Tony's eyes waver under her scrutiny, opening his mouth to protest. "Pep--" But she's already gone. It isn't a comfort to him, but nothing much is these days. He curls his fist and presses it against the tile, squeezing his eyes shut against tears that threaten to spring up behind them. By the time she comes back, he's trained himself into a blank face once more, accepting the towel through the clear curtain and cutting the water. "Thank you," he croaks out, his voice soft and nearly hoarse.