Bruce got dressed quickly. Then Alessa fussed a little over him because apparently she did have an idea of how one presented themselves to authority and he didn't quite pass muster.

By the time they got to the kitchen, Bruce's curls were (mostly) tamed, his cheeks were smooth, and his blazer was impeccable. And he was looking fondly exasperated.

"Alessa, seriously, I don't think there is anything else you could possibly pick at."

"You have no idea how much of a perfectionist I can be if I want to," Alessa said, floating after him and blowing off nearly invisible lint from his shoulders. Bruce arched one eyebrow at all the food.

"Lessy, why don't you go clean up Tony instead?"

"Tony cleans up better than you do!" More lint blowing.