Dive Dive Dive


melissa2_icon.gif peter7_icon.gif

Scene Title Dive, Dive, Dive
Synopsis Peter and Melissa meet. They talk about abilities, their potential, and Peter suffers from Guilt.
Date March 2, 2010


"Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

That is the sign that rests just above the double doors that lead from the small foyer into the club proper. Once through the doors the music is all-encompassing, the heavy bass beat filling the room and senses of the club-goers. The decor is all dark, the walls painted black, the bar a sleek dark wood. The lights all have a reddish tinge to them, with the bar and DJ booth being the only places in the club proper that have more normal white light.

There are high tables with equally tall chairs circling a large dance floor, and booths set along two of the walls. But while socializing is a big part of the club, the dancing is the priority. People, some Goths, some punks, and some just people who like to dance are all packed on the dance floor. Weaving through the sea of people are servers, men and women both, dressed in black pants or skirts, and tee-shirts that have "Taratarus" written across the chest in red lettering. Likewise there are security people at the door and mixed through the club, in similar outfits, only their shirts have "SECURITY" on the back.

Any time someone goes to a club after hours or before opening, it's a whole different type of environment. It's like being Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, having just pulled back the curtain to find shabby old Henry Gale as the force behind the mighty Wizard. On the outside, the upcoming and still in the process of opening nightclub Tartarus may not be quite the same in decor as the Emerald City, but for Peter Petrelli it's about as foreign a land to fit as substitute.

With interior lights on, ladders propped up and drop ceiling tiles removed to show exposed wires where construction workers had been installing dance floor lights and sound system wiring all day, Tartarus clearly is a work in progress. Admittedly, even the only semi-present Goth-club decor makes Peter look completely out of place.

Hands tucked into the pockets of his paramedic jacket, the dark haired EMT makes his way across the tile floor, brows lifted in curious expression as he glances up into the exposed portions of the club's ceiling, nosing around in his search for the errant manager he'd made acquaintance with at the Corinthian Gala.

For a wanted criminal on the run from the government, Melissa Pierce— or Rebecca Andrews as the business card she'd given Peter had said— is doing good for herself.

"Hello?" It's not surprising that the unfinished club is all but vacant at six in the evening, though he's hoping the singular person he'd called ahead to meet here didn't leave early.

Melissa is sitting at the bar doing some paperwork when Peter arrives. The chore of all manages. The evil, endless paperwork. Hearing the familiar voice she looks up and over to the door, but it takes her a minute before she responds. She uses that minute to study him now that they're in a different setting, and not surrounded by oodles of people. Finally she turns her body so she's facing him, and half leans against the bar. "I was starting to think that you'd thrown away my card and I'd never hear from you again," she calls out, voice echoing a bit in the room meant to be filled with people and noise.

Cracking a smile, Peter raises his shoulders in a helpless shrug. "I work twelve hour shifts, so it doesn't leave a lot of time in the day to harass near strangers who leave me calling cards." Not anymore at least. "So, I'll be honest…" Peter admits with a quirk of his head to the side, glancing up at one of the ladders he passes on his way to meet Melissa at the bar, "I don't know how long I'll be here for. I mostly wanted to sate my curiosity about something. I'm not sure what you expected."

Moving to stand beside the bar and between a pair of stools, Peter leans his side against the bartop, hands still tucked into the pockets of his jacket. "I'm not the world's best conversationalist, if… the whole Gala thing didn't make that really obvious." Earnestly cracking a smile again, Peter finally withdraws a hand from his coat to scratch at the back of his neck.

"So— " his eyes wander to the floor, then back up to Melissa. "You really think this is a good idea?" His eyes motion around the club before meeting her eyes. "This whole, business? I mean, you've still got to be on some pretty dark wanted lists. I'm not trying to advocate going underground, but— it seems counterproductive to hiding out. Aren't you worried about getting spotted?"

