"Or anything, really. He's rather taken with 'mayhem'." And there's that fondness again, and slight amusement. Perhaps after everything, he'd grown a tumor of affection for the man. That was...permissible. He had a way about him that was endearing, and-

-this was neither the time nor the place to think on it, especially since Tony had just pulled out the wine he'd promised and poured him a...ceramic mug of it. It wasn't until the scent of the red reached his nostrils that he realized exactly how much he needed it.

"Sweet Maker, it smells divine." It smelled like something that would suffice at the least. "You have my thanks."