“The first step in learning something new is admitting you don't know a damn thing about it.” Tony let his eyes settle on Poe for one deliberate second before he offered a tired, but amused smirk and looked down at the table. “Maybe it's not the first step. Maybe ‘interest’ is the first step, but nevermind.”
Tony couldn't remember the last time he played foosball. He had a vague memory of himself and Rhodes hunched over a table at some bar near MIT a few decades ago, but he didn't know how reliable a recollection that was. He could just be making it up because now he was thinking about the game. He paused for a moment, wondering why he wasn’t ramped up, trying to think of a way to get out of this place, or at least figure out where they were, but he wasn’t. Sitting around here wasn’t that different than sitting around the Avengers compound, except here there was company and he was comfortable. Maybe he’d just accept that this was the universe’s way of forcing him into retirement.
Stark bent to fish out the white ping pong ball from the little opening in the side of the table. He held it up so the other man could see what he was doing, and then he carefully placed it in the middle of the board. “Simple concept. Get ball into net using the horribly deformed men on sticks. Do you want red or blue?”
What a demented metaphor for the breakup of the Avengers that could be. With a fucking Bucky ball right dead in the middle. But no one in this room knew anything about that and it wasn’t like Stark to unload on anyone. And especially not a stranger he couldn’t afford to trust. Then, given the disturbing lack of luck he’d had with the mentors and friends he’d trusted, maybe placing his bets on a stranger wasn’t that bad an idea. He doubted the betrayal could feel any worse than what he’d already experienced.
He tilted his head to the side, focusing on his new foosball opponent. “And your name. I should probably ask your name.”