At this point in his hangover, Tony was so loathe to raise his head that he let it crack against the desk when Coulson snatched his cushion away, making him groan and freeze his face in a tortured wince when he did finally look up. He needed assistance, pushing the heel of his hand up his cheek until he could finally prop himself up by the brow, winking up at Coulson through one sleepy eye. Of the fake ones on the hat, one slipped off entirely, cracking like an egg on the classroom floor. Tony was not in a state to do any better than that. "Merlin's troll aunt?" was a safe guess.