Melissa arches a brow. "So you came to interrogate me and run? My, my…I hope it won't hurt. Don't you know you're supposed to give a lady flowers or chocolate before you bang and leave?" she asks, lips curving into a smile. "And perhaps it's not the wisest choice, but I need money, don't I? I gotta live like anyone else. And last time I checked, I couldn't predict the lottery numbers so I could live in comfort the rest of my life without working." She shrugs a little, standing and moving around behind the bar. "Besides, this is hardly a high profile job. If things run well, no one but the employees would ever see me, and they have no idea what I am, and no way to link the person in Moab to me but for a picture…if they can find one." She starts to fix herself a drink, then pauses, glancing up at him. "Want anything while I'm back here?"

It's a simple enough excuse, and Peter at the moment is in no place to be begrudging anyone for wanting to live a normal life when in all rights they shouldn't. Scrubbing a hand at the back of his neck, he sheepishly smiles and shakes his head. "No— No I'm fine, thanks though." Turning to lean his arms up on the bar, hands folded, Peter finally settles down onto a stool, watching Melissa work her way around the bar, one brow raised in thoughtful consideration.

"Not so much interrogation, I just… wanted to find out about your power. Whether you want to talk about it, or— " Peter angles his head to the side, "You just want to let me shake your hand. However much you want to say, it's up to you. I'm just curious what it is you do, since I'm looking for a healer, and typically they tend to keep their ability closely guarded. You know— demand and all."

Melissa arches a brow. "Why do I wanna let you shake my hand? I've got not problem tellin' you about my power. Helena vouched for you…sorta…and if you were in Moab too, I don't see you trying to do anything to get me shoved back into a cell somewhere," she says, shrugging. She leans against the bar, glass in hand. "I'm not a healer though, sorry. But if you wanna know what I do, then just ask. But I wanna know more about your power too."

Quirking a brow, Peter offers something of a lopsided smile to the admission of what Melissa wants to find out about. "Right now?" Peter rests his elbows on the bar and taps his fingertips together, "Right now I can tell who has a power just by being near them, and if last night's any indication, I can tell what power they have by touching them. Just one touch, and it's as easy as that." Reaching up to scratch at the side of his cheek, Peter furrows his brows and looks askance at Melissa before focusing back down on the bartop.

"With everything that happened that night, I kind've forget exactly what I told you about the rest of my ability— how it works. It's— I've only heard of one other person who has it, and I've heard he passed away. So, it's not something that people have to deal with too regularly. It's part of why I'm looking for a healer, so I can replicate the ability and then just…" Peter waggles fingers in the air, "do my job better."

Melissa's brows lift. "Which is why you wanna shake my hand," she says, nodding a bit, then sipping at her drink. "And you didn't tell me much. You told me you took other people's powers, but that it didn't take them take them. Like, they could still use 'em. So do you just like, build up a collection of powers or something? Or does it only last for X number of hours or something?" But so far, she's not offering her hand. Bad Melissa!

"Nah, if you're not a healer I probably don't want what you have. Right now though I can feel an ah— an explanation— of your power with a touch. It'll identify what you have to me, in a way. It's sort've intuitive." Peter slouches forward on the barstool, resting his chin on folder hands. "What I want to know, is how what I see of your power, and what you know of your power differs. Some people see things in their ability that most don’t, so an outside perspective can be handy."

Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Peter lets his brows lift in thought for a moment, before he focuses down on the bartop. "I can't have more than one, uh, borrowed power at a time. Far as I can tell, anyway. I had telepathy the night I met you, right now I have this… I dunno what to call it, power detection?" Both of his brows crease together uncertainly.

Melissa's brows shoot up. "Telepathy?" Her brows then lower, eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you read my mind that night?" Because really, to have a guy know that you asked him to dance because you thought his butt was cute would be a little embarrassing. Even for Melissa! She straightens, moving around the bar again, to reclaim the stool next to his. "And no, you wouldn't want my ability if you'd rather heal. Though I wouldn't mind some medical type tips at some point. Doesn't have to be tonight."

"Maybe," Peter admits with a crooked smile. "But I don't need to be a mind-reader now to see that your embarrassed, so— " he cracks a smile and shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe we should stick with assuming I didn't, and that I'm an upstanding gentleman." Scratching at stubble on his chin, Peter sits up straight on his stool, watching Melissa with a lopsided grin. "Why don't you tell me what you have, then I'll compare it with what this new power of mine says you have."

