Debatable, whether the rest of the evening would be civil or not. After all, their particular demons were albatrosses hung around their necks.

Peter's smile remained fixed on his face, unendingly pleasant. He stood, winding his way through Chris's apartment without a second word. Not towards the bedroom, but to the kitchen. When he returned, it was with a fruit knife in hand, Peter flipping it in the air a couple of times before he sat down again.

But rather than occupy the armchair again, he dropped down beside Chris, the sofa cushions sinking beneath his weight. Reaching for the grapefruit, Peter started to quarter it, the blade flashing in the light as it sliced through the fruit. "I'll pick it up before I leave."

It wasn't going anywhere. His eyes drift back to Chris. "Would you prefer a spoon, or should I remove the rind?"