Look at you, Peggy, I would have had to've been an idiot not to.

"I can believe that," I reply quietly, then sit back and run my hand briefly over the back of my neck.

"I'm-" I make a small, barely audible frustrated sound, dropping my hand and smearing graphite somewhere, because there's a streak of it across my palm.

"I'm not him, Peggy. I'm sorry. I wish I were." For her sake, at least. I hope she doesn't find me disappointing by comparison.