"Roosevelt," Tony answered without missing a beat, "never met him." Huge personal loss, now that he thought about it. Maybe he should visit Wanda; some things were worth the chaos of time travel. It could wait, though. Wicked was due a kiss in return and a mime to ask whether she got lipstick on him. Not that it would do much to ruin his image-- it might even add to the disheveled, half-nap on a long flight look and kick it up to quickie with the stewardess. "Hey, do you need a job?" That wasn't exactly a smooth segue but it seemed like such a good idea now that it was in Tony's head and-- no, wait, she had a job now, didn't she? Something about...out of the city...sounded like an excellent porn setup. Or was that his thing? Tony was so not prepared for this human interface thing, they were going to have to take this conversation to the fueling station and redirect those trays of champagne before they got too close and tempting. He tucked the gift under his arm to collect a napkin and swipe some satay to nibble while he contemplated how to most efficiently tackle the rest of the spread.