After hearing what Schiller had to say, Peter had only one thought.
Hit Schiller? Miles???
Peter pressed his lips together hard, the muscles in his face twitching, but he still forced himself to say, "Doctor, I don't think Miles needs that much training..."
"What are you thinking?" Schiller's muffled voice came from the other end. "I'm not his enemy. It's just training. Do you think I'd be so careless with my attacks?"
"But this really is too... uh." Peter stood there in a daze, glanced at Miles, froze again, then looked at Miles once more.
"I only wanted to help because I saw you were too busy and couldn't find anyone else. If you don't appreciate it, forget it."
After struggling in place for a while, Peter said, "All right, Doctor, but you have to promise me that you can only use force—no, no, you can't use force either. I'm not saying you can't use force and have to use some other method, it's just..."
Peter scratched at his head for ages, unable to figure out how to put it, when he heard the considerate Doctor say from the other end, "How about this? I won't step in. Let Gray Mist do it. We'll use his rules with Sandman: whoever gets caught loses."
"That won't work either!" Did Peter not know Schiller by now? He said, "You have to go easy on him. What I mean is, you can't be that much stronger than Sandman either. Miles has only just found his rhythm. You can't crush his confidence."
"Are you the psychologist, or am I?"
Peter had no answer. His face practically scrunched up like a steamed bun, but after glancing at Miles, who looked utterly dead inside while staring at a math problem, he could only nod and say,