[ None of what Chris said is all that funny to Peter, and his answering laugh is another, not so deep version of his older self's not-actually-amused scoff. The embittered quality isn't so smoothed over and polished by life's natural rock tumbler. So eighteen year old idiots with hearts of gold are "made for this kind of thing," and maybe that would have been Derek, if Peter hadn't made little nephew get his hands dirty, but it would never have been Peter; it's always the bridesmaid for him. Talia is just too hard an act to follow.

He doesn't say any of that, not in any form. He may find this Chris Argent appealing for a few reasons, but he's kept his own counsel his entire life. That's not going to change based on one night's kindness and a vague supposition. ]

I doubt meeting him will be necessary. And Derek doesn't need to hurry, either. I'm pretty sure I know what happened. We can fix it tomorrow.

[ Now Peter finally cracks open an eye, tilting his head to look at Chris, and make sure he's paying attention to this part. ]

After breakfast.

[ Werewolf hanger is real, Chris. ]