After stringent self-examination and some soul searching, Tony had finally come to the conclusion that everything was...a bit to the left. He didn't know how else to put it - a lot of their friends were there and he was physically as okay as a chronically ill and recently stabbed man could be, really. There was just an odd tone to everything and he didn't know if it was him, if it was Preya or if it was one of those mental health things that couldn't be easily explained away.
Either way, he'd done more than enough chewing over his thoughts and feelings by himself for the rest of the year, pretty much, happy enough to be distracted by the presence of Bruce. They didn't get nearly enough time together back when he landed on Doctor Strange's house and now they finally had time to catch up, Tony just... Didn't even know where to begin. Takeout seemed as good as anything.
"Jesus, how much did you buy? Are we having a party you didn't tell me about?" Tony started to unpack things and lay them out on the bar, digging around for packs of cutlery and chopsticks to eat it with. "Dessert? It better be something good."