“Yeah, yeah, yeah… and then the great Cthulhu rose out of the water and all went to Hell…” said Tina. “I’ve heard it a thousand times, dude. I know how you’re afraid of the ocean.”

Peter's gaze narrowed, irritation flickering in the depths of his eyes like a storm brewing on a distant shore. Sharp and relentless, Tina's words felt like waves crashing against a jagged coastline. She prodded and teased, each remark a pebble skipping across the surface of his resolve.

“I was rescued,” Peter corrected. “…And no, Cthulhu wasn’t there.” He shifted his gaze down to his feet, countered . “And it’s not fear,” Peter countered, his voice steadfast against the swirling doubt. “I just don’t trust it.”
Tina’s response was swift and cutting, her words honed like a harpoon aimed at the heart of his apprehension. “Fear masquerading as distrust,” she declared, her insight a beacon cutting through the fog of Peter's defenses.

“You can't hide from it, Peter. It's as clear as day.”

A wry smile danced upon Peter's lips, a fleeting flicker of amusement amidst the tumult of their exchange. “Perhaps psychology isn't my forte,” his tone laced with irony. “But facing our fears? That's where true bravery lies.”

Tina’s sideways glance held a silent...