[Petre blinks like he's adjusting his eyeballs in his skull, mouth parted to breathe while he shakes something off. His hair? No. It's something else, something that's buzzing loudly like the blast made him go deaf.
(Harry said 'blast'. Hah.)
He turns his head to him without a frown. Just a blank stare of someone seeing his own face for the first time and failing to recognize it. Harry has his face. And his hair, or some color closer to it, if Petre didn't dye it every other week.
Eventually he gathers himself, makes proper use of the energy stored in his limbs, focus returning to the back of his mind. Sitting up he places both hands down on the mattress and slides his legs off. The ground feels exceptionally cool beneath his feet. The walls are whiter than before. His senses are flaring. He's high again.]
[ harry's expression is pure delight. this childishly excited sort of look that's mixed with an expression only one who is completely intoxicated could put on. like a cat after you hand it nip and it starts rolling around for no conceivable reason.
he technically was rolling on petre a second ago.
he slides off the bed and hops back to his feet, rubbing his hands together and watching petre carefully. because it's his own face but it reacts completely differently to how he does. wears expressions he doesn't think he's personally worn. still fascinating. ]
Where would you like to go?
[ he holds his arms out. the tone suggests anywhere is game. ]
[And - yeah, maybe it takes a while for the purely physical aspect of Harry's transferral to make its effect on Petre's mood, but it eventually reveals itself. Suddenly Petre's engaging in a lazy smile that's still full of intent, looking at Harry from a lower angle, edge of danger in the way he slowly reveals a thin line of teeth.]
I could use a smoke right about now. [Cigarettes have been taken from him for now. All he's got is fucking chewing gum.] Unless you got something else on you.
[ he's looking off with a thoughtful hum, trying to think of what (or rather who) feels like nicotine to him. it's not something he likes but he has tried it. ]
I've got other stuff though, definitely. [ yeah "something else" is definitely something he has. harry osborn: alcohlic drug addict ]
[Needless to say Petre likes the sound of that, even if it doesn't match his immediate want. He didn't have to have been infected by Harry's contagious power to smile like he is now.]
[ harry's leading the way back to his room, still acting like he's high as a kite. boom. pow. fireworks. his head keeps buzzing while he holds any energy he didn't let petre have still. he'll be normal and then jolt back up again. ]
[The energy is good, but it's making him impatient. He's already energized by always wanting everything the exact moment he thinks about it, and now is no exception.]
[ he stops abruptly, spins on a heel to face him just outside of his own door and digs around in his pockets. yeah he might straight up have something on him. what a terrible person. ]
..Ah no, wait. I took that earlier. [ nevermind. he's opening his door and going inside waving behind him ] Close that behind you. [ then he's sitting down on the floor at the end of his bed and pulling up a floor board. because hiding places a++. look at all the illegal shit and alcohol he's got in there. ]
[Close the door he does, lazily, just waiting to see what Harry manages to pull out now that they're in his little kingdom. He can have this room, sure, the rest of the school? Petre's very convinced it should just belong to him.]
Do I want to ask how you got all that in here?
[When Petre wants something, he has no qualms about ditching the place and going into the city to just get it.]
[ he's pulling all sorts of things out of there. like a big bag of tricks. and all he does is shrug carelessly at the question instead of reply for a moment - looking something over and trying to remember how quickly it works. ]
Everyone has a certain amount of money they'll take before they let you do whatever you want.
[All Petre needs is words. Which might just be a deliberate but small jab at Harry. Ha, ha, I can get away with anything I want and I don't need no stinking money.
(It's true - he was only grounded because he willingly took the blame. A promise is a promise.)]
[ he has to wonder which one is worse though. buying everyone or forcing them? he likes to think it's a little better when they'll willingly give into greed instead of mindlessly doing as they're told. but either way: nobody actually cares about them in the end. tragic.
he's holding a hand full of whatever out to him. did harry even check? does he care? no. ]
[Petre would definitely say buying, only because of all the extra effort involved. Having to bargain with people. Keep offering more until they finally say yes. His method is so much more convenient. But then Petre has difficulty viewing people as valuable individuals of any kind.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
(Harry said 'blast'. Hah.)
He turns his head to him without a frown. Just a blank stare of someone seeing his own face for the first time and failing to recognize it. Harry has his face. And his hair, or some color closer to it, if Petre didn't dye it every other week.
Eventually he gathers himself, makes proper use of the energy stored in his limbs, focus returning to the back of his mind. Sitting up he places both hands down on the mattress and slides his legs off. The ground feels exceptionally cool beneath his feet. The walls are whiter than before. His senses are flaring. He's high again.]
Get me out of here.
no subject
he technically was rolling on petre a second ago.
he slides off the bed and hops back to his feet, rubbing his hands together and watching petre carefully. because it's his own face but it reacts completely differently to how he does. wears expressions he doesn't think he's personally worn. still fascinating. ]
Where would you like to go?
[ he holds his arms out. the tone suggests anywhere is game. ]
no subject
I could use a smoke right about now. [Cigarettes have been taken from him for now. All he's got is fucking chewing gum.] Unless you got something else on you.
no subject
[ he's looking off with a thoughtful hum, trying to think of what (or rather who) feels like nicotine to him. it's not something he likes but he has tried it. ]
I've got other stuff though, definitely. [ yeah "something else" is definitely something he has. harry osborn: alcohlic drug addict ]
I've got everythiiiiing.
no subject
Show us the way, Harry.
no subject
What's your poison of choice, Petre?
no subject
[The energy is good, but it's making him impatient. He's already energized by always wanting everything the exact moment he thinks about it, and now is no exception.]
no subject
[ he stops abruptly, spins on a heel to face him just outside of his own door and digs around in his pockets. yeah he might straight up have something on him. what a terrible person. ]
..Ah no, wait. I took that earlier. [ nevermind. he's opening his door and going inside waving behind him ] Close that behind you. [ then he's sitting down on the floor at the end of his bed and pulling up a floor board. because hiding places a++. look at all the illegal shit and alcohol he's got in there. ]
Hmmmmm...
no subject
Do I want to ask how you got all that in here?
[When Petre wants something, he has no qualms about ditching the place and going into the city to just get it.]
no subject
Everyone has a certain amount of money they'll take before they let you do whatever you want.
no subject
[All Petre needs is words. Which might just be a deliberate but small jab at Harry. Ha, ha, I can get away with anything I want and I don't need no stinking money.
(It's true - he was only grounded because he willingly took the blame. A promise is a promise.)]
no subject
[ he has to wonder which one is worse though. buying everyone or forcing them? he likes to think it's a little better when they'll willingly give into greed instead of mindlessly doing as they're told. but either way: nobody actually cares about them in the end. tragic.
he's holding a hand full of whatever out to him. did harry even check? does he care? no. ]
Try these.
no subject
'They have a name?