Playful, is the tone of Peter's voice. "That way I can finally test this out on someone who has an ability I haven't used before. I'm still sort've learning the ropes with it, and— it's given me this really nagging curiosity about people's abilities. The original, ah…" What's the best word to use? "Owner?" Well, that works. "She said it's sort've like an addiction in a way, needing to know."

Melissa rolls her eyes. "Hardly embarrassed." Her head tilts them, and though a smile forms on her lips, it's an impish smile. A smile that says that she can't be up to any good whatsoever. "But I'll make a deal with you, Peter…What's your last name anyway? Oh, off track. The deal…I'll tell you what my power is, and I'll let you test it yourself…but I want another dance. One that isn't interrupted by ex-girlfriends or whatever went on the other night. Of course, I'd also be happy with no collapsing girls and major revelations either."

Snorting out a laugh, Peter quirks his head to the side and offers Melissa something of a coy smile. "I— am a little attached to someone at the moment. A particular blonde telepath… but— " Peter raises a hand up slowly, "a dance is just a dance." And her ability is a fascinating mystery if she's kept it guarded for this long. "If that's what it'll take— sure." Sliding off of the stool, Peter rises up to stand straight and smoothes out the front of his jacket quietly. "I ah— I can't say it'll be much of a dance without any music, but I'll still indulge."

Stepping away from the bar, Peter raises one brow and looks at Melissa a bit side-long. "Last names aren't important, I don't have your real one anyway." There's a lopsided quality to his smile, though Peter here reveals that as much as he might like to play this particular cat and mouse game, he's forgetting that his last name is written on the front of his paramedic's jacket, where it clearly says Petrelli.

Melissa laughs. "You never asked for mine," she points out, rising from the stool and taking a few steps back, into an open area while she grins at him, crooking a finger at him. "And let me know when you're fully attached, then I'll decide if I'm disappointed or not. You're intriguing, and have a cute butt, but I've got a few very strict criteria that any guy I end up getting involved with has to meet. Not sure you meet them yet. Can't really tell after one meeting, now can I?"

"You'd be surprised what you can tell about someone after one meeting." Peter admits as he takes a few more paces away from the bar and over towards the dance floor, eyeing the ladder nearby before turning around to look back over his shoulder to Melissa. "So I take it I'm just supposed to imagine music and maybe a crowd so I don't feel so awkward dancing by myself in an unfinished club?" Peter's expression turns to a crooked and more wry smile as he rests his hands on his hips, one brow up and a hand rising to be offers out towards Melissa.

"May I have this imaginary dance?" Peter asks sarcastically, that lopsided smile never quite straightening.

"No one around to see how awkward you are though. Besides, awkward can be kinda cute," Melissa admits with a soft laugh. Before she takes his hand though, her head tilts and she grins. "By the way, darlin'? Keepin' your last name a secret would probably be easier if you weren't wearin' this," she says, tapping lightly on the name on his jacket. Then she does take his hand, the other hand settling on his shoulder, perhaps just a touch too much towards the back of his neck for a casual dance. But she did say that awkward was cute, so…"So my power…The government calls it pain projection. Basically, I can make a person feel pain. Any kind of pain. Can be mildly annoying, like…a pinch. But it can be bad enough to literally make a person pass out from the pain," she explains, keeping the smile on her face. But that's just a facade, and she watches him closely, to judge his reaction. However, while the smile remains, she does hold her breath for a minute. It's never fun telling someone you have a power meant to harm.

Grimacing somewhat awkwardly, Peter shifts his weight to one foot ahdn Melissa hooks that arm over his shoulders. The grimace isn't so much from the close proximity, as it is the embarrassment he has at forgetting his name is stenciled across the front of his jacket. Turning that awkward expression into something more of a smile, Peter's shoulders tense up perhaps counter-intuitively, even as he's settling his free hand on the small of Melissa's back.

