Tony's tongue darted between his lips and was slow to retreat, dragging his lip under his teeth with his breath held and his eyes narrowed. In that moment, he pretty well accepted that he would never understand her-- at least, he couldn't project a point where he could confidently say he was able to. She didn't give up anything. He never wanted to play poker with her-- but he might like to watch her lean over the table to collect her winnings.
He gave, he had to ask, "What's that?" his breath coming out quickly in the question then held again. His hand that had idly wandered was stilled, only slowly tightening at the front of his shirt, his shoulders tense. From one singular type of thrill to another-- teasing Fury to a deadly woman calmly wishing for his death and stepping into his personal space.