"Never too soon to turn to gallows humor. Maybe if I'm very lucky, the youths will turn me into a meme. Black Widow, Black Swan, swan-dive, I'll do the work for them," she said, and followed along after him, though not without a curious glance shot back over her shoulder at the disarray left outside. It made a certain kind of sense, really; there was nowhere to go, and no one in the immediate vicinity who constituted a stranger, anymore. If someone had run up onto his porch and tinkered with his work or made off with a spool of copper wire, it wouldn't be a difficult job to figure out the whodunnit.
Still. It was a change. Tony shared the results of his tinkering freely and joyfully; he always had, generosity was one of the cornerstones of his personality. (He always fluffed it off, really; it was easy to be generous when you were a billionaire, easy to bury it under sarcasm, but still.) She'd been the recipient of enough perfectly calibrated custom weapons to know that he shared the end results, but the halfway through process was something he kept guarded outside of a lucky few. It wasn't a strange change for the circumstance, no, but it was still yet another stuff's different nudge.
"Okay. House of Doors, and the open to places we can get into and back out of." Easy enough to follow; probably how all the scavenging was ultimately handled. "But they don't open to anything that puts people back into something they recognize? What happens if the doors close and someone from here is still on the other side?"