More words had been on the tip of his tongue, more excuses and self-recriminations, a nervous energy thrumming through him as Peter tried to sort out whether he actually wanted Robin there or how ridiculous he was truly being. When she said his name so strongly, a quality to her voice he couldn't ignore, he froze.

"Okay," he said after a long moment. That closing of the gap between them, the hand on his shoulder, it had sent his mind temporarily blank. It wasn't confusion, but a brief and overwhelming moment of... of, well, he wasn't sure but it really felt like relief. He shook his head quickly and spun on his heel. Kitchen had the dining room table in it, but—oh, right, the dish still on the floor—living room would be better. He wavered a bit, a slight limp to his step, but led her to the room with hardly enough room for a sofa, coffee table, TV and a fold-out chair. All of a sudden, he didn't really know what to try and expect anymore and he gestured helplessly toward the couch. "It's not the best, but... make yourself at home, um, Robin."