Wrong number :/~~Spider-Man

Basically my experience in Social Interactions

Footsteps. Yes. Think, back on track. Someone is coming, Peter couldn't run, this isn't his house, and he was fairly certain he just heard a gun click. So all in all, not the worst situation he'd been in! Sure, it's not ideal, but Peter doubt it topped that one time he'd mistaken the raccoon he'd named Bastard Cardboards for a cat he was looking for in the dark. Nothing was wrong with the raccoon, but the owner he was returning it to was not the happiest camper. Didn't pass the vibe check at all.

Stop! Thinking! about! that! now! Irrelevant and useless! There is a man! Or a woman! Or someone else! Peter didn't know! Outside with a gun or something!

Oh, what Peter would give to not be stupid in situations it was needed.

Peter was now aware that the footsteps had stopped. He couldn't hear anything at all. Yeah, he could feel the tingling of his increasingly obvious danger warning signal going off, but psssshh. Who cares about the built-in alarm system designed specifically for alarming him of danger, right?

Round two of totally good decisions he could make commencing in three.. two.. one..

Slowly, he opened the door.

To be fair, what should he have expected? What, in all the heavens, should he have guessed would happen with the sudden halt of traceable hertz levels in his ears? Who, in the whole universe, could know that the sudden decrease in vibrations recognized as sound could lead to this? A gun, to his face?

The audacity.

Oh, and another completely unpredictable conclusion no one would've even gotten near to assuming; the man, the legend, the absolute madlad of a dude, Reginald, was the carrier of the weapon.

Swear to Thor, both of them obtained the ability to make a shocked face faster than a certain Leopard Gecko named Mulan could bite a spoon instead of the mealworm she was aiming for. It was a synchronized action, the old man pulling his second arm to his gun just as Peter slammed the door again.

"Mr Parker, I apologize immensely!" Reginald shouted through the door, lowering his gun as quickly as he'd raised it.

Peter was having none of it, his heart beating too fast for him to hear the older man. He was too tired to be dealing with this. This was none of his business. This was that kind of thing you let the cops deal with.

Peter groaned as his morals and normal personality slipped back into his head. He can't just leave now? Not when something that he isn't involved in in the slightest was happening??

"Mr Parker, sir, I thought you were and intruder" Reginald tried to explain, "please open them door so we can speak".

There wasn't much debate in his head, not much of a choice was given. Peter opened it again, the buzz he'd ignored before dulling itself. He still stood his guard though, not so happy at what'd just happened.

Reginald walked in with his hands up, looking at Peter as if he was a frightened cat. Peter felt like he should be trying to resemble one of those more, because any normal person would probably be a bit freaked out after having a gun held to their head, but that wasn't on the top of his list right now.

"Why does a butler need a gun?" Was probably the first question he should've asked in this situation, but there were clearly other matters more important to Peter right now.

"Why are all the lights on all the time in this house?"

Reginald had to wait a full second to process the stupid that tired-and-in-pain-Peter was radiating like uranium and thorium on earth's surface.

"Pardon me, sir?" Reginald's hands lowered slightly, eyes squinting as if it'd make him understand better.

"Sorry, wrong question, why are you chasing me with a gun?" Peter corrected himself, a flawless recovery.