This close, there's no way that Peter can avoid seeing the movement of tiny tentacles behind those bars of teeth, dozens of them wavering like those of an anemone, from the roof of his mouth, his cheeks, his tongue. He lets his hand drop. Studies Peter, then rolls his eye over to stare at Drake, before flicking his attention back to the boy.

"You're young. Young. That's a shame." To Drake, he says, "Isn't that a shame?"