"No, we've all moved on," Tony replied, still watching Joe who was staring so hard at those lights now Tony was starting to worry about retinal damage. It probably wasn't that bad. It was about time he led Wicked further into the garage, though, inviting her to take a seat before carefully joining her on the already well-worn couch that was tucked in a corner that had clearly started as a hospitality area and had since become more workspace-- the counters were covered with notes and partially deconstructed mystery machines, and the sink full of something very pink like Pepto-Bismol, but didn't seem to have a smell and might have been more solid. Meanwhile, Tony wearily related, "We're all far too cynical to enjoy things anymore. Except for the smoking, but that's more of a post-ironic ironic status symbol." Tony was hardly listening to himself speak as much as he bothered to at any given time. Joe was much more interesting than anything he had to say, and he was just hanging out there, lolling his head back for Tony to catch while Joe took in whatever was so cool about the ceiling. "Are you really not seeing anyone yet? What's that about? Even Wanda's reconnecting with old flings," he said, then regretted it because maybe she wasn't the right person to bring up. Tony didn't really know the details of their confrontation, but if it really involved this little guy he might have been inclined himself to blacklist her entire lineage. Actually, that could have been an overall good idea for Wicked's health; that family was not good to her.