Unlike Clint, Pietro could spit out an astounding amount of horrible things like buckshot. Which approach was worse depended on the proximity and how much patience you had at the time, Tony assumed. It was horrible enough that Pietro was still talking to him at all-- Jesus Christ how often had Tony thought that, and yet here they were again, like a broken record-- and Tony recoiled the moment it seemed like he was geared up for more than an 'I'm sorry, I'll go,', but he absolutely froze when that one little phrase hit him square in the chest. Everything Pietro said after that was just noise whizzing by him. Staring, numb, watching Pietro fidget and fucking talk ceaselessly, jaw locked and heart aching, Tony tried to get the mosquito drone of the late night test tone out of his head but he could practically see the colour bars. This concludes our programming. Without a word, hardly blinking, he turned and marched mechanically away half a beat after Pietro finally closed his mouth.