Peter doesn't respond; he's got plenty to be grateful for himself, but he feels like he's spent a lot of time talking already. For now, all he really wants to do is enjoy this quiet moment with Liz, far away from the Madonna Inn and all the people who apparently have a vested interest in his sex life. He doesn't know when they'll get another opportunity to be alone like this; there's always so many people mulling around the inn that it's hard to do anything without risking someone noticing.

So Peter pulls her closer, so her body is touching hers and his arm can shift in just the right way so that his hand is pressed against the back of his neck against that little place where Liz's hair starts, that place that he really, really likes. And for the time being, Peter realizes as they kiss, he's not really worried about anything. Not about how anyone else feels about him, not about the homework he's supposed to turn into Kitty tomorrow but hasn't even started because he spent so much time goofing off on the station, not about Ms. Rasputin and why she dislikes him so much. Right now, there's only one thing he can focus on, and that's Liz. Liz who loves him, and who he loves, too.