God, Tony loved that colour. The elevator doors silently slid open and Tony's attention, which had been riveted to the mirror behind Raven and the way the fabric her dress would cling to every curve as he kept her held against his chest and performed his best to keep her giggling against his shoulder, was immediately drawn to that Cadillac Red, the single hot flare in the cool blue sea of the lobby. There were questions, of course. 1. Why was she here, already drinking, not in there-- was she on her way out? 2. Who was that with her? 3. Was there any way to wear a bra with that dress?
Tony had discarded the sweater and had enough forethought to put on pants, black jeans, black boots, black leather jacket turned up with his white shirt sleeves to the elbow, black glasses that would have been a misguided choice on any other night indoors if not for the occasional rapid burst of camera flash from outside that would have made him squint, all monochromatic until the kerchief that should have matched his tie if he had been patient enough to find and/or tie it, folded with exact care to be a perfect eyecatching flirt of gold in his back pocket. He only peered over the frame of his glasses when he approached the pair lingering in the lobby, all of the affection he willfully showered on Raven in the privacy of the elevator gone lukewarm at its most generous out in the open of the hotel and just letting her follow of her own accord. "It's okay, you can keep talking about me, I don't mind," he encouraged, only flashing a brief smile before taking Wanda's hand to kiss her knuckles in the most brusque possible manner. This left him looking limply expectant, unsure if he was supposed to care terribly much about the arm candy, or if Wanda wanted to pretend to care about Raven. She would have to eventually, but he couldn't tell how many of those martinis she might have already had, and he thought maybe it would take three to make it a safe exchange.