"How could I forget," Tony replied, emphatic enough to almost match her delight, twisting his body then to face her with he helmet tucked against his hip and his palms flat on the concrete between them. "I argued with you, like, the whole ride home about naming her Toni, and you kept saying that wasn't a name for a princess and do you realize how much that hurt my feelings? I've been in therapy for years." For all of his enthusiasm and the way his brow wrinkled with desperation for understanding, this could have been true.
That was way too fucking weird. Sure, stealing her face, knowing where she grew up, knowing how she spoke and tilted her head and getting her hands on Pym particles, that was all doable. Elaborate, labour intensive, but doable. Knowing about that, though, knowing about the cars and the piano, this had to either be in the works for years, or it was time for Tony to start believing there was another dimension out there where someone took a very wrong turn somewhere along the line.