There was probably a lot to say, but -- well. Tony wasn't really the sort who cared to clear the air with words so much as gestures if he could help it. And Natasha knew that. She also knew that even if he was angry now with the way she'd told him about their futures, he'd get over it. Because she hadn't done it to cut him down, so much as to save her own feelings. And no doubt she had a lot of them, coming straight here from, well. The end of her own journey, he supposed.
An untimely end. Not that and death wasn't untimely.
Tony hated that, he did. He'd never get over it, but the sting wasn't his to be angry about, not exactly. He blinked again, wiped at one eye with the palm of his hand and knew full well that it probably left a grease stain somewhere on his cheek. Building did that sort of thing.
"It just comes naturally," he said dryly of his good looks -- although he was looking alright, he supposed. He'd put most of the weight back on that he'd lost to weeks of being stranded in space, anyway. Happy might have been pushing it, but Tony was okay. He was practically content here, some days. "Always," he said, because that was the only proper response to give to Natasha when she asked after him.
He stood then, fingers tapping at the nanotech at his chest and huffed out a sigh. "We're going to have to share some stories," he agreed. "Care for an adventure at the same time?"