Author's Note: ::succumbs to Artoni's jedi-mind powers and posts another chapter of the fic:: Heh... Well, I'm running out of things to write in these notes... so I'll just say read and review. Please review. This is my favorite chapter we've done so far, and I'll cry a lot if you don't. ;-;
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"Yeah, that's right Mr. Osborn." Peter smiled at his elder, nodding his head as if to affirm what Norman Osborn had said. It had been two days since Harry had first brought him to this office. And, in those two days, Peter had been making slow progress with the former CEO of Oscorp. Harry was at work, as Peter had expected, and now he was alone with his former nemesis, something that made him more than a little uncomfortable.
"So... do you remember when you found out about the deaths of the board members?"
The elder man furrowed his brow as he considered the question. Truth be told, he remembered very little. Sure, he remembered who the president was and what year it was but the little, more personal things - like the names of the former board members of Oscorp or what year he had gotten married in - were evading him. It was as though he was trying to grab a fistful of water and hold on to it. And it was annoying him to no end.
"I... I remember there being something in the paper..." he managed finally, after several moments of contemplation. "The... Daily Bugle...? Is that right?"
"Yes! Yes, that's absolutely right!" Peter sighed softly, eyes drifting around the room for a moment. What else could he do to spur the man's memory without bringing up the Green Goblin? A frown found it's way to his face for a moment. He had been purposely avoiding that topic, but it was proving to be more difficult to help Norman Osborn remember anything. But still, Peter kept to his tactic.
"Do you remember what the paper said?"
"No," Norman responded, shaking his head in frustration.
Peter held his breath. * Now what, * his mind questioned in a sarcastic voice. That was a good question, he had to admit to himself. What -did- he do now? Pushing him forward could result in two things, one of which was very bad. There was no way he wanted to stir any of the memories of that 'Green Meanie', as he remembered someone in the office saying. However, the death of the board members was a major part of Norman Osborn's life.
"They were murdered." It was a simple statement, one which Peter hoped would explain enough for the frustrated man in front of him to accept.
"Murdered?"
Jesus. His entire board had died - killed in cold blood - and he couldn't even remember it? His breath caught in his throat at the thought. Was that what had happened to him too? Had someone tried to kill him? Had they almost succeeded? Is that why Harry had told him they had found him covered in dirt two days earlier? And was whoever had murdered his board still out there? Would they come for him again, now that he couldn't remember enough about his own personal life to identify them if they did?
Molten fear poured down into his stomach like hot lead. And as he realized that he had been holding his breath, the older of the two let it out in a single rush of hot air, as though he had been punched in the chest. Allowing the searing sensation settle and cool in the pit of his lower abdomen, he asked quietly, "Did they find out who did it?"
Peter shook his head slowly. "No... the murdering stopped and whoever it was got away. The police had no idea who it was." But he did. "You shouldn't worry about it though, Mr. Osborn. The murderer never made an attempt on your life." And Peter knew exactly why. The only reason he was even in this room was to help Harry. Under any other circumstances, the super hero was certain he would have captured and turned the villain in by now.
"So how about it? Is any of this coming back to you?"
Somewhat relieved by Peter's news that whoever had murdered his board had never come for him, he furrowed his brow, attempting to grasp at the broken shards of his past. And for the first time since he and the younger man had started the long walk back to remembering his life, something came to Osborn without being prompted.
"Oscorp was supposed to be sold, wasn't it?"
"Umm... yes sir." Norman's nearly prompt answer had surprised him, to say the least. They were making a considerable amount of progress today, something that pleased Peter greatly. The chocolate-haired youth leaned forward slightly, eyes focused solely on his elder and previous idol. Yes, it was true, though those days seemed long ago. When Peter had first met Norman Osborn, he had held the utmost respect for the man and his works. His papers were insightful and his research was so advanced even the blue-eyed genius had trouble understanding it at times. But then Norman had started to change. He became distant and cold. The Thanksgiving catastrophe had been the final blow to their falling out, and, when Peter, or rather, Spiderman, had discovered that Osborn was his Emerald Nemesis all along, all his respect for his elder was lost, an undying resent replacing it. He'd always been against hating, anyone or anything, a belief that had been taught to him at an early age by his Aunt and Uncle. But that didn't change the fact that Osborn had tried to take everything dear to him away. On more than one occasion, Peter had sworn he hated the Green Goblin and everything he was. And the fact that there were times, at night, Peter still had nightmares with his maniacal laughter running rampant throughout it didn't help any.
