Peter didn't say anything, not wanting to interrupt the woman's grief. He'd last seen her as just a girl, but she had changed now, in one of the ways only explicable by the insanity of Los Angeles, to a woman who was as old, if not older, than he was.
Even if she was still just as stubborn.
Peter waited quietly in the doorway. He had paid his respects to Lavender. He had said his apologies and his goodbyes. Now it was her turn.