"Pins and needles…" Peter says in a quiet tone of voice, hesitant in the way he says that to Melissa. "You— your ability feels like really subtle pins and needles on my hands." Dark brows furrow together, and Peter's eyes meet Melissa's in a sheepish fashion. "Pain… goes both ways, you know. It's like water, flows in both directions… I— had an ability once, let me take the life out of someone, and give it to someone else. Sort've like healing, but it came with a cost."

Swallowing anxiously, Peter seems stiff in his movements, as if he's afraid of what the proximity to Melissa means, or perhaps what her ability means to him. "That power felt like pins and needles to other people… it's— it's the first thing yours reminded me of." He wants to enjoy this, but almost seems to be feeling a little guilty for it.

Melissa tilts her head when he first starts to speak, and she frowns a little, not quite sure what to think of his statement. When he continues it has her frowning more, but it's a thoughtful frown. But it doesn't stop her from moving with him when he begins dancing, or take the smooth-flowing grace out of her steps. "I…honestly hadn't thought of it like that. I mean, I've never taken pain from anyone, just given it. And I can make the pain I caused stop, but like…if someone gets stabbed? They don't hurt less when they're around me. Maybe my power is a one way power?" she asks, though she doesn't sound certain of that fact.

"Have you ever tried to take away someone's pain?" Peter's progression across the room in a songless dance is a touch awkward with Melissa this close. His brows furrow, distracting himself with the discussion of something less personal. "The ability I told you about, the… sort've healing one? The man who had it before me— well— " God that's complicated, "It's— the person who had it the longest, he… never thought to use it to heal anyone. He hated himself, hated his ability, because all it did was suck the life out of people, to keep him living for generation after generation and heal his wounds…"

Dark eyes narrow a touch, and Peter looks askance at the floor, because looking Melissa in the eyes this close was starting to make him feel even guiltier than he already does. "When you get a preconceived notion about what your power is, and what limits it has… you start limiting yourself to what it can do. I've seen enough— had enough— to know that all it takes is a different perspective on something to make it change."

"Well, no," Melissa admits. She falls quiet for a moment, her head tilting as she studies him. She has no issues about looking him in the eyes, anyway. "But I noticed my power because I started accidentally hurting the people around me. And it took me a while just to realize that it was me doing it." She shrugs slightly. "Not sure how I'd try either. I mean, c'mon…'Hi, I need to hurt you so that I can try and see if I can make the pain go away' isn't going to float for most people. Have had one person offer to be a guinea pig for my power, before knowing what it was, but…I don't know."

Smirking, Peter shakes his head, dark eyes rising back to Melissa after a moment. "No it— that'd probably go over bad. I mean, just wait for the right opportunity you know? People get hurt all the time, keep your eyes open for it, and hey— let me know if it works too. It might not be a bad ability for me to hang on to in my line of work if it can be used for sedation." Cracking a more honest smile, Peter looks over to the ladder he almost slides right into, then snorts out a laugh.

"You want to be careful though," Peter admits with an incline of his head, the nod unintentionally brushing his forehead against Melissa's. He immediately straightens up, grimacing and clearing his throat awkwardly. "I ah— it— might you know— the pain?" Peter's awkward cadence of speech matches the now herky-jerky pace of his songless dance. "You might not just take it away, but— take it on yourself."

Melissa laughs softly at the sedation bit, then sobers into a simple, but honest, smile at his reaction to the touching of their foreheads. "Do I make you nervous, Peter?" she murmurs, and the arm that's sort of on his shoulder slides just a little more securely around him. Sure she could say that she's trying to make it so that she can prevent them from running into ladders, but it's far from the truth. "And I'll let you know…If you give me some way of contacting you." His warning has her shaking her head slightly. "I don't know that I would. I don't feel pain when I give it, not unless I'm really pushing myself, so not sure why taking it away would hurt me either. Besides, it would probably be just as temporary whether I'm giving or taking pain."

