"Who doesn't like a paint splatter?" Tony asked, although no one liked them. No one. Especially not him. But frankly, Tony didn't remember a whole lot of '92 or the fashion in it anyway, he'd been dealing with some pretty major shit that year and had been a little more focused on the next high, drink or warm body coming his way more than pretty much anything else. Not that he'd admit to it now, particularly from a guy who probably wasn't from his own universe.
"Room service is for later," he said, "I'm waiting on Steve." Because of course he was. They hadn't made up, the two of them, but they were working around that in every other way possible. And like hell if Tony didn't delight in the idea of actually offering Steve something for once. He didn't miss the we there, and knew full well Dick was talking about Peter. Why wouldn't he be? They already shared a house in town. "Probably wouldn't hurt to look at those mushrooms right away, though."