Anthony Edward Stark

Tony dropped a crust onto a paper plate soaked with grease and folded his hands under his chin. He was not exceptionally pleased by Bruce’s trade off idea but he couldn’t press without being pressed back and that made all the difference. He huffed, a slow smile on his face and gave the smallest of shrugs.

“All right. The questions and answers have to have a similar weight, though. Fair?” There was no pinkie swear, though he was certainly feeling particularly childish.

The pause that followed was weighty in its own right.

“Why did you pick now to come back?” He needed Bruce so many times before now. He’d actually just settled back into routine not too long ago.