Usually, that would make him laugh. At least it would make him complain she wasn't being fair to him, whine like the kid he couldn't shake being. Right now, he just gives her a wry smile and acknowledges without words that she's right. He takes a little sip out of his canteen and stares up at the ceiling of the cave. It seems easier than seeing whatever expression is on her face.

He thinks about ignoring her request. There are many things that she could mean by 'talk'. They have a history of ignoring the big issues, but in the small chance this is the moment she wants to really talk, Peter doesn't think he has the energy for it. Or even the desire to think about the sorts of things they should be talking about. The last time she'd died he'd shut down and he can't afford to do that again when his powers were gone and they were all stuck after a crash.

But he slowly sits up, leaning back on his hands. Peter's always been useless about defying even her smallest requests. "About what?" He's staring at his lap, still clutching tight to the canteen. He knows he's being difficult; some part of him is angry at himself for it but it doesn't help him force any words out.