"Do you remember why they were going to sell it?" A frown replaced his smile as he continued to ask questions, ocean-blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"No... But it was supposed to go to... to Quest Aerodynamics..." His statement was more a question than an answer.
"That's right." Peter watched him suspiciously, a little unsure why it was that Osborn was recalling all these little details so quickly. Only a two days ago, he was having trouble remembering Oscorp itself. Had his one statement really spurred on a rush of memories? The wall crawler wasn't really sure about that.
"They were recapitalizing quickly, and the board had accepted an offer from Quest to buy the company. Shortly there after, at the Unity festival, they were killed." He'd hoped that was all correct. He couldn't really remember what Harry had told him about the situation and the details he had received were vague at best. He'd had to piece the story together on his own.
Norman nodded silently, trying to place the pieces Peter had helped him with into the jig-saw puzzle his mind had become. Leaning back in his desk chair, he sighed inwardly. Ok, so he had been CEO of Oscorp, somehow Quest had found a way to recapitalize and it had forced his company to sell. He had agreed - or maybe argued against it, he couldn't remember - and Oscorp went to Quest. But it didn't last long, because his board had been slaughtered. The older Osborn frowned. For the most part it made sense, but there were still things missing. Like if his company had gone to Quest, why was Harry in charge of it now? And what had caused Quest to be able to recapitalize? It had to have been something drastic, that was for sure, but what it was still evaded him. In essence, there was a picture starting to form in the jumble of half remembered memories, but nothing clear. Not yet anyway.
With another sigh, this one out loud, Osborn opened his mouth to ask a question about Quest only to be stopped by a flicker of recognition on the edges of his mind. His expression turning thoughtful, he attempted to chase whatever shard of his memory had tried to surface and for a moment he caught it. An echo of a voice, feral and long lost to him filled his mind.
* Did you think it was coincidence? So many good things all happening for you... all for you, Norman... *
A chill ran down his spine. What the hell was that?
"Something wrong?" Peter was no fool. True, he wasn't the most social person you could meet on a daily basis, but he observed people like the best of them. Osborn's sigh had been brushed aside as nothing more than a release of stress and frustration. His expression and the look in his eyes, however, did not go unnoticed by Peter. His whole body stiffened as he waited for a response, trying desperately to search Osborn's eyes with his own.
"No..." he responded, half to the voice that had bubbled up inside of him and half to his companion. His own limbs tensing, Norman was silent for a moment, praying the voice would not return. And after several seconds of mental silence, his winter-gray eyes met Peter's. "No, he repeated, with more certainty this time. "I'm fine. Just trying to piece things together.
"...Would you mind if we quit for today, Peter?"
Exhaling softly, Peter shook his head, body loosening slightly as he sat back in his chair. "No, of course not Mr. Osborn." For that moment, as he had sat with batted breath, he'd felt a shiver run up his spine. He'd been frightened, more so than his outward appearance had let on, and had almost believed he'd seen that crazed look in Norman's eyes that had been there not too long ago.
"Do you want me to call Harry?"
"Only if you can convince him to let me go home," Osborn responded, allowing himself to relax as he saw Peter do.
Since his son had found him in his former office two days ago, Harry had forced him to stay put and keep the door closed, only letting it open to let Peter in or to bring his father food. For the first morning, Norman had been fine with it, terrified of seeing anyone but the two college-aged boys. After that, however, it had gotten old quickly. And the older man had been trying to convince his son to let him get reacquainted with the outside world since dinner the previous night. He had been having little luck, though - Harry seemed adamant about keeping his father under lock and key.
"That could prove difficult." Peter responded, chuckling softly at Osborn's statement. Harry was stubborn, that Peter knew well. In fact, Peter would venture to say he was as, if not more, stubborn than his father.
"I could try though." He stood, reaching into his pocket for the cell phone his roommate had provided him with. It was hard not to envy Harry at times. Dialing the number he now had memorized, Peter turned his back to the elder man, waiting for the other Osborn to answer. Why he was doing this, he didn't know. In all honesty, it was probably a good idea to keep Norman locked up. It would prevent anything from triggering memories regarding the villain that had taken hold of the man's will, his very soul.
Two rings later, Harry had answered his cell phone. "Hello?" he asked, the sounds of a busy office in the background making it hard to him.
