It was a certain feat to be late to your own party in your own house, but if anyone could manage it, it was certainly Tony Stark. It was well after the bulk of the arrivals, when everyone had had their first drink and may have been onto their fourth that he did his best to inconspicuously slip up the stairs from the garage. He needed to find Pepper before anyone else got to him to wish him a Merry Christmas. His effort to fix his hair amounted to a haphazard bedhead look, his brow still creased with thought, some frustration and pain from the encounter, the fingers of one hand curled around and stroking absently along his undone tie while the other arm kept tucked stiffly against his chest. The crisp press of his suit was gone, just treated to a quick steam after it was recovered from the floor, but still Tony threw easy and apologetic smiles to anyone who made a move to approach him as he hurried away.
"Hap, hey, Merry Christmas," he rushed in a breath, not quite stopping to pat his arm and offer him a grin, eyes still darting around in search of his assistant. "Good time? Where's Pepper?"