"At least," Peter huffs with a murmur of amusement as the lighter clicks and flame flares to life. He sucks in air, and the cherry red ember flares a little brighter as the paper catches, burns. He sucks it in, holds it for a breath and then exhales from almost pouted lips as he slips the cigarette from his mouth.

Transformation was in his blood. Turning skin into something else. This isn't his transformation, but give him a shove and he seems to take to it well enough. He pauses, cigarette dangling between slender fingers as his pale blue eyes look at Roman with a hint of mirth, a tinge of amusement.

"Lydia said I should show off my legs. And nah, not unless you're offering." Pause just long enough for his lips to curve wicked. "Put you in a dress to go with that mouth." And yet, somehow, that joke didn't feel the same when he was standing here in heels and a skirt. Fuck this shit.