If she thinks he doesn't see that flicker of fear in her eyes, sliding across her expression like oil over water, she must think he's nowhere near as observant as he actually is. If she hadn't jerked her wrist from his grasp, he would have let her go, but he doesn't have the chance.

He really doesn't have any idea of what had gone in when she'd been practically trapped inside her own mind, with Peter unconsciously controlling her every move, heavily influencing every thought that passed through as though nothing were her own anymore.

His expression softens for a brief moment, brows furrowing, and he lets his hand drop back down to his side. "No, I don't," he says flatly. "But I would if you actually talked to me about it instead of throwing insults around."