"you look good," is the first thing peter says to her when they're alone. 'alone' meaning edmund and lucy are standing some distance away because peter wants to talk to susan just the two of them.

"thanks," she replies, voice flat. "i can't say the same for you."

the conversation proceeds as she predicted: there are reasons and justifications instead of apologies, entreaties and promises based on nothing concrete, and yet more than once susan feels her heart teeter on the verge of giving in. "su," he would plead, and then she would want to reach across and take his hand, or touch his face, because this is peter, her older brother and oldest friend, who knows her as no one else does, who has loved her as no one else does, and loves her still.

susan says instead, "i'm tired of this shit."

"i know i'm not your favorite person right now," says peter, "but things will be different, when i get out--"

"oh, peter. don't lie."

more than a few times during the conversation, she notices peter's eyes alight on the love bites on her neck, but he doesn't ask any questions so susan doesn't offer any explanations.

then, time's up.

"i love you," peter blurts out as he's being led away.

susan smiles, a little sadly. "i love you too."

and he's gone, and she leaves, and when lucy slips her hand into hers and squeezes, susan squeezes back. no one says anything until they're in the car and on the road; lucy turns on the radio and edmund declares, with vehemence, that this station sucks.