<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Tony finished shaving, leaving the finer details of trimming and sculpting for later. He was nervous, he was excited, and the landslide of questions was beginning to form in his head. He had something new to think about, something to hope for, and the prospect that people might still be alive blew the dust and fog out of his mind allowing it to do what it did best; think and figure things out.<br/>
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"So Strange is alive," he came  walking out of the bathroom clean, dressed, and groomed. He headed to his dresser, checked himself, and opened his jewelry chest where he kept an assortment of watches, ties, cuff links and all the other accessories that made him sparkle and bling. He pain no notice to any of it save an old analog watch. You never knew what magic and messing with dimensions would do to technology, so an old wind up watch was in order. "Is there anything known about the others?" Peter. Peter Parker was whom he meant in specific, though he did care about the others.  <br/>
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He turned around to lean against the dresser and look at Steve. Now that he was crawling out of his own private hell, he could see the wear on the man's face. Steve Rodgers, Captain American, a household name on the tongue of every patriotic American in the nation. Well, most. Steve had had some run ins with bad luck, bad publicity, and sometimes downright bad decisions. Or maybe not. In the end, everything that had come about from Steve's disregard of the Accords had turned out to be legit. If he had bowed to convention then, there would have been bigger trouble. And in his heart, Tony knew Steve been between a rock and a hard place when it came to a decision between himself and Bucky. Tony thought he might have done the same if he had been in the Captain's boots and say, if it had been Pepper. Maybe things would have gone better if he'd only processed the news about his parents better, but the past was the past, and the present had an urgency that didn't allow for reflective thinking.<br/>
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He sighed and looked around the room. He had really done a number on it and he could tell now that it stank with the pungence of depression and desperation. "Come on, let's get out of here. It sounds like we have work to do and frankly, this whole little get together has been really embarrassing what with the smell and the hugging and all that. Are we going to do the little circle thing, or should I have a car brought around."<br/>
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Peter looked up from the horse and managed a small smile. "I like cookies." <br/>
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He turned back to the horse and gave a nuzzle to its muzzle before walking over to stand under the spot where Peter was hanging. He looked up, his green eyes round with honest sincerity. "Petey, do you think...Do you think they're all going to hate me? I mean, especially Tony. He hated me to begin with and then I really went and screwed the pooch and fucked up the whole plan. But Doc told us it had to be that way, that there was only one way that we could win and it wasn't getting the gauntlet off."<br/>
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He sighed heavily and his gaze fell to his feet where he shuffled a boot around in the hay and dust. "...And everyone I love is gone. He killed Gamora. I loved her. She loved me. I...." he sighed again and looked up to Peter. "...What am I going to do? There's no one left."  </span></span>