Peter's only response to the question of her ability's particulars is a lopsided grimace. What comes after is about more pressing matters. "I— I'll be honest." In that Peter stops dancing when he says that is somewhat concerning. "I— I'm not nervous about you, I'm nervous about me. You're… pretty much exactly the kind of girl I tend to fall for; young, pretty, kind've a chip on your shoulder?" There's a quirk of one brow and that grimace turns into an apologetic smile. "I… I have a bad track record with relationships, I lose a lot of people around me, or I hurt them, or…"

Huffing out a breath, Peter bites down on his lower lip and shakes his head. "I've got someone really wonderful right now, and— to be honest I don't know exactly where she and I stand. I don't know how one-sided what I feel is, or— " Peter's about as eloquent as a bull rhino is graceful. "Look it— it's just… I know I make a lot of mistakes. You… kind've seem like someone I could make a lot of mistakes with." Peter can't quite hole in the nervous laugh he adds at the end there.

"I just— I really want to not screw this one up." The tone of his voice, there, seems much less joking and more somber than before. Peter's eyes finally meet with Melissa's again, and he raises one brow questioningly, as if to see what she thinks of his stumbling explanation of his nervousness.

Melissa stops when he does, but then, she doesn't exactly move away either. His words do give her pause, however, and she mulls them over for a minute before replying. "Okay, think I'm gonna start at the beginning of all that and work my way through," she says slowly, like she's still organizing her thoughts. "First?" She smiles. "You're kinda cute yourself. And nice butt, by the way." Let no one say she's not honest! "Second, I'm not that easy to hurt. Emotionally or physically. And I take the risk of the latter anyway. So if that's influencing anything? I'd rethink it. Third…Well, if I were the noble type, I'd just step back, smile, and get back to talking business. But I'm not noble. I'll help the evolved in any way I possibly can, even if it means that sometime I gotta die to do it. But in my personal life, I'll be the first to admit that I'm more than a little selfish," she confesses with a wry smile. "However…while I'm selfish and more than a little direct, I'm not the type to force myself on anyone, in anyway. Well, again, unless it's bad guys and it's pain being forced on them, but that's a whole other story. So I'll just ask you one question…You don't know if she digs on you, and you said you were sorta involved. So answer me this…What if she's not interested, and it goes no where, and you just passed up your chance with a chick who just admitted she thinks you have a nice ass and is very intrigued by you? You don't always get a second chance," she says with another of her wry smiles.

"She digs." Peter offers in hesitant explanation. "I— " Moving his hand from the small of Melissa's back, Peter toys with his lower lip, brows furrowed and head canted to the side. "I don't know what she and I are yet. I'm going to make sure I have the time to figure it out, too…" Still holding her hand in his, Peter's grip tightens just a little before he slides his fingers from hers and takes an anxious step back. "You're— really unusual. I— I mean that in a good way, you're just…" Dark eyes narrow subtly, as if Peter's trying to discern more about Melissa than just what he can see, even if he doesn't quite have the ability to do that. "I need to not jinx what I already have."

Hesitantly smiling, Peter reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I've met anyone quite as up front as you are that wasn't trying to beat the crap out've me…" A snorted laugh is added to those words, and as Peter watches Melissa, there's a softening of those somewhat awkward features of his and his crooked posture. "I just— I mess things up easily, and… I think I might enjoy making a mistake with you too much."

He can't give her a backhanded comment like that without expecting some sort of reaction. And in this case, it's a quick, amused grin. "Oh, trust me, darlin', you most definitely would. But what would be the harm in that? If you're gonna make a mistake, might as well enjoy doin' it, right?" Melissa replies, arms falling down by her sides once he lets her hand go. "Pity though. We could've had fun, and trust me, babe, there isn't another girl like me out there. And you telling me you're tempted? Gotta say…that wasn't a wise thing to say. Makes me want to see just how tempted. To see if I could tempt you away."

She takes a small step towards him. She's not touching him, not right now, but a deep breath on the part of either would surely change that. Her voice drops to a soft, intimate whisper. "And honestly? Makes me want to kiss you to see what'd happen. You know what they say about forbidden fruit, right?"

It's quiet enough in the club to hear a pin drop, so the noisy sound of Peter swallowing a lump in his throat seems almost comically pronounced. A breath is exhaled, shuddering and shallow, and Peter's dark brows furrow as he stares down towards Melissa. Anxiously wetting his lips, there's a stillness and a silence to his posture; like someone confronted with a large predatory animal. It's somewhat comical given their surroundings of the half constructed club.

