tooprettytodie | For Peter: Dated Sunday November 25th

Valkyrie was glad that she didn't have to hound Peter too much to make sure that he showed up for the picnic. She tried to make sure that she was understanding of his schedule and didn't assume every time he said a certain time wasn't good for him he was just making up excuses. In the end, they settled for a Sunday afternoon not all that far from the Compound.

It wasn't anything fancy, mostly just leftovers from whatever meal was cooked a few days ago with a lot of fruit and vegetables. An exciting meal wasn't the point, the point was to give Peter a reason to get cleaned up to have human contact with someone. Valkyrie hoped that after she saw him he'd start to pick himself back together at least a little bit. The guy lost his wife, so she wasn't expecting a miracle, but hopefully knowing someone cared about him enough to check up had helped.

So, with warmed up boar burgers and some side dishes, Valkyrie waited for Peter to show up. She'd give him five minutes past the agreed upon time to show up before she started hunting him down. If it came to that, she would find him.

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"....why?" I ask, then quickly clarify. "Not the last thing, the first thing, the wanting me to stay thing. I'll tone down the jerkiness, I just. I really don't get it, I'm sorry."

I'm saying that a lot. Sorry. It used to be my favorite word. Kinda fell out of favor, recently, but maybe it's making a surprise comeback. Because I actually mean it. I am sorry that I'm apparently such a failure of a human being that I can't handle someone being nice to me for no reason without finding it suspect. I press two fingers to my forehead and smooth out the furrow in my brow, swallowing back some emotion I'd rather not name, let alone deal with. I let out a slow, shaky breath.

"God, I'm a mess."

"Because it doesn't really cost me anything to be nice. And no one should go around without anyone checking up on them to make sure they're okay, letting know they care about how they're doing. I guess, maybe, because I can," she finally said with a shrug.

It was more selfless than she was used to, but she'd been trying to be a better person. She had, unintentionally surrounded herself with people who were good at being selfless. Jessica, Stephanie, Percy, Bella... they were all such good, helpful people.

"I can do this nice thing, so I should. I can't check up on everyone on the island, but I can check up on one guy I came across that looked like he needed someone to care about him. So I did."

"I have people," I say, looking up through my fingers. "I have-- A best friend who fell off the wagon when his girlfriend-slash-my-other-best-friend disappeared in September who I have no idea how to talk to at the moment. And a friend whose response to my wife disappearing was an incredulous, 'again?!' And a couple other ones who went insane on Halloween. And one I haven't seen in a while." A beat. "And Captain America, who's kinda busy."

I shrug and give a pitiful smile. "Lots of people."

She wasn't sure just how great his people were if they didn't check up on him, but maybe they knew that he needed time or something and she was just pushy. Well, she would just be pushy until she knew better.

"And now you've got another one. Who likes picnics."

"Yeah," I say, still a little disbelieving. I need someone I can talk to, is the thing, and while Valkyrie might be pushy with her picnics, she's not someone I'm about to unload on -- not with the kind of baggage I'm lugging around.

I need Mary Jane.

But barring that, having a reminder to eat every once in a while isn't going to kill me.

"You know, we should really eat this before it gets cold."

"They definitely do taste better that way," Valkyrie agreed, switching the topic of conversation away from his friends on the island. If it was someone she knew well, she'd definitely pressure them to share a bit more, but even she knew that wasn't her place here.

"So what foods do you miss from home?" she asked before taking a bite of hers.

"Anything that's greasy and comes in a cardboard box."

And my Aunt May's cooking, but I don't really want to get into that. Instead I take my first bite of the by-now lukewarm burger and force myself to chew before swallowing. It doesn't taste the greatest -- burgers don't keep especially well -- but now that I've done through the ever important first bite, eating the rest of it doesn't seem like quite the chore it was a few seconds ago.

Actually, I realize just how hungry I am.

"What about you?" I ask around my second mouthful.

"Some of the traditional holiday, Irish things. Nothing I'm really keen on that I can't get here though."

She certainly missed some of her mum's old standbys, but she was sure pretty much everyone missed that sort of thing. She wasn't particularly fond of fast food or anything like that, although she could see how it would be miserable here food-wise if you did. Although...

"And pizza. I miss pizza."

"Pizza!" I throw my arms in mock anguish.

Adopting a vaguely Italian accent, I add, "What I would not give for a real New York pizza pie."

"Not really a big deal in Ireland," Valkyrie admitted, throwing up her hands in... mocking mock anguish.

"At least, not New York pizza. We're a little closer to, you know... Italy."

For Peter: Dated Sunday November 25th

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