[He is almost careless in his answer; almost says the preserve, like the burned out husk of the Hale House doesn't exist along its path, surrounded by trees and shallow emptied graves. He catches himself only because he thinks about it, the rot slightly worse than it had been two years ago when Peter clawed Kate's throat almost out.

But then again, how long can he dance around the reality of Peter's future, here? It's just not practical.]

We can head to the preserve, if you feel up to it. I could make a call, find out where the other you spends his off time these days. They might not know, but, if you wanted to nose around your stuff ... [If anyone would know where Peter's new place is, would be Malia.] My routine's out the window, here. Might be something at the old Hale place, but it's not -- as a warning, you probably won't like it.