Was he that easy to read? Tony smiled around the screwdriver. As long as they were simpatico, she could invent as many reasons as she could to come let him work and rework, and if she talked at him all the way through, all the better. If only he had a more reliable support team. Once Tony seemed satisfied with the impenetrability of Misty's bicep, he emptied his hands and mouth and spun around for--well, obviously, the sword left on the ground. He wasn't completely cocky-- he wasn't going to risk some slip hacking Misty in half-- but when he picked it up he let it drop, point-down, onto one of the fittings waiting on the floor. When he moved the sword back, the piece wasn't skewered, forcing Tony to bend to pick it up himself and turn it for them both to examine in the light saying, "Not bad." There was a dent where the blade hit, but it was very slowly reforming to its flat surface, like soft foam remembering its shape. He flipped it in his hands, eyebrows raised for the go-ahead to keep piecing her together.