Peter didn't even have time to peel his fingers from his eyes before the knife hit its mark, sinking in and illiciting a huffed exhale from Peter. Stumbling back onto his ass, Peter's first instinct was to pull the blade out, and he even got as far as wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the blade. But he knew with all the voids around, he'd be bleeding everywhere in no time with absolutely no opportunity to heal.

Which was right around when the shaking started -- hard tremors that pulled up his spine and splayed out to his shoulders and-- wait, made him laugh? For Peter, smiling was enough of a rarity, but starting to laugh after he'd been stabbed was an impossibility.

Except he was and somehow all of this felt incrediby wrong, and even more unfair than that.