["Okay" might depend on one's interpretation of the word. He's not physically harmed, and still has an appropriate number of arms and legs. There's an intensity to him that Peter might recognize, the spark of focus and rush that cancels out all other things. He's writing on the edges of schematics, following the familiar path into the kitchen without looking up for anything. Even when he sets the pad down on a counter, he doesn't look away from it, simply reaching up to grope in a cabinet with the hand that isn't writing. Sugar first, then a bog of cookies. Two boxes of cookies. And then a plate of those little scones Jemma fancies. That'll probably do.
He's thoroughly oblivious to the eyes of others, though. He doesn't acknowledge anything in his path that isn't work-or-food-related.]
no subject
He's thoroughly oblivious to the eyes of others, though. He doesn't acknowledge anything in his path that isn't work-or-food-related.]