For a beat, Tony didn't respond. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, breathing deeply with a hand gingerly cupped over his chest. How long had they even been here? Long enough-- long enough to lose major organs, long enough for Pepper to get worried, long enough for someone to try to find them. Tony licked his lips, and it was an effort not to collapse and just dry heave this time. If they weren't here now, what did that mean? Did he get someone else caught in this mess? What would they do to Steve-- human perfection, organs like 24 karat bouillon, gourmet, designer guts? Tony pressed the back of his hand to his lips, feeling cold sweat on his skin. It took a count of ten to get him to open his eyes, and the support of a wall to drag him over to where the kid was loitering.
"That looks about right," he rasped, leaning on the fridge door. With a clink, he dragged the mount of vials from their cool keep, then just hovered with them and his battery and his gun in hand. He glanced at the kid, eying the towel, skipped even mumbling if he happened to have a lighter on him and glanced around the room. Something had to be able to destroy this shit. Extreme temperatures, he knew that. If he had Extremis, he'd know exactly...