things. Peter doesn't comment on that, but he does glance towards her, smiling faintly. The boy seemed nice— even if there's something hero worshippy that's going to be shattered once he realizes that he hadn't saved New York so much as nearly destroyed it. Hoping to avoid any odd looks for following a young teenage girl into her hotel room, he doesn't say a word until they arrive inside the room. A smile quirks at his lips as he sees the clothes on the bed, and he stands off to the side, not wanting to invade the privacy of his young niece. Until she asks the question. "Guess I'd have to start with last time you saw me, before this week…" Inhaling slowly, he glances towards the wall. "I wasn't able to stop it. Took everything in me to give you enough time… To give Nathan enough time. I made him drop me, made him let go, but not before— you saw how he looked, didn't you?" The guilt and pain returns in force. "The explosion knocked him out. I recovered in time to fly and catch him— get him to the hospital, but the damage…"

"I know," Claire says quietly, taking a seat on the bed as she listens attentively to Peter's story, her coat left in a pile on the armchair in the room. "I saw what happened to him." She watches him curiously, her expression one of guilt, at first. "I couldn't do it, Peter. I couldn't shoot you. When Hiro told me about Nathan, I couldn't just leave him like that. Not when it was my fault." Guilt and remorse seem to run in the Petrelli blood, as well. She raises a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling entirely too overdressed for such a discussion. Though she knows the inevitable answer to the question, she asks, "Where did you go?"

"It's not your fault, Claire," Peter says, shaking his head. Though he recognizes this similarity to his own feelings on the topic. The blame could fall on him, or anyone who knew about the bomb and had decided to let it happen. Moving over to the chair in the room, he settles down into it, rubbing his hand against his face in an emotional gesture. No tears to wipe away, but the motion remains. "I tried to leave. Couldn't answer the questions they'd have. How was I supposed to explain what happened to him— ?" They would have thought he was crazy… and have evidence from the media to make that believable. "Wanted to leave, get far away as possible. In case it happened again. That's when they found me. The Company. They— brought me in. Told me they could cure me." Considering what he'd nearly done— he can't imagine having wanted to keep the abilities. "Make it so I'd never hurt anyone like that again." Glancing back up at her, he again looks guilty. "And I agreed to stay there."

Kicking off her boots, now that she isn't going anywhere that she'll need them, Claire drops her gaze to her feet for a few seconds as she stretches her toes, considering what Peter tells her with that same look of vague remorse. "I can't believe you were there the whole time and I never knew," she murmurs, turning a guilty look back up to him then, as if she ought to have discovered him long before his escape. "Or that your girlfriend never told me." There's certainly some bitterness, there; the kind of disdain that doesn't develop overnight. She can't quite hide the questioning look in her eyes as she tiptoes around the subject of Elle, but she never voices the inquiry she desperately wants to. Instead, she asks, "Did she tell you I was there?"

From the way Peter sits up and blinks in surprise, he had no idea that she'd been there at all. "I wasn't— always in that building. They moved me once— " But that doesn't really matter, does it. The disdain for Elle might make him uncomfortable, but he's not really sure what happened there, or why she would have known, or why she was there at all… "Why were you there? You're not dangerous. I don't see why they would hold you there…" /Why/ was his niece there? He can understand why no one told him, Elle could barely risk telling him as much as she did, but— "Elle stopped visiting me after two months, and she only started again a week before the escape. I wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for her. She swapped my pills out— and convinced me that I didn't need to stay there— and when the rescue happened, when it failed, she's the one who set me free and told me to run away." And he knocked her out and kidnapped her.

"Because they kidnapped me," Claire explains, lowering her voice out of habit, despite knowing that she doesn't need to do any such thing. "I don't know what they wanted from me. They took my blood, and they did these /tests/, and Elle…" She scrunches her nose, teeth gritted as she remembers some of what Elle put her through. "She knocked me out a window, once. She came by just to torment me." Can you really blame her for feeling a teensy bit of hatred for the blonde electro-psychopath? The memories alone are enough to make the colour rise to her cheeks out of embarrassment or frustration or both, and she looks away from Peter then. "He went back," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, the sidelong glance she casts to Peter most certainly conflicted. "My father. He's working for them again."

