Tony hated feeling overdressed. It didn't happen often; he did wear a suit well, and the flashiest one in town, but when it did happen that meant he could have been wearing nothing at all. The money was a sweet gesture, though, however misguided-- Tony had to toss the note carelessly to get away with lounging against Wanda's door frame and counting his meager bounty. On second thought, having to come all the way out here if he wanted to hear from her any time this decade felt to be worth a lot more than forty bucks. Sixty, at least, if he was feeling generous with his highly demanded time.
"We eating in tonight?" he noted with a nod to her endless legs. It might have been his imagination (who was he kidding-- incomplete calculations), but they were looking a little fuller than he remembered-- a diet of chow mein, he suspected, and a little extra stress. If she was nice and invited him in without rolling her eyes out of her head, he might stop calculating and let her snatch the cash back from where he held it just out of reach.