Peter found that hiding away in his guest house wasn't always the most pleasent thing. He didn't know how to cook anything, and the thought of ordering out for three meals a day seemed a bit exessive. In the end, he tended to order out every other day and munch on it a little bit at a time, which was probably intensely unhealthy but then again so was talking to Liz when she was in a mood. And she still was. When Peter had gone to the main part of the house to see if he had any mail, Liz had slammed the door in his face despite the fact that the house did belong to the both of them. Peter hadn't liked that very much. Now he was sulking in the guest house, ignoring his grumbling stomach and wishing he had someone to talk to.
( Not so much talking as screaming... )
( Not so much talking as screaming... )