Peter catches it in his good arm.

"Thanks, Alec."

He's probably said it a half-dozen times since this morning, but it's worth saying again. Peter watches as Alec disappears into his room and shuts the door, then looks down at the tracer in his hand.

He closes his fingers around it, then yawns, stretching out his still-not-great legs.

Alec might have not been right about AI, but maybe he was right about taking a nap.