"Nah, not you." Adam's glance is a brief interlude before the car rumbles to life. It's a gas-guzzler, but sturdy and safe on icy roads. Adam loves it for what it is and tries hard not to give names to inanimate objects. He knows Myer would mock the sentimentality all too eagerly. "You're impervious to worry. You and Terminators." A pause and then: "Don't take that to mean you can go liquefying on the leather, by the way."
Ever since their abilities manifested, every conversation seems loaded with double-entendre. It was freaky, at first, to have Tion in his head at the least expected moment. It's still not wholly comfortable, but he trusts the younger boy and he has every faith that Myer won't wake up one morning hell-bent on causing a landslide.
He'd get lonely with no one to talk to.
"I got a stomach ache the other day. School lunch or my dad's cooking. Take your pick. But sick? No." Adam turns the car onto what's mostly a deserted road at this hour but will be crawling with trucks and evening traffic in about sixty minutes. "My blood work's still good, so I haven't, you know, bothered to worry."
There it is again, that thing Myer doesn't do and Tion does too much, too often, in direct proportion to the squabbles that seem to bloom between them. Adam chances a look at Myer, then lets his gaze return back to the road, where it belongs. He's a relaxed driver, his reflexes are good, but there's always a niggling sense of self-doubt where the others are concerned.
"Why? Think we're invincible now? If you want, I'm sure the girls can fashion some leather catsuits for when we take on other masked villains..."