"Um-" was the temporary answer to Tony's first question as Wanda turned to the kitchen, glad to put a little space between herself and that portal. Calmed down she realized how the energy was making her feel, how her skin kept crawling. Maybe her energy and its energy just didn't quite mesh well. In the kitchen she pawed through drawers in search of a half full pack of cigarettes she'd found ages ago shoved between the couch cushions, dropped and forgotten by someone she'd had over. In retrospect she wasn't even sure why she'd tossed them into that junk drawer instead of into the trash, especially since they were cheap and half of them were crushed. Well, Tony would have to make do. Beggars can't be choosers.
"Not much," she told Tony, tossing the crumpled pack at him and then hauling herself up to sit on the Formica topped peninsula of cabinets that separated the little kitchen from the rest of the space. She felt a little better over here, she wasn't coming near the thing again unless she had to. "He brought me into S.H.I.E.L.D. the Friday before the trial into this closed off laboratory. He told me I needed to move this thing for him, store it in a safe place. I asked what it does, he said I shouldn't worry about it and I asked if it's dangerous but he said not to worry about that, either." Wanda shrugged because that was really all she knew and Tony ought to have known better than to expect Nick Fury to be particularly forthcoming.