"Yeah, you think so? Guess it's my lot in life now, to be surrounded by a bunch of people who fervently support all my worst hair decisions," she told him, and she swallowed. There was a lump in her throat, straining against her vocal chords, and it grew with that blink of Tony's eyes, so it took a try or two, but eventually, she was on top of it. She felt like she should have said something more; some apology for how much time and distance had grown between, how she'd been as guilty as everyone else of refusing to really touch the ground when they were trying to move on with their lives, that she was proud of him, that she hoped he knew - understood - how much she had always respected him, that she'd cared even when they'd been in diametrically opposed positions. That she was sorry for what she'd had to tell him and the way she had chosen to do it; that she hadn't had enough faith in him to do it in a way that respected what it had meant to be an Avenger and part of a team.
But the gesture had said it for her. She knew that. Tony wasn't going to make her crawl for it. Maybe once upon a time it would have been necessary to bridge the gap, but she barely remembered what was like to be those people.
She leaned back against the porch railing, and her smile was small, too, but it was a real one. "You look good, too. You always look good, deeply annoying quality. And you're - happy? Or you're okay, at least? There's a lot I'd like you to catch me up on."