Pride and Principles(Peter)

[Peter Longfield]

Peter had been somewhat too young when he left home to really understand his parents’ interactions. Most of his friends were single. It had been somewhat startling for him to realize that older did not mean uninterested. Ingrid was the most ridiculously romantic person he knew. Perhaps she was living vicariously, but he thought she was really just a romantic busybody when it came to his own love life (or lack thereof recently). And she was rarely subtle about it. “That would require finding him again. I don’t know his name and the fact that I’ve never met him previously would indicate that he is not often at the institute.”

An apology would be somewhat awkward, but Peter never shirked admitting when he was wrong. The man could have been a bit less…enthusiastic when entering the lounge, but Peter had been in a hurry himself before. And he could have been a bit more patient. Despite the near loss of his hot chocolate. The cooing hadn’t bothered him, but it would make another meeting even more awkward. He wouldn’t hide what he could do, it was a part of who he was. And as much time as he spent in animal form, it would be quite difficult to hide it from anyone who spent much time with him. Anyway, if cooing bothered him, he wouldn’t spend nearly as much time with Ingrid. Because even she wasn’t immune to his furry forms.

“I find it unlikely that I’ll see him again. My so called charm is a moot point.” And Peter was self aware enough to know that charming he was not. Intelligent, yes. Cute, according to some. Introvert, definitely. Charming? Not so much. Ingrid was biased. But it didn’t matter. He would likely not see The Stranger again. More’s the pity. “I’m not actively seeking such complications in my life right now anyway. I tilled over the garden last weekend. Time for winter vegetables. This week is ideal for plating according to the almanac.” Perhaps he could get her off the subject of men.

[Ingrid Barnes]

Ingrid threw him a flat look. "You've told me you met a man. Whom you think is cute. And you don't know his name." She paused, shaking her head. "I thought you knew me better then that Peter. I'm going to find out who this man is, just you wait and see." Her words held conviction, hell or high water, she'd find out. The poor man should be on the lookout, Ingrid was on a manhunt.

She made a tsching noise at him, waging her index finger in his face. "You're plenty charming. Back when I was young, girls would faint dead away to get such a polite gentlemen. Granted you're after a man, not a helpless schoolgirl. But the comparison still stands." Ingrid was not only aware that her statements were rant induced and didn't make much sense, she also didn't care.

"A garden doesn't mean you can't get a boyfriend dearest." She grumbled, but let him change the subject anyway. Ingrid had plenty of time to torture Peter over his love life and she'd already put her mind to setting him up with this stranger. And she actually liked his gardening anyway. It meant she could weasel some fresh vegetables from him.

"What did you plant?" She asked, ready to rattle off recipes for him to try. And ready to give her 'old person' advice on growing, though by now Peter must have heard it all a dozen times. "I didn't even think to pick up and almanac this year." She never got one. Usually, if Ingrid was gardening, she would go by feel or just get someone else to tell her.