Tony Stark of the eponymously named town (although it'd been more of a joke at the time) was on the ground below him, staring up in a half squint at the work that was being done shoddily. It wasn't like he was nitpicking, he really wasn't. It was just that -- well. Roofs were pretty important. You messed that up and you were liable to wreck everything else in the place if the weather went south.
"I said," Tony raised his voice just enough to be heard, but not really loud enough to be considered yelling. "Would you like some proper tools?" It wasn't really accusatory - Tony didn't know the guy and he was likely just doing his best, but he'd never been overly great at being outwardly friendly on the first go either, so who really knew how the question really sounded to someone else's ears.