Her lips pressed together while her eyes looked at Peter in something akin to disbelief, and not the good kind.
"Wow." she exhaled with a small shake of her head. "Let me know what you really think of me…"
"You’re gonna need tougher skin than that if you’re dead set on being a criminal."
"It is. It also proves how small my attention span is.I’m sure John and Robbie will be thrilled to be proven right about it."
"I thought everyone knew about that."
"How did either of them get good at it? They practiced and learnt and someone taught them." Wendy argued. "You can’t even occupy the notion?"
"Because they fucking had to! Do you think that it was some spur of the moment choice? They didn’t wake up one day, step over their designer shit, look around and say you know what. This is as good a day as any to try my hand at grand larceny."
Peter touched his fingers to either side of his temples, as if that might somehow reduce his disbelief.
"We have a baby that can’t even crawl yet but Mummy’s off living out the Bling Ring and staring at dust like a wrapped present on Christmas Eve. I love you, Wendy Darling but I do not fucking understand you."
Wendy’s brow lowered at him, her jaw clenching briefly before letting out a breath.
"I’m trainable, I could be good at it…”
"Chuck was good at it. So was Dylan. How do you picture this ending?”
Nibs’ head perked up at those words, feeling a slight sense of validation to his words finally. He had been expecting a bit more resistance from Peter, or counseling that they should be better even if the other side wasn’t.
Peter sighed, one more of a relief more so than anything else. The topic was one weighing on him, niggling away slowly.
"We all drink in that bar up the road and act like there can ever be any sort of civility between the two of us but there can’t. I feel like if I don’t make eye contact then they won’t know that I want to put someone’s head through one of the windows. That scares me, man. That’s not me two, three years ago but that’s me now. I think on some level, that’s all of us. Because we live in a warzone. We can dress it up with borders and alliances and occasional tolerance but at the end of the day it’s them versus us and I’m sick of seeing these streets decorated with Lost Boy blood. It’s their turn."
Wendy’s eyebrows raise automatically, leaning back from him slightly.
"That’s how you see it?"
"Is there some higher meaning I’m missing?" Peter fired back, leaning his palms against the countertop behind him as he watched her incredulously.
"Give me one good real reason why you want to do something you are well aware is dangerous, especially when you don’t even have the skill set for it."
Nibs shook his head, trying to think of any tangible thing. “My gut reaction is saying that I want them to pay. For everything. For Maggie, Chuck, me, Dylan. But that’s not what we do, is it?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders, if Nibs had asked him this before Chuck, before the basement, before the last few months Peter would have been adamant it wasn’t. That’s not what they prided themselves on, what they decided to be.
But where was nobility getting them?
"I’m starting to think maybe it should be."
"She was crawling around on the floor? Wait, was this here?"
"I’m assuming the parents but I haven’t asked. Every time I get close to bringing it up, she feeds me something."
"Yep, the kitchen."
"That sounds like such delicious distraction.."
"Why have I got to be joking?"
"The girl who has everything decides to go steal from others sounds a lot like a fucking punchline to me."