[he drags a hand over his face. oh the long suffering sighs.] You know what? Not the first time I've heard that.

[peter could fire back that she doesn't look like she's stepped out of the pages of a magazine, but it'd be... well, kind of untrue. though her clothes aren't fresh from the runways in milan, there's an obvious aesthetic there. almost pageant queen-like. without much stretching, he could see her practicing the perfect princess wave.

so rather than lob a weak insult, he nods in agreement to her follow up statement.] We're all kind of homeless if you think about it. I mean, I'm glad I'm not trapped somewhere being poked, probed, and prodded in the name of science or whatever reason.

[he grimaces, recalling that fateful day in new amsterdam when he'd first learned of the plight of the displaced.] But a safehouse isn't a home, no matter how much they try to pretty it up.

I'm gonna find out more now that I'm free to leave. Speaking of, why are you here on your birthday? No bars to hit up? Dancing?