Nahhh. [ Jeff backs out into the doorway, then holds up his hands, thumbs and index fingers pointed at each other, as if he's framing a shot of Peter on the bed. ] Still got your clothes on. No puke anywhere in sight. You look plenty dignified!

[ Okay, that's enough of that. Time to start the coffee and make a hangover sandwich! Cook up some... bacon... (please don't be cursed. It's not cursed, right, it can't be, because he hasn't seen anyone turn into a pig in months...) fry up a couple of eggs... Slice that avocado... Slap it all on some toast and top that off with some pickles. It's all pretty quick and easy, and Jeff has to stop himself from doing extra, like heating up a can of beans or making pancakes or slicing a bunch of fruit or whatever.

Dad instincts-- which totally don't apply when he's hanging out with a guy who's, like, a peer.

(He's way too used to being around kids.)

Eventually Jeff returns with the breakfast sandwich, and another glass of water. ]

You know, I usually don't make a guy breakfast in bed unless he bought me dinner the night before.