[ For a few seconds, Peter just stares at her, lips pressed into a tight line and eyebrows drawn together. There's something too weirdly— flat about the way she says those words, like it's instinct, and weird, directionless flicker of anger licks the back of his sternum.

(A common occurrence, these days, ever since—

Everything. All of that. The stuff Peter's trying not to think about.)

His shoulders sag as he heaves out a sigh, and after a second of deliberation, he lowers himself down to sit beside Mantis.

With a patience he doesn't quite feel but that he can apparently fake, ]

Are you actually sorry, or are you just saying you're sorry to get me off your back?

Like, do you actually get why I'm pissed right now?