"Oh my god. Every day I learn about some new facet of his OCD, and I really hope he's just, like...I don't know, OCD Lite. So it bothers him, but we aren't going to give him a full-fledged breakdown, because after we replace the knives you absolutely have to show me his bathroom so we can put all the bottles out of order. Plus," Verity continues, walking backward toward the kitchen while talking to Peter. "I want to see if he uses something for male-pattern baldness. He's, what, mid-fifties? Ish? But his hair looks so good! His shampoo is probably made out of the blood of baby seals or something super exotic and expensive."

Verity stops Peter in the kitchen and grabs his hand, bringing their joined hands up between them.

"Also. We are taking this to our graves. We admit nothing. But if he breaks you down, because I'm sorry, Pete, you're kind of soft. If he gets you to break, you tell him this was a mission for respect. Swear on it."

She brings Peter's hand up to her mouth and smacks a kiss against his knuckles.

"You have to kiss my hand. It's less messier than a blood oath."