[Pajamas. I seriously get a new suit that becomes whatever I want it to look like, and I think—comfy! Great, that's great, and at least I didn't go for fluffy pajamas with lots of bears or slippers because then I'd really look bad.
(Somewhere, someone's going look at your costume. I just know it.)
And then I think—Spider-Man! And that's great, too. But I go for jeans and it isn't cutting it. So it's either pajamas or a Spider-Man costume and something tells me that walking around in that get-up is going to get a few stares. Or I might potentially enter a situation I'm realllly not prepped for.
Ignoring all the other obvious moral quandaries about picking up a suit that's supposed to evolve with me. But the other option wasn't one that was available. Not right now.
Of course, that's Peter ignoring some of the other implications, starting with the fact that he should be dead. He's felt like he should be dead before. That time when Captain America found him under the rubble is pretty high on the list of "should be dead" moments. And he knows, he knows he could've asked. He could've said, "So, hey, why am I not dead?" But somehow, he doesn't want to ask. There's a million questions that go along with that, and he doesn't want to think that life after death means going to fight a war with a creepy costume with a bunch of other people. Seriously.
So, he avoids it. He thinks he might avoid it for a while if that's possible. He's here, and despite being fairly certain that last blast from Norman Osborn sealed the deal, he's not injured. He's sore, sure, but injured? Not quite. It's like it was all a bad dream and he just fell asleep at the wrong desk. (He wishes. He really wishes.) Instead, he moves on. He puts on the less tattered suit and makes a note to himself: get alternative clothes later. Seriously. Even if it means a bad job.
Right, he thinks to himself once he gets exploring. Now, Peter's idea of "comfy pajamas" isn't that unusual. He's wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a gray T-shirt. Time to go walk around in this random moon station. That sounds great. That definitely sounds like something I planned on doing today. Any day.
Peter Parker (Spider-Man) | Marvel (Earth-1610)
(Somewhere, someone's going look at your costume. I just know it.)
And then I think—Spider-Man! And that's great, too. But I go for jeans and it isn't cutting it. So it's either pajamas or a Spider-Man costume and something tells me that walking around in that get-up is going to get a few stares. Or I might potentially enter a situation I'm realllly not prepped for.
Ignoring all the other obvious moral quandaries about picking up a suit that's supposed to evolve with me. But the other option wasn't one that was available. Not right now.
Of course, that's Peter ignoring some of the other implications, starting with the fact that he should be dead. He's felt like he should be dead before. That time when Captain America found him under the rubble is pretty high on the list of "should be dead" moments. And he knows, he knows he could've asked. He could've said, "So, hey, why am I not dead?" But somehow, he doesn't want to ask. There's a million questions that go along with that, and he doesn't want to think that life after death means going to fight a war with a creepy costume with a bunch of other people. Seriously.
So, he avoids it. He thinks he might avoid it for a while if that's possible. He's here, and despite being fairly certain that last blast from Norman Osborn sealed the deal, he's not injured. He's sore, sure, but injured? Not quite. It's like it was all a bad dream and he just fell asleep at the wrong desk. (He wishes. He really wishes.) Instead, he moves on. He puts on the less tattered suit and makes a note to himself: get alternative clothes later. Seriously. Even if it means a bad job.
Right, he thinks to himself once he gets exploring. Now, Peter's idea of "comfy pajamas" isn't that unusual. He's wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a gray T-shirt. Time to go walk around in this random moon station. That sounds great. That definitely sounds like something I planned on doing today. Any day.
... Actually, what am I saying? I'm on the moon!]