He sighs, looking down at their linked hands, that quiet selfish part of him wishing for the infirmary, the mansion, New York, wishing that whatever happened to bring them here.... hadn't.

"You don't owe me anything," he says. "But you probably aren't going to listen to that either."

That's when Peter comes back, his gaze flicking between the two of them in silence before he says, "Astrid is bringing Walter. Broyles will probably beat them here." He smiles, just a little. "I don't think anyone but Walter believed me when I said you were here."