It's... fine. You brought it back. I... threw it away again. Before it disappeared. Thought this time I'd thrown it somewhere I couldn't remember.

[ He studies the photo, seemingly unsure how to reply to Peter's suggestion.

Eventually, he tucks it away in the pocket of his pants, pressing his hand over the pocket like that will protect the battered picture. ]

Don't know how to be him any more. [ He lifts his hand, pressing it against the ruined half of his face, pushing against his temple, then against the teeth that show between his lips. ] Gonna kill me. The thing inside.