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[sub]Interacting With: Everyone
Location: Room → Basement[/sub]
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Late, sure. But time is objective. Subjective. One of those terms.

Stepping out of a fresh shower and seeing the time strike 8:20 am, well, Peter making it in time meant forgoing a lot of routine. Unfortunately, Peter didn't shy away from routine. He wouldn't be that kind of guy. He wouldn't forgo a nice breakfast if the consequence meant getting yelled at, either. Important or not, breakfast surmised a hefty portion of his diet - a diet that required strict routine. And, well, like it'd been stated many times before: Peter didn't break routine. Of course, he'd have to shift things over if this 8:30 thing became a regular occurrence, that he didn't find a problem. It was just not knowing yet that caused him to flit about with indifference rather than haste.

Taking the trek one step at a time, Peter ventured into the institute's spacious kitchen. He shoved a poptart retrieved from the cupboard into his mouth and made his way toward the basement's entrance. Of course, there was being obstinate and then there was being cantankerous. Peter didn't prefer the latter over the former and many knew that, so many expected him to do things with whatever air of whatever mood he'd been in and stare down a barrel of a gun with narrowed eyes. He wouldn't, however, put that gun in the mouth and proceed to taunt the offender.

He'd have to be drunk or high to do something like that.

So, it came as no surprise that the moment he moved through the basement's passages did he find himself at the end of yet another scolding shout. Or, well - Peter poked his head through the doorway, poptart half eaten in his mouth. He spotted numerous folks inside, displaying what they had and mingling among each other. And, what he thought had been directed at him, had actually been directed at Sophie, that quiet girl who rarely left her room on this very floor. Peter hitched a brow before sauntering in, knowing full well he'd be seen by Professor Latour. He waited by the doorway, away from the crowd of bystanders in order to await any scolding he'd get for his - he checked his watch - ten minutes of utter lateness. Peter would groan, but that would just grab more unneeded ire.

If the fact that the word 'vibrate' wasn't so literal with him, he'd describe himself as vibrating with anticipation. The idea of what lay ahead didn't sit well with Peter, but what may hide behind that? Well, that was worth getting excited over.

He gave a small wave to those away from him, hoping to at least quell some of that energy as he finished off his lovely breakfast. Was he the last to arrive? God, he hoped not. That'd be extremely embarrassing. There goes trying to keep eyes everywhere but on him.