"Harry, it's me, Peter." The brunette glanced at Osborn quickly, sighing lightly into the phone. "We're done here, so how about we all go to home for some nice take-out?"
The younger Osborn frowned, despite the fact that he knew his friend wouldn't see his sour expression. Peter knew that he didn't want to take his father out in public, for fear of someone seeing the older man and wondering how he was walking the streets when he was supposed to be dead. It had the potential to raise unwanted questions if the wrong person - such as the man his best friend called boss - saw his father. And unwanted questions always lead to the involvement of the police, which is something Harry didn't want. Especially considering they would probably ship his father off to somewhere far away if the police were involved.
"I could pick something up and bring it up there," he suggested instead.
Peter cursed mentally. He should have known better than to believe Harry would agree so easily. He didn't answer for a moment, contemplating a way to try and get the other boy to agree with him.
"Gee Harry, you sound kind of busy..." A grin started to spread across Peter's face, a plan taking form in the back of his mind as he listened to the noise from the office. "Things a little busy down there?"
"Yeah. Something big just happened - there's an emergency board meeting in fifteen minutes," he muttered, pausing for a moment to let the noise of the office filter from his side of the line into Peter's ear. Then quickly he added, "But I've still got time to go pick up dinner if you and dad're hungry. Chinese maybe?"
"I dunno Harry... an emergency board meeting. Should you really be out running around when you've got that in only a few minutes?" Peter frowned, trying desperately to keep his voice persuasive. "Why don't you just let me run to get some food and I'll be back in no time. Then you don't have to worry about anything but your meeting and your dad and I can get some fresh air. We'll be back in no time and I promise no one will see him."
Harry sighed loudly into the phone. "Alright Pete," the younger Osborn answered finally, a silent 'but if anyone -does- see him, I'll never forgive you,' passing through the pause between the two boys that followed.
Peter's grin widened and he turned around, flashing a thumbs up to Norman and mouthing 'We're clear' before remembering he was still on the phone. "Thanks Harry. You know, you're the reason parents love their kids so much. Really you are."
"Uh-huh," Harry answered glumly, running a hand through his rusty tresses. This seemed like a bad idea to him, despite Peter's reassurance, but he had given already given in and he didn't have time to start arguing the point again. Like so many times in his life, he had to trust his best friend's word... and while that was usually easy, today it simply wasn't.
Offering another sigh, he said, "Look Pete, I've gotta go. Talk to you later, ok?"
"Oh yeah! Sorry about that. Well I'll talk to you later then. See you, Harry." Hanging up quickly, smile still on his face, Peter turned to Osborn. "Well, I've done the impossible. Harry said we could go out to get some Chinese, but I've got to make sure no one sees you, sir." He tapped his index finger to his chin steadily, very proud with himself.
"Guess we'll have to disguise you, sir."
The thought of having to be disguised to walk around in public didn't appeal to Osborn in the least, but at least it was better than being cooped up in his office for another night. And so, arching his eyebrows, he stood up slowly and glanced around the room for something suitable to use as a disguise. "Any ideas?"
Where was a sheet when you needed one? Smirking lightly at the thought, Peter took off his jacket, handing it to Norman before taking one last look around the room. "Well... you can use my jacket. And... hold on just a second, Mr. Osborn." Making his way to the door, the hero slipped out quickly and made his way down the empty halls. The only people that ever came to this floor were himself, Harry and an occasional custodial worker who swept the floor. This was exactly who Peter was looking for.
"Come on Steve... where are you?" He muttered to himself, rounding a corner. Spotting the janitor's cart, Peter sped up his pace, only to find the man asleep in a chair. The aspiring journalist watched Steve nervously for a few minutes before slowly taking his hat. With the item firmly in his grasp, Peter made a mad dash for Norman's office, leaning on the back of the door after he'd entered. "Got you a hat too."
"Thanks, Peter," the elder man replied pleasantly, already wearing Peter's jacket. Reaching for the hat, he threw it over his auburn-locks, pushing as much of his hair as he could under the dirty cap in an attempt to look even less like himself. Then, zipping up the jacket and stuffing his hands into his pockets, he glanced at Peter feeling considerably self-conscious of his appearance.
"So? What do you think?"
"Mr. Osborn, you look like me." Peter stated, genuine smile appearing on his face. "Not that that's a bad thing." He moved toward the door, hand outstretched for the knob, ready to turn it. "Let's go get some food."
