[ Eventually you just roll with the weird shit, huh? Peter is well and used to that. ]

Guess so. Ground must be extra good for this or something. Flowers don't just grow anywhere... they're supposed to be different seasons for different ones, I think?

[ Peter turns towards the wind, the sweet smell of flowers catching on the wind. It's crisp and gentle. It reminds him way too much of his mom. ]

It smells like home. Or I dunno, smells like homes do in the movies. If you could smell 'em, I mean.