[ 'Who'?

It's not a question he entirely knows how to answer. He'd been thinking he was seeing strange things, strange people, for awhile now, but he could never be sure it was real, not even when one of them had confronted him, shouting, almost desperate in her passion --

Expel Peter

Another shudder ripples down his spine, this one without warning and violent, practically a convulsion that has his shoulders scrunching up and his back arching inwards as it works down through him, chest bumping slightly against the girl in the process. His breath is also an involuntary shudder, the sensation unpleasant and uncontrollable, a slow hiss that preludes his next words. ]

I don't know.

[ Helpful. But he really doesn't. There's no way to... explain it, what he'd seen, what he'd felt in that attic.

He lets go of her shoulder then when she squeezes his arm, but keeps it there in her grasp, not pulling away. It feels real, the squeeze. It is real.

This is real. ]

I mean, I'm--I'm not sure who. [ He at least tries to further explain. ] People I don't know. They're just after me for some reason. They want me. [ It's probably the most he's said since he woke up here, and it's borderline rambly with how choppy the sentences are, but the more he speaks, the more remembers how, even if his throat burns and makes his nose burn in turn.

At her words, he pauses, and what's whispered next is meant as a warning. The footsteps nearby sounded like one person, but even so... ]

There were a lot of them. They could all be here now.