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[It seems the bouncy, eager aura from earlier in the feed has vanished quite a bit in her presence. It's both a blessing and a curse for Peggy, seems like; her strong and no-nonsense sort of aura certainly got her the coordinates to the kid, but now that she's here the drunk wallflower stares at his feet and fidgets with his sleeves, shame creeping across his face. Closed-off and mortified and embarrassed, and —

And he clears his throat, resisting the urge to sniff himself.]

You didn't have to — I coulda' came down there instead?