[ It's such an... odd, discomforting thought now. Peter isn't entirely sure what "home" represents for him anymore. His memory is... polluted; he so often loses himself, loses track of what is reality and what isn't. What happened to him back there, what happened to his... family.

Deep down is the weight of knowledge that they are all dead and he has no one left. But it's layered in the fog of his unstable mindset, his strange memories, of the dark thing within him. Perhaps it was all a nightmare. Just some bad, awful dream. He doesn't know. Perhaps he'll never know.

Peter slowly stops eating, eyes drifting down to look at Diarmuid's robes, quiet and calm and thinking through the odd ache in his chest as he listens to the other boy speak of his aches.

He's sitting here having lunch with someone kind, and he'd like to forget about the dark things for awhile, but he... can't. He can't. Even now as he's sitting here, he feels an odd shudder just there under his skin, one that makes him shift uncomfortably. Like a reminder that all of this is going to be short-lived. ]

If you're from a monastery, you.... you believe in God? Is that the kind of monk you are?

[ A beat, before he adds: ] Can you tell if someone's evil?