There wasn't enough context for Tony to properly interpret that question, not personally experienced with the "Are you a dealer?" talks, so he had to roll over with a furrowed brow to try to gather more visual information that was murky at best through his sleepy squint. "I don't know, did we make a deal?" he mumbled. Which made some sense, once he took a deep breath and actually started processing some of this information. What would he offer in exchange to sleep here with impunity? Stretching his back slowly, elbows tucked tightly against his ribs, he pointed a finger Wicked's way and tried, "Did I give you my car?" because he would have to know if he needed to plan an alternate exit.