Smiling for the first time since he had come back from the grave, Osborn motioned towards the door. "After you."
---------------------------------------------------
"Yeah, that's right Mr. Osborn." Peter smiled at his elder, nodding his head as if to affirm what Norman Osborn had said. It had been two days since Harry had first brought him to this office. And, in those two days, Peter had been making slow progress with the former CEO of Oscorp. Harry was at work, as Peter had expected, and now he was alone with his former nemesis, something that made him more than a little uncomfortable.
"So... do you remember when you found out about the deaths of the board members?"
The elder man furrowed his brow as he considered the question. Truth be told, he remembered very little. Sure, he remembered who the president was and what year it was but the little, more personal things - like the names of the former board members of Oscorp or what year he had gotten married in - were evading him. It was as though he was trying to grab a fistful of water and hold on to it. And it was annoying him to no end.
"I... I remember there being something in the paper..." he managed finally, after several moments of contemplation. "The... Daily Bugle...? Is that right?"
"Yes! Yes, that's absolutely right!" Peter sighed softly, eyes drifting around the room for a moment. What else could he do to spur the man's memory without bringing up the Green Goblin? A frown found it's way to his face for a moment. He had been purposely avoiding that topic, but it was proving to be more difficult to help Norman Osborn remember anything. But still, Peter kept to his tactic.
"Do you remember what the paper said?"
"No," Norman responded, shaking his head in frustration.
Peter held his breath. * Now what, * his mind questioned in a sarcastic voice. That was a good question, he had to admit to himself. What -did- he do now? Pushing him forward could result in two things, one of which was very bad. There was no way he wanted to stir any of the memories of that 'Green Meanie', as he remembered someone in the office saying. However, the death of the board members was a major part of Norman Osborn's life.
"They were murdered." It was a simple statement, one which Peter hoped would explain enough for the frustrated man in front of him to accept.
"Murdered?"
Jesus. His entire board had died - killed in cold blood - and he couldn't even remember it? His breath caught in his throat at the thought. Was that what had happened to him too? Had someone tried to kill him? Had they almost succeeded? Is that why Harry had told him they had found him covered in dirt two days earlier? And was whoever had murdered his board still out there? Would they come for him again, now that he couldn't remember enough about his own personal life to identify them if they did?
Molten fear poured down into his stomach like hot lead. And as he realized that he had been holding his breath, the older of the two let it out in a single rush of hot air, as though he had been punched in the chest. Allowing the searing sensation settle and cool in the pit of his lower abdomen, he asked quietly, "Did they find out who did it?"
Peter shook his head slowly. "No... the murdering stopped and whoever it was got away. The police had no idea who it was." But he did. "You shouldn't worry about it though, Mr. Osborn. The murderer never made an attempt on your life." And Peter knew exactly why. The only reason he was even in this room was to help Harry. Under any other circumstances, the super hero was certain he would have captured and turned the villain in by now.
"So how about it? Is any of this coming back to you?"
Somewhat relieved by Peter's news that whoever had murdered his board had never come for him, he furrowed his brow, attempting to grasp at the broken shards of his past. And for the first time since he and the younger man had started the long walk back to remembering his life, something came to Osborn without being prompted.
"Oscorp was supposed to be sold, wasn't it?"
"Umm... yes sir." Norman's nearly prompt answer had surprised him, to say the least. They were making a considerable amount of progress today, something that pleased Peter greatly. The chocolate-haired youth leaned forward slightly, eyes focused solely on his elder and previous idol. Yes, it was true, though those days seemed long ago. When Peter had first met Norman Osborn, he had held the utmost respect for the man and his works. His papers were insightful and his research was so advanced even the blue-eyed genius had trouble understanding it at times. But then Norman had started to change. He became distant and cold. The Thanksgiving catastrophe had been the final blow to their falling out, and, when Peter, or rather, Spiderman, had discovered that Osborn was his Emerald Nemesis all along, all his respect for his elder was lost, an undying resent replacing it. He'd always been against hating, anyone or anything, a belief that had been taught to him at an early age by his Aunt and Uncle. But that didn't change the fact that Osborn had tried to take everything dear to him away. On more than one occasion, Peter had sworn he hated the Green Goblin and everything he was. And the fact that there were times, at night, Peter still had nightmares with his maniacal laughter running rampant throughout it didn't help any.
