"You don't have to live here, that's not the idea," Tony explained as he led Spider-man down the quiet hall, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet and the air spiced with a faint scent of cinnamon from the bouquets arranged in inordinately expensive vases. ("That's me," he mentioned, pointing to a door as they passed, "Cap's downstairs.") At the next door (not that Tony wanted to be Spider-man's best friend or anything) he invited his guest to take a look and decide for himself how it suited him. "The space is here if you need it," he continued, "along with the other facilities; the gym, the kitchen, you know the drill."
It had been an unexpectedly long wait to get the kid up here, but Tony was glad it happened however it needed to, and he definitely owed Jessica a fine massage for her hard work. The factory fresh Avengers must have been a pain to track down, of course impossible to find when Tony actually wanted him to put in an appearance. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame behind Spider-man, arms crossed over his chest, obviously proud of his own work that he thought he had run out of chances to show off and waiting for Spider-man to ask him all about it. This had been intended as his penthouse before the Avengers escaped the awful vice-grip of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command, so of course every detail was impeccably finished. It wouldn't have been put to such good use without the Avengers there, though.