George nodded at the first question, raising one arm to point in the direction where he'd initially nodded. "Right over there, just past that building in an area assigned to earth-bound vehicles," he stated before smiling just a bit. "I don't see why not."
Because really, even if he hadn't wanted to agree - which he did - he really couldn't. It was obvious, both from Jim's statements as an adult as well as his reaction here and now that his son understood just how much that car meant to him. And while George hoped that the older version also understood that he meant far more to him than that car ever could, he wasn't quite positive that this version realized as much. So to say that no, he couldn't see a mere car just because it happened to be important to George? Well, that would come across as that car meaning more to George and that simply wasn't true.
Moving in the direction of the parking garage, assuming that Jim would follow, George was all but lost in thought as he walked. So far the conversation had gone better than he could have expected yet he knew that conversations as a teenager were all too easily forgotten. He wanted, really needed, to do something to make sure that Jim would realize he was not that bastard Frank nor any other adult who had turned on him, let him down, or abandoned him throughout his life.
And George had an idea on just how to do it. He bit his tongue for the time being, though, knowing he couldn't vocalize his idea until he was certain he wanted to follow it through. So instead he led Jim into the garage and in the direction of the space where the car was parked. And sure enough there it sat, undamaged and as beautiful as it had been the last time George had seen it before shipping off with the Kelvin what felt like a lifetime ago.