Darker London-Uncover what is underneath...

Peter stepped out of the shower and he toweled his hair off. He looked at himself in the mirror and he frowned. He looked far too grave and he hated it. He hated feeling this way, and he hated disappointing everyone he loved. He'd fallen to the drink again the night before and he hated it, but he'd felt so guilty for upsetting Spectre on his journal. He was nicer when he drank, so he drank. And now he was staring at himself in the mirror, chock full of guilt.

( And leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands. Love lies bleeding... )

Father Peter Kemp sighed as he looked over the paperwork that was destined to keep him busy for several days. He was supposed to be grading work from the Abbey School as well. No matter. Somehow, it would all get done in the end.

Just as he set his pen to the paper, one of the other English parish priests leaned into his office. If you could call it that.

"Peter. There's a call for you. Says she's your niece? Should I bring you the phone in here, then?"

Peter nodded, putting his pen down softly. He knew it wasn't his niece. He didn't have a niece. He took the phone that was being handed to him, his soft soothing voice forming the words, "thank you, Charles." He pulled the phone as far into the room as the cord would allow and then he shut the door.

"Hello, Sweetheart. How are you?"

There was deep breathing on the other end of the line and then, "Good. How are you?"

( It tore at his heart that he had to hide her )

Peter Kemp did not understand cricket. In fact, he kind of thought it was rather dull and he didn't understand why people got so worked up about it. Still, it was the only thing he could get reception for on the telly in the guest house and it was that or go face his incredibly angry sister. And as she was having a particularly bad week anyway, Peter decided he'd just watch the cricket and deal. He was nursing a beer, which seemed to help. Cricket made more sense when it was slightly fuzzy.

( Oh, so THAT'S a bad trip.... )

Peter had arrived at Katherine's house early because he was so eager to take her out again. Of course, when he arrived there, Katherine was not home. Peter was forced to sit on the steps leading to her house like a complete tool. And that's what several people called him as they walked by. One even added 'haha locked yourself out of your house, Tool?' before continuing on his way. Peter thought people were mean.

( The One Where Peter is Kindof a Tool Anyway )

Peter had given Katherine several days to cool off after their last fight. He'd regretted everything he'd said almost instantly, but he couldn't take them back. He could only make up for them. Once his sister left him alone long enough for him to get away from the house that is. She was always knocking on the door of the guest house, but if she was so determined not to talk to him before, Peter was even more determined not to talk to her now. He did NOT want her to be able to say she'd been right about Katherine all along. Because she wasn't. The whole fight had been Peter's fault. Clearly. Or so he believed because he didn't know any better.

( True Colours )

Peter found that hiding away in his guest house wasn't always the most pleasent thing. He didn't know how to cook anything, and the thought of ordering out for three meals a day seemed a bit exessive. In the end, he tended to order out every other day and munch on it a little bit at a time, which was probably intensely unhealthy but then again so was talking to Liz when she was in a mood. And she still was. When Peter had gone to the main part of the house to see if he had any mail, Liz had slammed the door in his face despite the fact that the house did belong to the both of them. Peter hadn't liked that very much. Now he was sulking in the guest house, ignoring his grumbling stomach and wishing he had someone to talk to.

( Not so much talking as screaming... )