They kidnapped her. Peter shakes his head, eyes closing shut, even as he hears what Elle did to her. Somehow it doesn't seem to surprise him, which probably doesn't make his niece feel any better about that. The first part he responds to would be to nod at word of her father. "I heard from Nathan. And— I'm sure he did it to protect you, but…" He's conflicted on them too. When he finally opens his eyes and glances back up, he chooses to address the topic of Elle. "She used to torment me too. She'd visit me every day— bring me my pills, my clothes and— shock me." How could he look at someone who did that the way he does? "Something changed. When she visited me again after being away— she brought me a picture of Nathan and told me he'd been healed. She stopped shocking me just to shock me. I'm not— asking— expecting you to forgive her for whatever she did to you— but she can become a better person than she was."

"That wouldn't be hard." Once you get past the string of circumstances that often cause Claire to act in ways well beyond her maturity level, it's occasionally obvious that she is still just a teenaged girl. A vindictive one. Her snippy remark about Elle? One of those obvious moments. She seems to regret it almost immediately, however, and she switches gears. "I know it sounds really bad, for him to go back, but you'd do the same thing, wouldn't you?" Claire watches him closely, her eyes searching his face for any hint of a reaction to her question. "If it would protect your family. I did. They told me if I left, they'd kill them. I had to stay." The memory seems to bother her some, and she draws her feet up onto the bed with her, moving back until she can settle her back against the headboard of the bed.

The vindictive teenage comment makes Peter's eyes drop, so he doesn't see any sign of regret. The short hair doesn't allow him to hide behind his bangs either, something he almost misses about this new haircut that Elle seems to like so much. What she says about her dad draws his eyes back up, they'd threatened to kill her family. That— He'd been torn on if they were good, bad, or just misguided, but there could be no reason to threaten the family of a teenage girl just to study her. They already had a test subject they could have used, and they'd never done more than a few minor tests, "What they did to you— Now I understand what— why I had to escape." What Elle meant, he'd been about to say. "But you're right. I would have gone back if they'd held Nathan and asked for an exchange." Taking a deep breath, he stands up. "I should be going soon. I said I wouldn't be gone long. We still don't know for sure if the Company is going to come after me. Nathan said they won't, but I'm not sure I trust their word."

The pieces are all there, but Claire won't be the one to put them together and make sense of the puzzle surrounding her involvement with the Company. Still, there's a sudden wave of relief that washes over her when Peter admits that he would do the same thing, and she lets out a breath, tipping her head back against the wall behind her. "I'm more worried about Sylar," she confesses after a slight hesitation, and in that one sentence, her voice betrays the fear she was hoping to hide. Absently, she rubs at her stomach with one hand, remembering the sword in her gut only a short few days before. "He won't stop looking for me." Looking back up to Peter, she manages a slight smile, at least; one of the first of the evening, since they came inside for this odd talk. "I guess that's one reason to be glad she helped you get out. So you could save me again."

Stepping over to the bed, Peter leans down to put his hand over hers and press his lips against her forehead. "I'm glad I was able to be there for you again," he says in a soft voice, eyes full of emotion before he squeezes her hand and straightens up. "I'm going to leave my number, so you can call me whenever. I'll either be at the Mansion, or my apartment, but I'll have the cellphone on me. If I need to change the number for any reason, I'll let you know." And to leave said number, he goes to the bedside table and finds the pad of paper and pen and writes it down. "If you need anything, even just for advice about boys, you can call me, okay?"

Allowing her eyes to drift closed at the kiss to her forehead, Claire smiles slightly. One day, she just might realize how lucky she is to have so many strong-willed people in her life who look out for her. Right now, she's simply glad that Peter isn't dead or lost any more. "I'll call," she assures him, sitting up a bit straighter to watch as he writes the number down. When he's finished, she takes the pen and writes her own number down on a new sheet, tearing it off and handing it to him. "I know I'm not a big hero like you," she says, a sly smirk gracing her face now as she adopts a more playful tone, "but just in case." She pushes up to her feet so as to lead him to the door, adding with the same mischievous intonation, "I forgive you for crashing my date."

The exchange of numbers seems to relieve him. Having a way to contact means a lot to him. Peter smiles at the mention of crashing her date, not looking smug, so much as sheepish. "Yeah— I'll try not to do that next time." Though, their next date might be filled with questions about her uncle, if the hero worship vibe had been anywhere near accurate… "I'll see you again soon." He says, moving towards the door, which he opens. Not quite stepping out yet, he adds back into the room, "Be safe, Claire." After that, the door closes behind him.

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