It wasn't a Bugatti or a baseball team or Steve's own, tailored Iron Man-- wouldn't that put the rest of them out of business? It wasn't that amazing. That was what Tony said by turning away from Steve to let him contain himself before that got out of hand, teasing in a mutter, "Don't embarrass yourself now." It was just...a workshop. A place for Steve to escape to and make real all of those things buzzing around in his head and never have to worry about anyone else disrupting his space with their idiosyncrasies and judgments and disruptive currents.
"J.A.R.V.I.S. made you something, too," Tony announced as he crossed the room, "I think he said something like 'Nine thousand...billion songs'." A slight exaggeration-- Tony couldn't quite believe that there were even nine thousand songs written that fit into Steve's particular taste range, but J.A.R.V.I.S. promised a specifically tailored, very extensive playlist and, like anything Tony made, he always delivered. The black panel Tony approached blended seamlessly with the hardwood on the wall and lit up obediently with a single tap to display a soft, scrolling 'WELCOME, CAPTAIN.'
It wasn't amazing, kind of like that still life by Tony's foot that Steve did in art school. That looked like an art school project. Tony had spent a truly ridiculous amount of money on it when it surfaced about a year after they pulled Captain America out of the ocean, when the man had stopped being only Captain America to him, too. The two couldn't be separated anymore, but there was a time when he was only Steve Rogers. Another tap on the screen and the first song began to play, and Tony chuckled. A Place Nobody Can Find-- clever, J.A.R.V.I.S. "You wanna dance?"