Darker London

Thomas could tell the second he walked in the door, that Peter was in a terrible mood. Not only did he look visibly thinner than he had a week ago, there were dark circles under his eyes; his face twisted with annoyance. "Er," Thomas paused around the door frame, his hand still in Stephie's. He had already been dreading this conversation, and now Peter looked like he wanted to throw every single person he'd ever met through a window.

"Hey," Tasha said, catching sight of Thomas, Stephie and Deirdre as they entered the room. She rose to greet them, looking apologetic. "Dad's been uhm- I think the best way to put it is 'verbally sparring'? - with the doctors and nurses for the past hour. They just left."

"They're being dicks," Peter insisted from his hospital bed.

"I rather think everyone in this room was being a dick," Tasha corrected him.

"Do- Should we come back a different day?" Thomas asked, worriedly. This was the most coherent Peter had been in a week, but what if bringing up the past now only made things worse.

"Please don't go," Peter spoke up. "I'll try really hard not to be a dick to you. You're not trying to medicate me against my will."