Peter slides down off the bottle of scotch, awkwardly trying to find his footing in the bottom of the basket when it's almost entirely taken up by the giant bottles. He jabs a hand at the plastic more as he's trying to get his balance than as a deliberate effort to do something about it, shoving a little point of the material outward.

"Fucking ridiculous," he mutters as the person outside does...something. Is he throwing rice? No, something metal. The fuck is that supposed to help? Except then his newfound friend is hauling back with something in his hand, and Peter ducks to heed his advice and goes crashing down into the bottom of the basket. "Shit--!"

He can't see who it is, but he can see more light now from where he lays with one leg sticking up into the air, and he can see the hands sawing away at the plastic.