"Oh, yeah," Peter says, as if just remembering that he had scribed this down.

"Uh, nothing," he continues. "I mean, nothing in particular. I just thought--"

He swallows, before he finally completes his sentence: "I just thought we could talk." A beat. "About stuff."

And it's only after the words have left his mouth that Peter wants to facepalm. So much for looking cool. Ms. Rasputin probably just thought he was an awkward dork. And Peter was pretty sure she'd be right.