Peter half-listened as they explained what poison he and his family had had inflicted upon them, but the name escaped his mind the second it was said. It wasn't something he had heard before and then Lucian had gone on to explain that it wasn't a substance, it was a mixture of substances. This was the reason it had taken so long to pinpoint exactly what it was. For some reason, that got Peter's intention. "You mean...someone had to mix it up?"

Well Hell )
Peter half-listened as they explained what poison he and his family had had inflicted upon them, but the name escaped his mind the second it was said. It wasn't something he had heard before and then Lucian had gone on to explain that it wasn't a substance, it was a mixture of substances. This was the reason it had taken so long to pinpoint exactly what it was. For some reason, that got Peter's intention. "You mean...someone had to mix it up?"

Well Hell )
Her father had died again.

Lydia wondered if he would ever cut that out. Probably not, considering who he was. But each time she had to hear about it, it scared her. Sure, he was still with them. But how many times before he just let go? How many times before the pain was too much? How many times before he left her for good?

When she caught sight of him on the bed, looking rather annoyed, she ran forward towards him. "Dad!" She jumped up beside him before anyone could stop her, though Peter was hardly going to do such a thing. His arms were around her before she even realised it. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Mmm. Sure. I...thunk I...Think. I think I'm drink..."

"He means drunk," Deirdre elaborated from the corner. "He's still drunk. He swallowed a lot of the stuff..."

Peter giggled, but he hugged Lydia close. "Not on porpoise. It wasn't on porpoise."

Lydia shook her head. "Tasha is still going to kick your arse."

"Oh no!" Peter looked quite worried then, and he stole the cold end of the stethoscope away from Dr Wentworth who had been about to listen to Peter's chest. "I'm in trouble!" Peter whispered into it, leading Lucian to rip the stethoscope out of his ears and glare at Peter. Deirdre and Lydia giggled.
Her father had died again.

Lydia wondered if he would ever cut that out. Probably not, considering who he was. But each time she had to hear about it, it scared her. Sure, he was still with them. But how many times before he just let go? How many times before the pain was too much? How many times before he left her for good?

When she caught sight of him on the bed, looking rather annoyed, she ran forward towards him. "Dad!" She jumped up beside him before anyone could stop her, though Peter was hardly going to do such a thing. His arms were around her before she even realised it. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Mmm. Sure. I...thunk I...Think. I think I'm drink..."

"He means drunk," Deirdre elaborated from the corner. "He's still drunk. He swallowed a lot of the stuff..."

Peter giggled, but he hugged Lydia close. "Not on porpoise. It wasn't on porpoise."

Lydia shook her head. "Tasha is still going to kick your arse."

"Oh no!" Peter looked quite worried then, and he stole the cold end of the stethoscope away from Dr Wentworth who had been about to listen to Peter's chest. "I'm in trouble!" Peter whispered into it, leading Lucian to rip the stethoscope out of his ears and glare at Peter. Deirdre and Lydia giggled.
Life in the Kemp household had not been entirely pleasant of late. Peter was mourning the loss of his best friend, and he was doing his best to work through it to be there for his family. Because even while he grieved, Aly was also grieving. And the way things were, she seemed worse off than he was. Peter was doing most of the work at home, which he certainly didn't mind, though it gave him little time to help Aly let alone himself.

Infected )
Life in the Kemp household had not been entirely pleasant of late. Peter was mourning the loss of his best friend, and he was doing his best to work through it to be there for his family. Because even while he grieved, Aly was also grieving. And the way things were, she seemed worse off than he was. Peter was doing most of the work at home, which he certainly didn't mind, though it gave him little time to help Aly let alone himself.

Infected )

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Darker London

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