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He could just about always use more time to pout, honestly. And he might be mentally scheduling in some time to brood on top of it as Peter illustrates how easily he defies all laws of physics. He's always known the young ones were brilliant, but that brilliance seems to have grown into something that feels suspiciously like competition now. It's an ugly feeling, but he's been having a lot of those lately.

"Clever," he praises through gritted teeth. "And entirely possible. I've had them send over materials to work on an approximation, but I'm certain someone of your qualifications will be able to innovate with what's available."

However, absolutely none of this tension stops him from fussing over the device in his hands. It's still very cool and he's not so deep in his feelings that he's distracted from that fact.

Entirely possible? What a weird choice of words. Peter had just shown him a live demonstration, of course it was possible. Physics applied to him just like anyone else. Just because he could swing from these webs didn't mean he was immune to the mathematics of his arcs any more than he was immune to gravity when he let go of said webs.

"I appreciate you making the accommodations for me." Even if Fitz was kind of being a brat about it. "Just show me what you're working with and I'll MacGyver whatever I need." He's done it before.

Physics that Fitz hasn't broken himself are supposed to be immutable until he's had his way with them. The only person allowed to be smarter than him is Jemma. That's just the rule.

"We've set supplies for you at that station there." He gestures broadly to a corner where only one desk is clean enough to be unclaimed. "It might be a bit chilly, though. The last person who worked out of there had an elemental powerset and I haven't been able to bring it back up to room temperature since she's been gone."

Peter followed Fitz's gesture to the mostly empty desk and walks over to it. Weirdly enough, it was a bit drafty, and he looked up to make sure he wasn't standing underneath a vent or something.

"Great, this'll work just fine." There were some cabinets next to the desk that he automatically opened, taking out a few containers that would work for making the fluid. He had already seen the supplies nearby, and would go over to those next. Even if he didn't have any plans, he'd memorized the formula ages ago. He could make webbing in his sleep.

"Ice powers, I'm guessing," he says, to try and keep up the conversation with Fitz, such as it was. "At least you don't have to worry about me making it too spidery in here."

"Largely, yes. Doctor Snow is brilliant, but it was difficult to maintain reasonable heating in the cooler months." He at least doesn't seem to have an issue with Peter exploring the space. A fragile ego and overt jealousy doesn't seem to extend into anything close to intellectual sabotage.

"Spiders would still probably be better than Doctor Isley's work with plants. She seemed fond of repotting things with the most awful vines."

"Dr. Snow had ice powers. Talk about nominative determination." Some people seemed to have their fate all set out for them. Peter dropped down into a squat to check out the contents of the bottom shelf of the cabinet, but it seemed to be mostly cleared out. "Oh, that's nice. They did leave some cobwebs for me."

He popped back up and went into the desk drawers this time, taking out a pencil and pad of paper. "Plants, too? Sounds like you were building up your own league of mad scientists."

He cracks a smile at the comment about Caitlin's name. Peters are so effortlessly clever. "It's probably not worth some people's time to bother with disguising their identities, all things considered."

Peter seems to be taking to the space we'll enough. At least it was left in good condition.

"Dr. Isley was quite brilliant, actually. But one of her friends was quite mad, and insisted on spending time here. Harley made it impossible to get anything done."

It's noted fondly, though. For a short time, they had a wonderful little work family here.

"Yeah, I can see that." He's still uncomfortable with putting his identities together, but knowing his opinion wasn't the only one. If you fell along the mad scientist spectrum, you probably wanted everyone to know about your PhD.

"I'm guessing Harley wasn't a scientist." Friends taking up precious lab time seemed like something Fitz would not tolerate well. "Well, you won't have to worry about that with me. I'm pretty sure most of the friends I've met here would rather being anywhere else in Hell before sitting there watching me mix fluid."

As he talks, he starts jotting down ingredients and formulas. Should he make a thicker batch? Would the longer-lasting adhesives come in more handy here than conventional?

Though that tended to be that case, Fitz is generally mum about his own credentials. Jemma's the one who snaps to reciting how many degrees lie between them. Fitz finds it all a little pretentious, especially here. They're all colleagues. That tension from before is probably an uncharacteristic blip. Probably.

"She was a disaster, but was excellent when it came to taking care of Little Mack. I suppose it wasn't all bad." He notes it as he rummages in his desk for a smaller microscrewdriver. Everything about this webshooter is practically microscopic and there's a particular thrill about the discovery process.

"Little Mack? Was that Isley's version of Audrey II?" Peter quips as he continues writing down notes to himself. He's vaguely aware that he left the other webshooter on Fitz's desk, but doesn't know the fate that's in store for it.

Now that he has a plan of attack, he moves to find a few beakers and base chemicals from the shelving units he'd seen earlier. This wouldn't take as much substitution as he thought.

"So, you said that Tony works down here sometimes, right? Any insights on what mechanical components are unclaimed?" He hasn't forgotten his idea of building a few Spider Bots for spying purposes, but tracers were another option he was considering. Both would require a space for electrical engineering.

"I think I might've preferred a fictional maneating plant to the sorts of things that used to be potted here." Pamela seemed to think it was funny when Fitz expressed discomfort with the developments, and he never really mustered the courage to tell her not to do whatever she wanted.

"Tony tends to keep his projects limited to that space." He nods toward a corner that's fairly overflowing with (whatever it is Tony is actually working on - it's been a minute since I checked with the player). And then he pushes away from his desk and steps to a waist-high structure that seems like an oversized doghouse and pulls open the thin plastic door.

"This is Little Mack. But do keep your voice down. He's sleeping."

Should Peter check within, he'll find a fluffy blue creature curled into a ball, looking a little like the sci-fi cross between a kitten and a toddler. Perfectly normal laboratory mascot. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

Well that confirmed it. Peter didn't want to know what was worse than man-eating plants. He focuses instead on what appears to be the Stark Corner, lots of things with metal plates and wires and other gizmos all shoved together in a haphazard mess. It was very intimidating, and also very Tony.

He walks over to the corner, hands on hips while he examines the pile. "Yeah, that's an avalanche waiting to happen. Maybe I'll just work on webs right now and then ask the man himself what scraps I can get my paws on."

Peter then turns to see that there's some kind of animal sleeping inside the doghouse, and he bends down to check it out. "Wow, that is the most merchandise-able lab pet I've ever seen. Did he come with the place?"

"If there's anything you need, just mention it. I can translate for the demons and get it here faster." He offers it without a trace of irony. From his perspective, it's simply a matter of working smarter.

"And he isn't a pet," he sniffs defensively. "He's the result of a magical accident some months ago. There used to be hundreds of them, but apparently some of the staff found that they were...." He wrinkles his nose. "Delicious. Little Mack is one of the few survivors. His cognitive abilities are limited, but he's eager to help. Simple tasks are best. He's quite fond of soldering."

"Wow, that's quite the offer. I think I see all but about three of the compounds I need, but two of them I can sub out for something else." The webbing wouldn't be exactly like home, and he wouldn't have the custom webs for special occasions, but he'd survive, especially since there was nothing to swing from here.

Peter had no snappy comeback for that info on the creatures. That had to be terrifying, to see your kind eaten by demons, so he resolved to be nice to this one.

"Well, I might just leave him be, then. Sounds like he's had a rough time lately."

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