For a moment, Sarah just looked at him as though she were suddenly worried he was a little unwell, which wasn't entirely accurate as she knew Peter couldn't exactly get sick. She'd expected him to give his name, not something with all the sound of, as he'd just said, a tongue twister.
What more, there was no familiarity in the touch. Even with him in his disguise, touching Peter still carried its own little rush of something, a feeling that matched the connection they shared. And that wasn't there, even for the brief, brisk handshake that hadn't lingered as she also would have expected, game or not.
She shifted in her chair, their heads closer – not touching, what with the table between them, but close – and then projected the thought. Peter? The game is cute, but really, is something going on?