"I… ah…"

"…cause I can't stand not touching other Evo's, like… right… now."

Wendy's words ring in the back of Peter's mind, and had he thought to pay more heed to the consequences of her power on his psyche maybe he might not have put himself in this predicament. Proximity and power play hand in hand, and even as Peter's heart races, he lifts one hand up slowly to brush the side of his thumb across Melissa's cheek, the prickling sensation of her ability in the back of his mind gives way to a shiver, and his palm soon cups her cheek, brows furrowed still and eyes locked on hers as if trying to stare through her.

Pain manipulation lances through his mind, it's exactly what she has, what Wendy's ability tells him she has. It's funny that in a way psychological pain might be a part of that in Peter's consideration of it. She's certainly putting him through enough right at the moment.


He doesn't quite have the words to say otherwise.

Melissa remains silent while thoughts run through his head, lips curve in a smile while she waits with what seems like patience. The brush of his thumb has her expression softening, but it's the cupping of her cheek that could prove dangerous. A touch, coupled with no refusal, no asking her not to, seems to have become an invitation to Melissa. She's not that much shorter than him, so she doesn't have to go on her toes that far. That, either by accident or design, has her swaying slightly towards him, adding in more of the touch that seems so addictive to him, but perhaps even that is overshadowed, when that leaning in results in her going for a kiss, soft, gentle almost, at least at first.

Every single warning in Peter's head is screaming dive, dive, dive the moment Melissa leans for him, but unfortunately for Peter that palm on Melissa's cheek doesn't shove her face away from his, instead serves to gently guide it in. It's an unexpected psychological side-effect of Wendy's very tactile ability and Peter's own working together with an already enticed mind to lead towards this moment of indiscretion— Peter Petrelli fails at relationships.

A sharp breath is drawn in through his nose when Melissa's lips touch his, and the sensation from it is a prickling tingle. Every touch seems to react the same way, as though each Evolved had a different texture and feeling to them, it's like kissing a battery in a way, that tingling buzz going down the back of Peter's neck. Vague phantom memories of his time with Elle in the Company come flooding back, memories that aren't — entirely — his to have in the first place.

Perhaps not the best blonde to associate with Melissa as well, what for all the sexual tension between those two when he was an Agent. Maybe that's why Peter's hand finds its way down to the small of Melissa's back again, drawing her closer towards him as his lips pluck at hers, eyes fall shut and he stumbles back to follow the momentum of her lean forward.

Peter winds up backed against a wall on the dance floor, hand sliding up Melissa's back, and his lips pulling at her bottom one gently as his forehead brushes against hers. "We— shouldn't— " he breathes out an excess of uncertainties, "I— ah— I shouldn't— " That tingling prickle of her pain manipulation in his power detection finds him doing nothing but staying attached to the blonde, though.

Fingers move up to the back of Melissa's neck, curl in long hair, and when Peter breathes out a warm breath against her lips a shiver runs through him from the continual contact.

"This is all Wendy's fault."

When she's not pushed away, but instead pulled closer, Melissa relaxes a little. She knew he was tempted! And like a can of Pringles, once you pop, you can't stop. It seems to go as much for her as anything though. When he speaks her lips curve lightly. "If you really meant that…you wouldn't be holding me against you," she points out softly, as a hand comes to rest on his chest, settled over his heart, just firmly enough to feel the beat of it beneath her fingers.

But women are evil, fickle creatures, and Melissa is no exception. "One more…then I'm going to step back. When we do this again," and she sounds certain that there will be an again, "it's going to be as much your idea as mine." Confidence is not something this pain manipulator lacks.

Silence is Peter's answer, lips parted to try and speak but the temptation and the intoxication of Wendy's ability are simply one to many factors to take when compounded on genuine interest in the young woman. It's always the blondes that wind up being the most dangerous for Peter, and this particular one is no exception. Eyes fluttering shut, Peter leans back towards Melissa, his nose pushing hers aside, lips lightly pressed to her own, breath warm and fingers curling in her hair again.

