why not madonna

[ Peter would take it incredibly personally if anyone called him a downer, ever, but luckily she plays along with minimal sass. The next room over is quieter yet, cut off by stone and dirt from the rest of it, but it's far from tranquil. The music runs through the sediment and emanates with a dull, constant pulse that makes everything else between the walls sound muted. ]

Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little—

[ Not that muted, though. Too loud. He stops, adjusts for a slightly more inside voice. ]

There's nothing wrong with a little Manilow.

[ He gives her a curious look as he speaks, but he hasn't actually stopped — he's still navigating through the tunnels, looking for any stairs he can get to. Saying he's got this place mapped out in his head would be a serious overstatement. ]