It was too easy for Tony to believe, but, just like most of the bullshit that had come out in that farce, that wasn't his secret to tell. Unfortunately, with only someone else's twisted and partial version of the events, he wasn't sure what he really was believing. If the facts they had were true, Nicholas Joseph Fury should have been sitting in that cell and taking the punishment for the crime, not a piece of junk that Tony had handed him to get away with it. Now he was out there without anyone watching him, with his own brainwashed orphans because Tony wanted to trust him. That was naive, and he resented Wanda for wanting to be now, like that helped them so far and like she had never done anything despicably desperate.
"Maybe this is his way of giving us some answers," Tony hypothesized, not looking at Wanda or the dome now but the greater landscape that was somewhere out there under the storm. After all, Nick hadn't let himself go under without a plan, and a wormhole engine could be a big, complex cog in a subtle machine, or a curiosity of a loose end. That was a big spectrum, and all Tony had to judge was a desert he couldn't see, the girl with the problem and five more pre-programmed destinations. No, he could see it-- the desert, in glimmers and flashes, but the assault was definitely letting up. Tony took a deep breath and glanced back Wanda's way, lips parting then sealing shut again, brow furrowed. Maybe she hadn't. Instead, he smirked, "What about Hawkeye's gold medal?"