the last time peter smoked was with lucy on a job in san francisco. he had been napping one afternoon in the hostel, only to be shaken awake by lucy who shook a little baggie of weed in his face and asked if he wanted to smoke. he said no in a gruff tone, then she asked if he wanted roll one for her instead then. he still said no, but then lucy was lucy and was sweet and warm and she slid beside him under the covers, casually telling him how she procured the weed from the hostel manager blah blah blah, peter couldn't remember. because in-between, lucy kissed him and touched him into compliance and suddenly peter was rolling her a joint and, well, he was putting all this effort in so he might as well smoke it now. fuck it. which was probably what lucy planned all along.
he has never been able to deny his sisters anything.
"because," corin is saying, on the verge of losing his brain-to-mouth filter, "why 34? why 34 degrees? doesn't that seem like an arbitrary number?"
"32," edmund squeaks, trying to speak and hold his breath at the same time. he passes the joint to peter. "it's 32 degrees, freezing point."
"yeah whatever," corin cries out. "water freezes at 0 degrees, boils at 100, tell me why this isn't good enough for the americans. what is with the american grudge against the metric system?"
"corin, my man," says edmund, "i hate to break it to you, but you're american."
"i mean," he says helplessly, shrugging. "i guess."
the weed has a sweet smell in the philippines, a little bit like cloves. peter's windpipe burns with every inhale and he chases it with beer just for the psychosomatic effect. "it's done," he croaks, and edmund and corin look at him with bloodshot half-lidded eyes, and peter holds up the roach for proof.
"yoooouuuu," says corin, "wanna smoke another?"
"corin, i suspect i am physically unable to do anything except drink my beer."
"yeah," corin replies, "but. do you wanna smoke another?"
peter considers this. then he says, "yeah okay."
+
when susan finally emerges from the bathroom, caspian looks her up and down and concludes, "you look hot."
"i know," susan says simply.
"but, uh." he gestures vaguely at her ears and the silver & ruby earrings that adorn them. "you sure you wanna wear those? tonight?"
her gaze is as unflinching as her voice. "yes. i'm sure."
no subject
he has never been able to deny his sisters anything.
"because," corin is saying, on the verge of losing his brain-to-mouth filter, "why 34? why 34 degrees? doesn't that seem like an arbitrary number?"
"32," edmund squeaks, trying to speak and hold his breath at the same time. he passes the joint to peter. "it's 32 degrees, freezing point."
"yeah whatever," corin cries out. "water freezes at 0 degrees, boils at 100, tell me why this isn't good enough for the americans. what is with the american grudge against the metric system?"
"corin, my man," says edmund, "i hate to break it to you, but you're american."
"i mean," he says helplessly, shrugging. "i guess."
the weed has a sweet smell in the philippines, a little bit like cloves. peter's windpipe burns with every inhale and he chases it with beer just for the psychosomatic effect. "it's done," he croaks, and edmund and corin look at him with bloodshot half-lidded eyes, and peter holds up the roach for proof.
"yoooouuuu," says corin, "wanna smoke another?"
"corin, i suspect i am physically unable to do anything except drink my beer."
"yeah," corin replies, "but. do you wanna smoke another?"
peter considers this. then he says, "yeah okay."
+
when susan finally emerges from the bathroom, caspian looks her up and down and concludes, "you look hot."
"i know," susan says simply.
"but, uh." he gestures vaguely at her ears and the silver & ruby earrings that adorn them. "you sure you wanna wear those? tonight?"
her gaze is as unflinching as her voice. "yes. i'm sure."