It all flies over his head for the most part, the patter and lilt reading as some kind of fantastic, whatever world this guy came from, but he does have to huff a laugh at the accusation towards the fountain. Ridiculous doesn't begin to describe it.

"Tony Stark of the Forge by way of the dead planet Titan." When in doubt if there's a formula? Use it and flip it to fit. He hauls up two buckets, slings them on the yoke and shoulders it in a fluid flex and curl of shoulders and biceps without so much as a grunt. "It's not that far from here and pretty warm. You can come dry off with me. I might have some tea or something to help with the cold."

Not usually something he worries about while working but he's taken to keeping it on hand due to Bruce's fretting. "And a bottle of wine to help with the bullshit- trust me. There's plenty."

More than just the fountain, than the weather.