There's a part of him that really honestly wonders if this is all truly happening, but usually... usually the brief moments of doubt and attack of the mind don't last so long. Still, he can't help the instinct, to be fearful and suspicious, to doubt and trust only what he knows. He has years of experience compiled into but a moment's time, with his own day added to it.

He knows, he knows.

One might normally look at a man digging around some plants to be entirely worrisome, but it's the sleeves and oh-so-familiar smell. His mouth goes dry, and he thinks of the things disguised as nurses, dragging down injured and dying men away, the hint of dried blood under their fingernails.

He breathes in, trying to steady his heart.

"Excuse me," Peter finally says. "What are you looking for?"

It's nothing, he prays. Nothing at all.