"Because its normal?" He said, figuring that a sound basis for assuming it would work. It wasn't based off metahuman powers. It wasn't based off manipulation of time and space. Peter could hear the aggravation easily enough, could understand it although it, in part, fueled his own frustrations about the situation as a whole, but if the both of them flew off the deep end, nothing would get done. That was his view on it anyway.
"Unless the roads have suddenly vanished and we drive off into a cliff, I'm pretty sure a car could work." Peter speculated with a slight shrug of his shoulders; one that didn't necessarily unlock his arms nor shrug away any of those ever-present irritants. He shook his head at her apology, willing to accept it had it been out of line for her to cop an attitude. It wasn't thought, and Peter was insistant on it.
"Don't worry about it," he said, "I know this is frustrating, and especially from where I think you left off, but trust me when I say they're going to be safe." He didn't know the details about what had happened with Linderman, but he did know quite a few things about that night: Linderman, even in regards to his own family, was a villain; D.L. Hawkins had been shot and, following the battle with Sylar, had people there to help him and his son; and Peter himself had exploded in the night sky only to fly his brother to the hospital. All those things, negating any paradoxes made by even this meeting alone, was his surety that things were going to be fine.
"I wouldn't lie about that. Not about family." His own flesh and blood, after all, had been on the scene as well.