[ The question has Peter looking back at Varian, eyes widening slightly. The surprise steals his breath for a beat or two, long enough that he's too silent for maybe a little too long.

But then there's an exhale, a release of it, and he's answering softly. ]

Yeah, they were. It's okay, I don't— I don't mind talking about it.

[ He... doesn't. As weird and hard as it is, as much as there's something just as wounded thrumming under his own sternum. ]

They were uh... Wastes. [ Peter looks down to the graves again, one arm creeping up to loosely wrap around his middle, resting there. ]

You've seen them around too? [ The Wastes. He figures Varian must, to know to ask that question. ]