There wasn't a lot else that she was doing that made sense to Tony yet, but he could recognize dizziness when he saw it-- they were close. By then, he had crossed the bed and bounced to his feet, hands still up in surrender until he was sure she wasn't locked and loaded anymore. Armor had spread across his chest under his shirt, just to be on the safe side, keeping under his collar in case it presented a tempting target.
"Uh..." he started to answer, less of a vocal pause than a judgemental cue. How old was she again? To phrase that question like a medieval-- Oh, wait, Tony got it, like 'what do I call' blah blah, got it. Still weird, but at least coloquially acceptable. "Priceless, ahead-of-his-time, uncomfortably magnetic..." he offered, flattening a hand between them to test the temperature. Still not funny? That was okay, they could make sure her sense of humour hadn't been extracted with the chip after they dealt with this. "Tiger, mostly, to my face. I have my guesses about behind my back, but that's your business. It's a free country. Do you want to sit down? It's just, if you puke, I don't know how fast I can get someone in here to clean it up."