[She'd seen him walking around in the suit enough times to know the difference, honing in on a gait that looked like he'd done ten rounds of the saving-people thing and the body inside was beat. There was a moment of brief, candle-flare concern: was it Tony? She'd never seen it that bad but JARVIS said nothing and the couch sank beneath the weight of so much red-and-gold painted metal.
And then it didn't matter if he was walking like he was half-dead or he was elegance in hydraulics, because he wasn't dead and the laptop slid to marble in a tangle of blanket as she hugged him, suit and all.]
You are. [Telling chestplate rather than face, and if Iron Man was a symbol, he was also metal and she knew in the space of seconds just how many components were part of it.] You've taken the anti-toxin? [She wanted to see his stupid, idiot face but that would have to wait until he was a little less frail. For now she settled on a symbol familiar enough to be a nightlight.]