This time, though, Peter turns to the side and drags Melissa with him, bringing her around to press up against the wall he'd been back up to. His lips brush across her cheek in featherlight motions, nose moving to her ear, every single touch of skin on skin is the most unusual of sensations from the way her ability tingles through his senses. Peter turns her head to the side with a nudge of his jaw, lips to her neck and a hand wandering across her waist while the other stays at her back.

Too much, not enough, it's hard to say. But whatever Peter takes away from this experience, it's clear that it's not going to be a lesson learned, not until it's far too late to benefit from it at least. Melissa has drawn him in, like a fish caught in a net, and now it's up to her to either turn him loose to the sea again or toss him in the bucket to gasp for breath.

While Melissa may be a sucker for the cute, awkward guys, she's a goner when those same guys take a little control. She asked for the kiss, in a way, so there's no hesitation there. But when she ends up the one caught against the wall, the hand on his chest curls, to lightly grip his jacket, and the other arm slowly lifts to slide around him, taking her turn to hold him close.

The nudging has her head turning easily, and a content sigh escapes her lips at the brush of his against her skin. For a minute she doesn't, or perhaps can't stop him, but finally she does speak, in that soft whisper. "Peter…As much as I would absolutely love to continue this…even right here…we should stop. For now." Must include that qualifier! Her hand lifts from his chest, resting lightly on his cheek. "But we'll continue sometime, and I'll make sure that you don't have any doubts."

The moment that inundation of temptation is replaced with even a modicum of sensible notions, Peter breathes out a whine of breath before jerking his hands away from Melissa, then subtly and slowly slinking out of her reach, leaving her fingertips to trail across his cheek as she maintains their position while he backs away. "I— I'm sorry." Peter emphasizes sharply in a huff of breath, wiping one hand over his mouth. "I— I shouldn't have— that was— "

Brown eyes are wide, Peter shakes his head and clears his throat, smoothing one hand down over the front of his jacket. "I should— go." Every hitch of his voice comes with a hesitant step back and away. "I'm— " His brows scrunch together again, "I'm so sorry for— that."

Melissa makes a small sound that can only be from disappointment when he moves away, and his apology has her brows shooting up in surprise. "You're…wait, what are you apologizing for? In case you didn't notice, I was very much enjoying myself. And if I didn't want to be the only woman in your head, I'd still be enjoying myself. And probably would've been short some clothes before too much longer," she says, sounding and looking a mix between exasperated and amused. Probably more amused, though.

She pushes away from the wall to move towards him, but she doesn't touch him this time. "Never apologize with me for anything like what just happened. If I minded, I wouldn't have kissed you. Or said I wanted one more kiss. Or I would've pushed you away when you pinned me against the wall." She smiles, warm and reassuring. "But go," she says gently. "I know you need to think some things over. Just remember what I said, hmm? And don't let yourself feel guilty." The smile and voice goes a little teasing, "And don't avoid me, hmm?"

Still keeping a hand over his mouth, Peter's brows furrow together and his throat works up and down in a more quiet swallow than before. The look Peter fixes Melissa is a conflicted one, part overwhelmed with guilt from what they'd just done, and part frustrated at himself for ever having been weak enough to let it happen. It just goes to show, he still has issues with control. When the cell phone in his jacket pocket vibrates, he practically jumps out of his skin, reaching for it with fumbling grace, drawing it out from his pocket and flipping it open awkwardly.

"Hello?" It's a bit sharp of a greeting, and Peter snaps a look up to Melissa as he answers it. "What? Uh, y— yeah. Yeah sure, that's fine. I'm not too far away." Dark eyes wander back to Melissa, and Peter's brows furrow. "Yeah I'll get a cab and be right over. See ya, Abby."

When the phone flips shut, Peter's jaw tenses and he takes a step back again. "I'll— see you around." He awkwardly mutters, backpedaling away from Melissa and towards the entrance to the club, banging into that ladder he'd almost smashed into all night with a clatter, fumbling a hand up to stop it from falling over, and then jerkily makes his way towards the door again.

Melissa was right about one thing tonight, he didn't have to apologize to her; Overall, he wasn't.

He was apologizing to Kaylee.

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