[Peter scoots over, and Carlisle, after a moment's hesitation, does take the offered seat, casting his eyes upon the rest of the party-goers as he takes a deep breath, as though trying to taste the barbecue from smell alone. His drink sweats against his gloves as he turns the glass in his fingers, using it more as a distraction for his nervous habits than an actual drink.]

It goes, I suppose. I am adjusting, thanks to your encouragement. I did mean to contact you and apologize for being... out of sorts when we met. It had been a long day.

[Longer when one doesn't sleep.]