That may have sounded like dedication to some, but it was a brief respite that Cassie was granted when their meals arrived. Tony barely glanced at the waitress again, just giving her a nod of appreciation with his focus on some middle-distance and brow knit. For a moment, he found himself appreciating Cassie's friends' explosive antics above her checked and controlled approach. What was the point in fighting it? Those weren't words Tony wanted to hear from anyone who wanted to be a hero.
"You should always fight for what you believe in," he said, voice low, and no nearer to accepting her determined confidence. "If you can't do that, then you shouldn't be wearing that mask."
He didn't really have an appetite. His body ached in ways he wouldn't notice if he was back in the air, and this coke didn't have quite the caffeine content he needed to function. But he kept on watching Cassie, leaned over his plate and pushing around his fries like he really did intend to eat them, wondering about the state of her dimension and what her Uncle Tony was telling her through all this.