“Hello, Tony,” she doesn’t miss a beat. “How’s Bruce?”
“Well how did he seem when you spoke to him the other night?”
“I don’t really know, he’s not the type to give much away,” When she speaks, it sounds like she’s smiling sadly.
“Oh? I’ve found him very amicable, revealing, even,” he stands up out of his chair.
“He’s prouder than he looks,” she’s speaking into the corner of her shoulder now, and he knows she’s carrying coffee to somewhere.
“He’s the quiet type – likes to work and do research. Leave equations to calibrate and make corrections to my theories.” He knows she’s sitting down in her office now.
“Did you know Bruce still uses books? I’ve told him they’re all uploaded anyway, you can increase the text size, find words using the search bar, and! You don’t ever get a paper cut,” he talks faster, and faster. Tony thinks it must be the reason as to why his chest is constricting like a plastic bag being grabbed around the middle – thin, clear shape stretched tight.
“Tony — “
“JARVIS likes him. I think they’re on the brink of a mutiny – it’s not my fault that the music that helps me concentrate is a mixture of classic metal and atmospheric smooth jazz.”
“Tony — !”
“Sorry, you were trying to say something?” He asks casually, before stopping himself, mid-pace.
“Have a nice time, okay? Make sure Bruce gets out a little bit.”
“Do you still love me? Don’t answer that.”
“Tony don’t you dare hang u–
Tony wants to run water over his face but doesn’t dare in case he catches his reflection in the mirror.
He knocks at the door, then opens it himself. “Bruce, buddy, we’re going for drinks. You can have…tea, or…lemonade, or ginger ale. C’mon.”