"What makes you think I have one?" One part bullshit and another part guilt. They share so much. Is Roman's own private habit as apparent as the ones he puts up his nose? He grins and drops his eyes. Guilty, guilty, guilty. They stop at where he knows the fabric of the towel isn't being lifted by legs. A shift to the side and then he reaches for his wallet. Slipped right behind a null and void ID is a little metal blade.

"I'm gonna want it back." Roman holds it up between two fingers like it's a card trick. Again he's looking into Peter's eyes. His goddamn face. His own long limbs are folded and it's not making a very comfortable amount of room in his fitted trousers.