[ Peter shakes his head, 'no', suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about the tear in his sleeve and the cut on his arm. The skin's already more or less healed itself, stitched itself back together, leaving an angry raw welt behind. It's no big deal though, and Peter shifts his movement, arms crossing over his chest to hide the cut. ]

Did you always have that thing? I mean, that sounds like a very Deerington-specific thing. And like ... yeah, I know we don't really know each other that well but -

[ 'But I don't remember you ever going full on Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho on me' is what he thankfully doesn't say. But he thinks it! Sort of. Well, he thinks it before he feels bad about it, and keeps his mouth tightly sealed. ]

I don't think you hurt anyone else, no. I mean, I know you didn't, so - like. It's okay, Gwen. It's okay. It's over now.