"Steve," Tony greeted from the couch, legs stretched out long in front of him and crossed at the ankles, a glass of something much stronger than microbrew between his hands. He wondered, briefly, if he should stand up, but then thought that more awkward than was really necessary at this point. He'd never stood up before. Doing it now would only call attention to the fact that things really had changed. Not that it wasn't obvious anyway.
"Completely famished." An absolute lie - his stomach was too twisted up and the idea of grease and solid foods wasn't actually a pleasant one. But he'd choke a slice down for the sake of appearances. "Take a load off and set your bounty down, huh?" He waved vaguely to the coffee table, all of the dozen or so free seats in the room.