Peter extends a hand to catch the robe, but succeeds mostly in just deflecting it from hitting his face. He kneels up and pulls it on while she's busy, and tries not to think about why he's here. The leering face of the vampire still looms in front of him when he stops concentrating on arguing with Lucy.

He scoots up against the headboard, putting the reassuring solidity of its bars and the wall behind him before he reaches for the tea he miraculously failed to knock over with his arse.