Oh look it's his suitemate. 

"Hi!" Wave. "You look a bit off, everything alright?"

"I don't... know..." he says slowly.

"Don't think I've ever heard that one before."

Pause.

"...which... is odd? It seems like people might sometimes..."

"Oh are you feeling it too? That looks like you're feeling it too."

"Yes, something very odd is going on. Speaking of odd, were you going to put clothes on, I'm not actually complaining but I feel as if I should."

"You've seen every inch of me from very up close, I see no reason to put any clothes on."

Edmund laughs genially, then abruptly stops laughing. 

"Um. I... do remember that. Hey, do you have any, ah, thoughts about me. Like, my prior behavior. And how it aligns with how people are supposed to behave, as human beings."

"...uh. I'm. Wait." Pause. "Maybe?" Okay this is a situation that requires him to sit, there's a couch over there for that exact purpose. "...my memories feel very fuzzy right now."

"As are mine, but I have the - distinct is entirely the wrong word - I have the extremely foggy recollection of you walking into our suite, meeting me, and having me flat on my back inside of two hours. And - I don't - I quite like you but that's frankly insane? I don't think I'm opposed to casual sex but you're my roommate, there should've been practical considerations and checking personality compatibility and there definitely wasn't, I think we talked about - butterflies?"

"My dick game must be real strong," he says in a light tone, but there's a wobble to his voice.

"I assure you it is."

Peter laughs a bit weakly. "I. Um. Share your opinion on the appropriateness of conversations about butterflies as it comes to convincing someone to have sex with you."

"I'm not - I doubt very much that if something nefarious is going on you are in the pilot seat, you seem not at all nefarious. And I don't blame you for - somehow seducing me. But you understand how this is concerning even if it's not cause for blame per se. - I'm trying to think of how to investigate this and my brain keeps coming back to call my brother and make him fix all the problems, Peter's always been good at that."

"Hey, have I ever told you the names of, uh. My siblings. Or my parents. Or literally any family."

"No. I've - you know my siblings, you've met them enough times - but. You've told me that you have siblings."

"Yeah, except I'm. Not. Sure I do. I don't remember them? Or, no, I remember the vague notion of having siblings but I have absolutely no... memories of their names or faces or any, any facts about them."

Okay this is starting to become less intriguing and more terrifying. He grabs his phone from his inventory and starts paging through his list of contacts.

"Fuck."

Edmund checks his own phone and breathes a muted sigh of relief.

Peter reaches the end of his contact list and then returns to the top and starts over more slowly but also more panicky.

"Your siblings are here," he says as he does that, eyes glued to the screen. "But not... mine. Or my parents. There's no one here I recognise as family."

Simbook, how about his Simbook page, surely he'd have his family there? Anyone with his last name? Anyone he even vaguely thinks might be related to him?

Edmund gets up and hugs Peter tightly.

Peter—leans into the hug, a bit, but starts hyperventilating anyway and eventually drops his phone and just hugs, not really able to do anything else as his brain starts going "what? what? what? what? what!" about everything and he's not sure what to think or feel or—where is he from, he doesn't remember, who raised him, where did he live before coming to Britechester, who is he—

Edmund gets out his phone and dials a number from muscle memory. "Peter, can you come over? Pete's having a bit of a breakdown, um - we're neither of us feeling great actually - and you're much better with squishy feelings."

The response is slightly garbled but affirmative. Edmund clicks his phone shut. "It'll be okay," he attempts. "- I'm not sure I'm literally going to adopt you into the greater Pevensie clan if it turns out your family doesn't exist but I'm strongly considering it, I like you."

Peter nods a bit into Edmund's skin. "I'm not—the family part—it's just—I don't remember anything. Anyone. From before I came here."

"I want to help but I'm not sure what I could possibly do."

Headshake. "Don't, don't think there's anything. Just. Gotta take a sec. To think. Probably."

This is the point at which the door opens, admitting Peter Pevensie.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, ignoring the ambient nudity.