You... you wait, hold up - hung out with you dead parents? [Peter asks, finding the nonchalance of that statement to be an invisible speed bump they've just driven over. He tries to keep his gaze forward but ends up staring sidelong at Odin anyway, stealing a raised-brow look while no cars are ahead of them. They've hit the stretches of road outside of the city that aren't so busy, weaving out of the congestion of traffic to a more peaceful pace.

He does what he shouldn't do while Odin's resting against him and that's slouch his arm around him, only keeping one palm on the wheel. The wrist that rests against Odin is the one he wears said bracelet on, fingers dragging over his shoulder when he sits back up and Peter slaps his hand back on the wheel - but not without first ruffling Odin's stupid hair.]

And, yeah - yeah. I like the shit you make me, nobody's ever really done that for me. Given me anything really sentimental and important. So I appreciate it but like, dude. Rewinding? Tell me more about your parents.