[ Peter glances down at her outstretched hand for a second, almost puzzled, before it clicks.
Right.
The empathy thing.
He winces a little, the slightest twitch of his cheek, because the last time they did this, Mantis totally blurted out that thing he'd been trying to keep under wraps for weeks and weeks until he could get it handled. Admittedly, that hadn't been going well, but he was trying, which is the important thing.
But— well, there's no one else around but the two of them, so if she delves in and dredges up something he doesn't want her to, at least it'll just be between Peter and Mantis. (For however long that lasts.) And Mantis is still learning how the team thing works, and this is the most direct route, so—
So he lets out a slow breath, steeling himself despite the decision, and reaches out to meet her the rest of the way. ]
Alright. [ Like he's giving himself a pep talk. ] Okay. Here we go.
[ And he presses the palm of his hand against hers.
The first thing she'll feel is that anger, of course. Impatience and frustration and annoyance, rolling and flaring up in his chest. There's that bone-deep exhaustion, too, a hollowness that's stuck with him since— everything, deep and dark and cold. But beneath that— the fading dregs of worry and panic, both of which are slowly tempered by relief. Prickly and icy, a strange sort of vacuum that's fading with each passing second. ]
no subject
Right.
The empathy thing.
He winces a little, the slightest twitch of his cheek, because the last time they did this, Mantis totally blurted out that thing he'd been trying to keep under wraps for weeks and weeks until he could get it handled. Admittedly, that hadn't been going well, but he was trying, which is the important thing.
But— well, there's no one else around but the two of them, so if she delves in and dredges up something he doesn't want her to, at least it'll just be between Peter and Mantis. (For however long that lasts.) And Mantis is still learning how the team thing works, and this is the most direct route, so—
So he lets out a slow breath, steeling himself despite the decision, and reaches out to meet her the rest of the way. ]
Alright. [ Like he's giving himself a pep talk. ] Okay. Here we go.
[ And he presses the palm of his hand against hers.
The first thing she'll feel is that anger, of course. Impatience and frustration and annoyance, rolling and flaring up in his chest. There's that bone-deep exhaustion, too, a hollowness that's stuck with him since— everything, deep and dark and cold. But beneath that— the fading dregs of worry and panic, both of which are slowly tempered by relief. Prickly and icy, a strange sort of vacuum that's fading with each passing second. ]