"My very sophisticated way," Peter repeated, clearly amused. "Is that what you think of me?"

He watched Chris eat the orange slice, leaving the remainder of it on the table as he got up to retrieve a glass, pouring himself a couple fingers of scotch. Peter appreciated the finer things in life; what of it? (But forget about that quality over quantity nonsense-- why not have the best of both worlds?) The liquor might not have any effects on him, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the taste of it.

And appreciate it he does, the scotch going down his throat like golden fire, leaving a brief flare of warmth in his stomach. Smooth. He set his drink directly on the coffee table after a second of failing to find a coaster, and letting ennui seize him. It wasn't his table.

"Well, at least you have some taste when it comes to a good drink, even if it's lacking in other areas." See: his terrible Target shirt.