Or, like— [he kneels down to stretch his hands across the side.] Badass silver streaks. Oh, my God, [peter stops, straightening back up and snapping his fingers like he's had the most genius idea.] Holographic. [is he joking? is he not? hard to tell with the way he's smiling.]

Sure can. [zipping around the other side, he leans over the bike, hands securing around the handles while he nudges the kickstand up.] Probably can't dead-lift it like you.

Works for me, though. [he rolls the motorcycle back then hurries it over to the truck-- faster than a normal person, yet slow enough that he doesn't burn any rubber. it takes him a moment, getting it up into the bed, but he manages to do so, rushing back to logan's side once he finishes.]

So, those claws of your's can cut through anything?