What peace Cassie intended to make with the oblation became only disappointment as Tony frowned at it like she was forcing paperwork at him. The woman next to him scowled, too, like Cassie had invaded her territory until she realized that the young man had left his glass unguarded on the bench between them to take the cotton candy the same way he had held the scotch; two fingers curled between his palm and the cone, wrist balanced in his knee. She casually took up the glass and sniffed it once before grumbling a sound excuse for departure that Tony didn't even hear, and sidling away down the path with a plume of blue cigar smoke trailing after her. Tony was staring at Cassie, tense but contemplative despite the misguided offering. She was much easier to charm when he wasn't actually spending any time with her. And she was nine years old. These last few weeks had made it terribly obvious that he simply wasn't designed to connect in any way with...anyone, really, but people with emotions particularly. So, anyone. She didn't want his gifts and comforts-- she would rather live with Billy. What else was he supposed to do?
He finally sniffed and gave the cotton candy more appropriate attention, teasing a taste-sized tuft from its mass to suck off his fingers and leave the bench free and welcoming for Cassie to sit with him if she could bear it. He said, "I hope you wore sunscreen," and stared at her like he would see through a lie. The patchy red on her nose was enough information for him, and he reached to tweak it with a wry grin. "Pepper has the perfect cream, ask her before you go," he instructed before Cassie could answer, his grin gone because it would be much easier to make sure she did if she was still at the Tower.