"You got molested by a chick who made Super Soldier Serum." Some parts of this were coming together, others still needed to refined. Tony stopped at the end of the table, still bolt straight with an annoyed pout that he forgot to wipe away in his contemplation. In one hand, he had already fished out his cigarettes, holding the package against his chest, frozen and torn between toughing this explanation out or just sorting it all out for himself.
He supposed that explained the perfect, clean, surgical slashes on Steve's arm. Dr. Psycho escaped from the basement of S.H.I.E.L.D. where they kept them working 24/7 trying to recreate the singular transcendence of Steve Rogers, who knew what kind of weirdos they employed over there? Maybe she had managed to poison him, get rid of him to make way for her new generation of Super Soldiers.
Tony sidled closer again, still holding the cigarettes to his chest, a defensive barrier between them. "Maybe we should send you to the medlabs next door," he suggested flatly, that pout gone while he studied Steve's eyes for signs of...what? Death? Tony was not the Avengers' resident doctor.