"Do you remember why they were going to sell it?" A frown replaced his smile as he continued to ask questions, ocean-blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"No... But it was supposed to go to... to Quest Aerodynamics..." His statement was more a question than an answer.
"That's right." Peter watched him suspiciously, a little unsure why it was that Osborn was recalling all these little details so quickly. Only a two days ago, he was having trouble remembering Oscorp itself. Had his one statement really spurred on a rush of memories? The wall crawler wasn't really sure about that.
"They were recapitalizing quickly, and the board had accepted an offer from Quest to buy the company. Shortly there after, at the Unity festival, they were killed." He'd hoped that was all correct. He couldn't really remember what Harry had told him about the situation and the details he had received were vague at best. He'd had to piece the story together on his own.
Norman nodded silently, trying to place the pieces Peter had helped him with into the jig-saw puzzle his mind had become. Leaning back in his desk chair, he sighed inwardly. Ok, so he had been CEO of Oscorp, somehow Quest had found a way to recapitalize and it had forced his company to sell. He had agreed - or maybe argued against it, he couldn't remember - and Oscorp went to Quest. But it didn't last long, because his board had been slaughtered. The older Osborn frowned. For the most part it made sense, but there were still things missing. Like if his company had gone to Quest, why was Harry in charge of it now? And what had caused Quest to be able to recapitalize? It had to have been something drastic, that was for sure, but what it was still evaded him. In essence, there was a picture starting to form in the jumble of half remembered memories, but nothing clear. Not yet anyway.
With another sigh, this one out loud, Osborn opened his mouth to ask a question about Quest only to be stopped by a flicker of recognition on the edges of his mind. His expression turning thoughtful, he attempted to chase whatever shard of his memory had tried to surface and for a moment he caught it. An echo of a voice, feral and long lost to him filled his mind.
* Did you think it was coincidence? So many good things all happening for you... all for you, Norman... *
A chill ran down his spine. What the hell was that?
"Something wrong?" Peter was no fool. True, he wasn't the most social person you could meet on a daily basis, but he observed people like the best of them. Osborn's sigh had been brushed aside as nothing more than a release of stress and frustration. His expression and the look in his eyes, however, did not go unnoticed by Peter. His whole body stiffened as he waited for a response, trying desperately to search Osborn's eyes with his own.
"No..." he responded, half to the voice that had bubbled up inside of him and half to his companion. His own limbs tensing, Norman was silent for a moment, praying the voice would not return. And after several seconds of mental silence, his winter-gray eyes met Peter's. "No, he repeated, with more certainty this time. "I'm fine. Just trying to piece things together.
"...Would you mind if we quit for today, Peter?"
Exhaling softly, Peter shook his head, body loosening slightly as he sat back in his chair. "No, of course not Mr. Osborn." For that moment, as he had sat with batted breath, he'd felt a shiver run up his spine. He'd been frightened, more so than his outward appearance had let on, and had almost believed he'd seen that crazed look in Norman's eyes that had been there not too long ago.
"Do you want me to call Harry?"
"Only if you can convince him to let me go home," Osborn responded, allowing himself to relax as he saw Peter do.
Since his son had found him in his former office two days ago, Harry had forced him to stay put and keep the door closed, only letting it open to let Peter in or to bring his father food. For the first morning, Norman had been fine with it, terrified of seeing anyone but the two college-aged boys. After that, however, it had gotten old quickly. And the older man had been trying to convince his son to let him get reacquainted with the outside world since dinner the previous night. He had been having little luck, though - Harry seemed adamant about keeping his father under lock and key.
"That could prove difficult." Peter responded, chuckling softly at Osborn's statement. Harry was stubborn, that Peter knew well. In fact, Peter would venture to say he was as, if not more, stubborn than his father.
"I could try though." He stood, reaching into his pocket for the cell phone his roommate had provided him with. It was hard not to envy Harry at times. Dialing the number he now had memorized, Peter turned his back to the elder man, waiting for the other Osborn to answer. Why he was doing this, he didn't know. In all honesty, it was probably a good idea to keep Norman locked up. It would prevent anything from triggering memories regarding the villain that had taken hold of the man's will, his very soul.
Two rings later, Harry had answered his cell phone. "Hello?" he asked, the sounds of a busy office in the background making it hard to him.
"Harry, it's me, Peter." The brunette glanced at Osborn quickly, sighing lightly into the phone. "We're done here, so how about we all go to home for some nice take-out?"
