"Fiends," Tony hissed, adamant, though his heavy-lidded gaze remained on the console, images darting, gone, colours, commands, pause, black then white then scrolling with information, fist clenching and relaxing idly where it still rested on the table. When he did finally look up, it was slow, and the light in the room continued to flicker, rainbow and intensity.
"So, you want to make out or something?" Proposed like he could have just suggested the more tried and true game of cards, his smirk slow to come and his hand raking through his hair again to leave, hanging at the back of his neck.