The dramatics, Connor pointedly ignores. The actual substance behind the human's answer? Is considerably more interesting. No flicker of the eyes, no lag or change in pulse. He can't afford to discount Stark's deceptive skills completely, but almost certainly...

...he doesn't know he's wrong.

The corner of Connor's mouth quirks up slightly. More than it should—but for the moment, he doesn't catch the lapse of self-control. There's a distracting buzz crawling through his processor, a warm, light feeling.

Satisfaction, he assumes.

"Then I'm sure we won't have any problems." There's just the slightest stress on we. Connor shifts as if to stand—and is brought up short by the weight now digging needle claws into his coat.

Right. The animal. He glances back to Stark.