Man, Jesus. In Peter's bitchiest, most bitter moments, he wants to scream at Jason, maybe tell him how feeble his straight-acting attempts are sometimes. This one is so particularly full of shit that Peter nearly rolls his eyes. It's an avoidable argument if he manages to at least shove that one away. He also knows that Jason means well, and that he is trying with all of his available might, so he returns the gaze. Unsurprisingly, he softens under his lover's unfairly blue eyes.

It's not Peter but the Institution of St. Cecilia's that bumps that fragile moment out of balance, and when Peter hears who's called, his stomach flips with alarming speed before it drops down into the center of him. Jesus. His hand flies back to Jason's leg where it had been before and he squeezes his support. He doesn't know what to do, and though he doesn't know exactly why Master McConnell is calling, he knows what the end result will be. Peter is not prepared to see his boyfriend's soul crushed tonight. Jason's impending need coats Peter's consciousness like armor and he springs to his feet.

"I'll go with you," he says quickly. Immediately, it makes no sense -- actually, he's not even sure if that's an option -- but he also knows that he has to do something because... He has to. Maybe in a moment he'll be sitting down with Nadia as they both freak the hell out as Jason reluctantly retreats with the Sister keeping apace. He knows he can't protect Jason. So, he has to believe that there's Someone who can.