[ His gaze flits up to her, flinty and a little— well. Not quite dangerous, not quite threatening, but something broaching perilously close. ]

Don't touch it.

[ Even Peter knows that it's hard to say if it's old habits turning his voice cold or if it's whatever compulsion has come coupled with the items from the vault. He falters a little, taking a steadying breath and scrubbing at his face.

Sounding a little more like himself, ]

Just— let me look it over. I haven't even had time to see if it's actually mine or just a really convincing replica.