Some Hideout... Somewhere on Fandom, Monday Morning

[lockestheway]

So Sunday had gone roughly like this:

Seethe. Seethe. Seethe. Quick thi-- "WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! ... Topher, you idiot!"

And then silence.

That had been at least twelve hours ago by now, though, and to say that Peter was feeling a little cranky about being tied to this chair for twelve hours a week after he was supposed to return to Haiti for

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[dollpocalypse]

Topher hadn't run here as soon as he'd realized that Peter was probably still tied up, or anything. Actually he'd hoped that maybe one of the squirrels would take care of it, or that he could ask someone else to do it... but he didn't actually know anyone that he might want to ask, right now.

So he came himself, and very consciously didn't make eye contact with Peter as he slipped inside and went to undo the ropes. Didn't say anything, either. Talking seemed like a lot of effort, and how could it be worth it anyway?

[lockestheway]

Peter's expression was definitely stuck on affronted, and while he picked up that Topher had some distress going on here... well, he was busy being affronted, okay?

"Trust you to be useless at everything but tying knots," he bitched.

[dollpocalypse]

"Researched it," Topher mumbled, almost unintelligibly if you weren't used to Topher-mumble. "Back there, I mean."

Why wouldn't these knots come undone any faster? He just wanted to get out of here.

[lockestheway]

"What was that?" Peter asked.

Look, sorry, Topher. He just had some important feeling-sorry-for-himself in combination with attending-meetings to get back to and oh god what was that look on your face?