"What? Seriously?" Peter's pulse jumped. With all the hullabaloo about Luxord and webbing and things, he had entirely forgotten about the basement. Way to go, Parker. "How did you find it? When are you going down there? Does Indy-"

"Why, if it isn't young Tyler!"

And that was when his heart stopped dead.

Peter knew that voice. Eyes blown wide, he turned a one eighty and came face to face with Stein just as he pushed his head back into place with a revolting crack. He tried not to flinch. He really did. Please stop being such a freak.

His silent prayer would, of course, fall on deaf ears.

"...Yeah. Uh. Fancy that." What he really wanted to do was get at least three aisles between him and Stitchazoid and start chucking every Cabbage Patch doll he could find his way, but such things were generally frowned upon in polite society. Instead, Peter did the proper thing.

"Scott? This is Dr. Franken Stein." He paused. "...My therapist."

It was physically painful to admit. He was fairly certain his spleen just ruptured from the strain. If he was lucky he would hemorrhage out in the next five seconds and Scott and Dr. Stein could make polite conversation over his newly fallen corpse.

A man could only dream.