The younger Osborn frowned, despite the fact that he knew his friend wouldn't see his sour expression. Peter knew that he didn't want to take his father out in public, for fear of someone seeing the older man and wondering how he was walking the streets when he was supposed to be dead. It had the potential to raise unwanted questions if the wrong person - such as the man his best friend called boss - saw his father. And unwanted questions always lead to the involvement of the police, which is something Harry didn't want. Especially considering they would probably ship his father off to somewhere far away if the police were involved.
"I could pick something up and bring it up there," he suggested instead.
Peter cursed mentally. He should have known better than to believe Harry would agree so easily. He didn't answer for a moment, contemplating a way to try and get the other boy to agree with him.
"Gee Harry, you sound kind of busy..." A grin started to spread across Peter's face, a plan taking form in the back of his mind as he listened to the noise from the office. "Things a little busy down there?"
"Yeah. Something big just happened - there's an emergency board meeting in fifteen minutes," he muttered, pausing for a moment to let the noise of the office filter from his side of the line into Peter's ear. Then quickly he added, "But I've still got time to go pick up dinner if you and dad're hungry. Chinese maybe?"
"I dunno Harry... an emergency board meeting. Should you really be out running around when you've got that in only a few minutes?" Peter frowned, trying desperately to keep his voice persuasive. "Why don't you just let me run to get some food and I'll be back in no time. Then you don't have to worry about anything but your meeting and your dad and I can get some fresh air. We'll be back in no time and I promise no one will see him."
Harry sighed loudly into the phone. "Alright Pete," the younger Osborn answered finally, a silent 'but if anyone -does- see him, I'll never forgive you,' passing through the pause between the two boys that followed.
Peter's grin widened and he turned around, flashing a thumbs up to Norman and mouthing 'We're clear' before remembering he was still on the phone. "Thanks Harry. You know, you're the reason parents love their kids so much. Really you are."
"Uh-huh," Harry answered glumly, running a hand through his rusty tresses. This seemed like a bad idea to him, despite Peter's reassurance, but he had given already given in and he didn't have time to start arguing the point again. Like so many times in his life, he had to trust his best friend's word... and while that was usually easy, today it simply wasn't.
Offering another sigh, he said, "Look Pete, I've gotta go. Talk to you later, ok?"
"Oh yeah! Sorry about that. Well I'll talk to you later then. See you, Harry." Hanging up quickly, smile still on his face, Peter turned to Osborn. "Well, I've done the impossible. Harry said we could go out to get some Chinese, but I've got to make sure no one sees you, sir." He tapped his index finger to his chin steadily, very proud with himself.
"Guess we'll have to disguise you, sir."
The thought of having to be disguised to walk around in public didn't appeal to Osborn in the least, but at least it was better than being cooped up in his office for another night. And so, arching his eyebrows, he stood up slowly and glanced around the room for something suitable to use as a disguise. "Any ideas?"
Where was a sheet when you needed one? Smirking lightly at the thought, Peter took off his jacket, handing it to Norman before taking one last look around the room. "Well... you can use my jacket. And... hold on just a second, Mr. Osborn." Making his way to the door, the hero slipped out quickly and made his way down the empty halls. The only people that ever came to this floor were himself, Harry and an occasional custodial worker who swept the floor. This was exactly who Peter was looking for.
"Come on Steve... where are you?" He muttered to himself, rounding a corner. Spotting the janitor's cart, Peter sped up his pace, only to find the man asleep in a chair. The aspiring journalist watched Steve nervously for a few minutes before slowly taking his hat. With the item firmly in his grasp, Peter made a mad dash for Norman's office, leaning on the back of the door after he'd entered. "Got you a hat too."
"Thanks, Peter," the elder man replied pleasantly, already wearing Peter's jacket. Reaching for the hat, he threw it over his auburn-locks, pushing as much of his hair as he could under the dirty cap in an attempt to look even less like himself. Then, zipping up the jacket and stuffing his hands into his pockets, he glanced at Peter feeling considerably self-conscious of his appearance.
"So? What do you think?"
"Mr. Osborn, you look like me." Peter stated, genuine smile appearing on his face. "Not that that's a bad thing." He moved toward the door, hand outstretched for the knob, ready to turn it. "Let's go get some food."
Smiling for the first time since he had come back from the grave, Osborn motioned towards the door. "After you."
