Careful of the wires, Tony swiveled at her approach, swinging his legs crossed in the motion and keeping low in his seat while he stared up at her through his lashes. The laugh was nice, as contemptuous as it might have been, a cute, girlish titter that was as incongruous with her severity as her gun was on her slight hip. It had him smiling more naturally, though that didn't ease his stare.
"Does it have to be one thing?" he asked, and his hand lifted from his lap as if to beckon again, but aborted, just twisting and falling again to hook a finger around his belt. She knew exactly what she was doing. "Only a couple times," he admitted, finally looking away to roll his eyes up to the ceiling, innocent.