"Lydia.. took me shopping," Peter supplies by way of explanation, shifting a little uneasily. She's still a little shaky in the heels, but they definitely do nice things for her legs, as Lydia was quick to point out. She doesn't know what else to say, and so she just looks up at him, Roman still markedly taller than her even in those heels. She still has all those things they talked about bouncing in her head, about what she wants, what she can put up with and fuck those are hard things to think about, so clearly the answer is to just... not. Or at least as little as she can manage.

"You going to share?" It's an easy question -- at least it should be. Somehow, the cant of two slender fingers, painted nails for his cigarette seems somehow almost vulgar, sensual in a way it isn't usually. But, right now she really wants a smoke, and they've been sharing cigarettes for as long as they've known one another.

Peter is still Peter, and so of course she plays at pretending not to notice.