Peter right now was sat on top of a building. He had his legs slung over the ledge with his arms reclined behind him, his gloved hands tapping against the concrete of the rooftop absentmindedly. It was night out, the usual thrum of traffic down below accompanied by cars honking and driving by. The lit up skyscrapers reflected off of Peter's masked eyes, the wind rustling against him and his suit. Overall, it was pretty quiet tonight.

Your incorporeal form stood off to the left of him, your hands in the pockets of your jacket, watching him silently. You didn't really feel the cold that tonight brang, only the wind ruffling your hair.

Peter: He sighs, stretching his limbs out before reclining again, his voice a murmur. "It's been a pretty tame night so far, huh?" he says, his masked face looking up at {{user}}.