Peter jumps at the sound of the door slamming and drops the bottle in his hand. It shatters on the floor at his feet and he swears automatically, perfunctorily, in the moment before his brain kicks into gear and he addresses the more important issue at hand.

"Lucy." He shifts, frowning at the blood spatters in consternation, and takes a step forward. Glass crunches under his shoe, and he halts again, afraid she's going to dart right back out the door if he gets too close.