"You sound like Peter," he told her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Not that that's a bad thing. He just -- he's the same way."
Of course, Peter was the type to jump in the middle of things, to actively help, but it was still the same concept. One he found he liked despite his contempt for hero-types up until recently. Funny what being trapped in your own head for years on end could do for your opinions on things. Funny what being saved by someone like that could do.
"I'm not sure I could do it." Not that he didn't want to -- there was something to be said about playing the good guy, the feeling that came with it as good as, if not better than, being the villain -- he just hadn't quite worked out how to be that person on his own. The few times he'd managed to save the day, he'd had someone behind him, pointing him in the right direction. Angela, as much as he still hated her, Peter at the carnival, and so on. He was directionless, possibly no better than the people he'd hunted for years, and now that he thought about it, it was almost frustrating. How the hell did Peter do it? He made a face at the thought.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-03-09 07:29 pm (UTC)Of course, Peter was the type to jump in the middle of things, to actively help, but it was still the same concept. One he found he liked despite his contempt for hero-types up until recently. Funny what being trapped in your own head for years on end could do for your opinions on things. Funny what being saved by someone like that could do.
"I'm not sure I could do it." Not that he didn't want to -- there was something to be said about playing the good guy, the feeling that came with it as good as, if not better than, being the villain -- he just hadn't quite worked out how to be that person on his own. The few times he'd managed to save the day, he'd had someone behind him, pointing him in the right direction. Angela, as much as he still hated her, Peter at the carnival, and so on. He was directionless, possibly no better than the people he'd hunted for years, and now that he thought about it, it was almost frustrating. How the hell did Peter do it? He made a face at the thought.