Where he had been eager to send Pietro zipping out beyond a locked door only a few minutes ago, Tony hesitated, reaching quickly for another slice to keep this pizza where it was and prove its continued resourcefulness. No need to replace a good part. "Big deal, we've all got our shit," he said, ignoring Pietro's restlessness then, keeping a finger hooked over the edge of the box. "You've just had a lot of opportunities to deal with it." Which wasn't new, either. Pietro could ask anyone on his team, they all had recurring nightmares. The real difference was, Pietro seemed to enjoy his. Even after making a place for himself defending the planet and marrying a great gal and raising the next generation of world builders and shakers, he still couldn't commit himself to any of that more than he did to his fucked up daddy shit.
"Cap's retired, too," Tony announced, apropos of nothing, wildly delayed, but eying Pietro carefully through his lashes, finally taking a breath and not speaking around a mouthful of cheese and anchovies. "He says he needs time to figure himself out, who he is when he's not being Captain America. Can you believe that? There's such an infinite depth to him, so many fine, moving pieces that you could spend days, months counting, and he can't see any of them, hasn't for a hundred years. Wild, huh?"