Dad's the Word for in_a_chinashop

Ray's trying not to make the silence in the hire car turn into awkwardness, trying his damn hardest to make normal conversation, even stuck on the radio for some background noise. He's not sure how well he's doing though; there's so much mashed up in his head right now that most of the stuff that comes out of his mouth ends up one-worded or petering off before he's really said anything at all.

Maybe. ".............on vacation." He lifts a shoulder in a stiff shrug and checks the mirrors. He's supposed to be reassuring Turnbull. So they didn't find his half-brother - half-brother! - and Ren's worried and upset, understandably, but they've had this conversation three, four times already in the space of a few short hours, a conversation about a guy Ray would pay good money never ever to see again - where he might be, what he might be doing, that he's okay, he would've called were he not - and Ray's.....out. His brain went into over-drive the moment Ren told him who it was they were coming to meet and it switched itself off the second they got in the car for the road trip to Alberta. Any discussion requiring more than three consecutive seconds of thought is way beyond him now, which means he's is abnormally quiet. Brooding isn't his forte but he's doing a real good job of it at the moment.

It's seven whole minutes before he realizes the radio station has started to play rock music far more suited to Kowalski's taste than his own and he quirks his lips in disgust. His poor refined Italian ears, how delicate they are.

"Would you shut that off?" He simultaneously jerks his head towards the radio and lifts a finger to point at the sign on the highway for Alberta. "Or flip channels, I don't mind."