With water beading down the smooth curves of the armor and running along the sharp angles, Tony slowly found his own footing, limping back out of the spray of the shower and combing his soaked hair back from his face. Like he couldn't decide who he meant to be in this fight, the armor shifted restlessly, a perfectly cut edge wandering across his chest and over his shoulder like it could fall right off or swallow him whole. He only turned to face Mystique when he heard the sing of the glass, raising his bare hand like he meant to make his peace only to catch a bullet with it. Well, not really catch. For a second, he only flinched, clamping his hand shut in a tight fist and bringing it to his chest to cradle like he had accidentally touched a hot stove, eyes wide with surprise and obvious confusion. He had to look around to see the hole punctured into his otherwise seamless shower wall before he stumbled, unsteady. That had never happened before.