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Peter's never really looked for Desire before.

He knows what it is to want something so much that it's an actual hunger, a physical ache. But meeting Desire is something else. Despite having met it twice while it was incognito, Peter has never seen Desire AS Desire.

Perhaps a peace offering would help.

Peter goes over to the bar and requests something suitable for Desire of the Endless. A glass and a decanter appear almost instantly, along with a note bearing a name that nearly makes him choke. Out of curiosity, he requests something suitable for himself. This time he shoves the note in his pocket, determined not to read it until he finds Desire.

Holding the glasses and the decanter, he slowly makes his way through the bar, scanning each table and booth as he goes.

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*And isn't that curious? Merely looking for Desire can sometimes bring it about. The booth Peter had originally thought empty has an occupant the moment the drinks are set on the table, Desire lounging on the half of the booth not already claimed as Peter's.

Desire blinks once, slow and lionesque.*

Peter.
This week is full of surprises.
What do you need, sir?

"Just to talk, if that's all right. Talking, not arguing."

Peter glances at Desire's drink. "I do hope your drink is all right. I asked the bar for something suitable for you. Apparently its idea of something suitable for you was Foreplay on Neutral Ground. I don't know what it considered suitable for me."

He digs the note out of his pocket, and his jaw drops slightly ajar. "It seems that what the bar thinks is suitable for me is an Extended Jail Sentence."

It's so perfectly appropriate that he can't help laughing.

*Desire joins in the laughter, amused by the bar's selection -- and isn't this neutral ground, after all? -- Desire had never entirely noticed the bar had a sense of humor before. Grinning, Desire nods and sits up properly, stirring the drink before it.*

"I'd like to talk to you, Peter. Have something on your mind, perhaps, or will we let the conversation go where it likes?"

"Well, first off," says Peter calmly as he sips his drink--which tastes surprisingly good for a mixture of Jack Daniels, Southern Comfort and tequila--"I did want to say thank you."

He pauses to see how Desire takes his comment. He's relatively certain that of all the things he could have said, Desire was not expecting this.

And Desire wasn't, one eyebrow raising in response: The Endless isn't one to suffer loss of composure for long, not under these circumstances.

"You're welcome," Desire nearly purrs, still grinning and taking a sip from Peter's offering, "but I haven't really given you anything. I simply played on a desire that was already there."

"I know that," says Peter, giving the Endless a patient look. "That's what you do. That's what you ARE.

"And of course you haven't given me anything. Desire doesn't. Desire makes people want to get something. Or someone. If you handed us what we wanted, we'd--we'd be mindless lumps, just waiting for everything to be pulled out of a cosmic magician's black hat.

"We wouldn't value anything that came that easily. You make us work for what we want. And yes, it hurts, and yes, it's hard, and no, we don't always get what we want, and sometimes it's bloody impossible. But you make us want to try grabbing for the brass ring. And sometimes it works. And that can be wonderful. It isn't always wonderful--people have the worst knack of wanting what's bad for them--but it can be.

"Now, you didn't give me Liz. Or redemption. But you did make me want to be the kind of man she saw me as. You gave me the chance to love someone who saw me as I am and still loved me. And if it didn't last forever--well, as they say in Ireland, we had the days."

Peter lifts his glass to Desire in a silent toast.

Desire raises his own drink and clinks the glass against Peter's, less silently returning the toast. "You never cease to surprise me, Peter -- You're not all that you seem. That's one of the reasons why I like you."

Desire sits in silence a few moments: Perhaps after the week's events, she's surprised that no one is about to take a swing. He looks speculatively at Peter in the quiet, and sets the drink aside, fingertip tracing the wet circle on the table into a heart.

"Peter. I want to ask you a favor."

If Peter's assessment of Desire bewildered the Endless, Desire's request for a favour floors Peter. He is confused into silence for several minutes.

At last he speaks. "I don't know what kind of favour I could do for you. But--I belong to you, the way I once belonged to Lady Del. And I think you know me well enough to know what I am and am not willing to do. So...yes."

"I have no doubt you're willing, Peter. That's why I'm asking you." Desire laughs mirthlessly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat: The Neutral Ground returns to hand, and Desire drinks before continuing.

"Talk to Elizabeth. Tell her whatever you like -- That you called me, that we talked and I came as myself, that I have not lied to you -- but please. Talk to her."

Desire raises his eyes, something unpleasant glittering there behind the gold. "I tire of our 'conversations,' and it's clear you know her better than I. If she presses the issue, I will not be responsible for my actions."

"Yes, of course I'll talk to her." Peter swallows some of his Extended Jail Sentence. "Mind you, I don't know what your conversations have been about. I know that Liz thinks that you are playing games with her--I did briefly yesterday too, but I spoke to your youngest sister about you, though, because I wasn't sure I was seeing you fairly.

"Del said a couple of things that I didn't expect. That sometimes you make things happen, and sometimes you watch. And that you're not just cruel, but kind. Or both at the same time. Or neither. And that got me thinking about what you do, and what you are.

"I'd like to tell Liz--and to convince her--that you're not what she fears."

The irony that it took Delirium to clear the issue up is not lost on Desire.
Desire fleetingly wishes he could have a look in his brother's Book about now: She'd like to believe Peter can convince Liz, but isn't as certain as he is.

Desire still has to try, casting his nets and seeing what comes back: It's inevitable.

"Thank you," Desire says, nodding. "I won't forget, Peter."

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