Tony, as always, in his own world so much and so sure no one could possibly be around to interrupt him, doesn't even hear Steve come in. Certainly not through the elevator, and not into the lab, either. Overly focused and with his back turned as he's kneeling, when Steve calls to him he stills completely and glances over his shoulder with a mild look of surprise. It's not exactly startled, but something just short.
Still, the expression of surprise eases quickly into a warm smile, one he seems to be wearing more often these days. Especially when Steve is in his very immediate vicinity. But that, too, changes, when he takes stock of the entire situation. The smile vanishes into something neutral before the telltale signs of apprehension plaster all over his face.
Steve's back early. Steve wants his attention. Steve has folders.
Tony's gotten a bit of a distaste for the dreaded manila folders. Autopsy reports, expense accounts, mission briefs and debriefs, collateral damage reports, needs-your-attention-immediately messages- they all always seemed to arrive in these folders. Something's wrong. Immediately his mind breaks out in a sprint towards several destinations. He tells FRIDAY to quit the music while he's standing, wiping his hands off on a cloth he takes from his back pocket.
Just as quickly he's trying to seem completely fine. Unfazed. It's Steve, though, so he's not sure how much that'll work. "What- did the interior decorator send you some stuff you just had to rush over to me?" Joking, because that's easy, and that's what he does when he's feeling out of sorts. Or upset. Or anything. It also gives him more time to dig a mental hole over whatever the hell is going on. He bridges the gap between them, coming to stop a foot or so in front of Steve as he glances up at him. "I've got time," he finally answers what Steve actually had asked him. And then his eyes drop to those folders. "Depending."
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Still, the expression of surprise eases quickly into a warm smile, one he seems to be wearing more often these days. Especially when Steve is in his very immediate vicinity. But that, too, changes, when he takes stock of the entire situation. The smile vanishes into something neutral before the telltale signs of apprehension plaster all over his face.
Steve's back early. Steve wants his attention.
Steve has folders.
Tony's gotten a bit of a distaste for the dreaded manila folders. Autopsy reports, expense accounts, mission briefs and debriefs, collateral damage reports, needs-your-attention-immediately messages- they all always seemed to arrive in these folders. Something's wrong. Immediately his mind breaks out in a sprint towards several destinations. He tells FRIDAY to quit the music while he's standing, wiping his hands off on a cloth he takes from his back pocket.
Just as quickly he's trying to seem completely fine. Unfazed. It's Steve, though, so he's not sure how much that'll work. "What- did the interior decorator send you some stuff you just had to rush over to me?" Joking, because that's easy, and that's what he does when he's feeling out of sorts. Or upset. Or anything. It also gives him more time to dig a mental hole over whatever the hell is going on. He bridges the gap between them, coming to stop a foot or so in front of Steve as he glances up at him. "I've got time," he finally answers what Steve actually had asked him. And then his eyes drop to those folders. "Depending."