[ Anything else Peter might have been wiling to say, he swallows with Sylar's sudden interest in... powdered egg of all things, especially since he's now looking down at Mr. Muggles, who's happily turned Peter's lap into his basket.
Glowering slightly as he watches Sylar search through his cupboards, Peter should have just enough to make pancakes, somewhere at least -- he's lived here long enough after all. He probably even has pancake mix hidden in the depths of the cabinets, he just hardly ever cares enough to cook for himself. Peter's content to live on his diet of coffee and peanut butter sandwiches most days.
He can only hold back his curiosity for so long, though, before he sinks back against the cupboard behind him, still glowering at Sylar for upsetting the balance to his morning. ] What're you trying to make? [ The question is grumpy at best, and Peter picks up his mug to hide behind it once again. ]
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Glowering slightly as he watches Sylar search through his cupboards, Peter should have just enough to make pancakes, somewhere at least -- he's lived here long enough after all. He probably even has pancake mix hidden in the depths of the cabinets, he just hardly ever cares enough to cook for himself. Peter's content to live on his diet of coffee and peanut butter sandwiches most days.
He can only hold back his curiosity for so long, though, before he sinks back against the cupboard behind him, still glowering at Sylar for upsetting the balance to his morning. ] What're you trying to make? [ The question is grumpy at best, and Peter picks up his mug to hide behind it once again. ]