"No," Peter said, simply. "This is your regret now. You get to keep it." His lips settled into a grin. "And I hope you live with it for a very, very long time."
He took his cell phone out of his pocket, fiddled with it for a moment, and then snapped a picture of Sam, with his black eyes, leaking tears, and the smudged remains of the moustache still on his face. "I know some people who would love to see you looking like this."