Oh, good. Tony hadn't wanted to talk about it, not really. He would have. He would have listened, but it probably would have been pretty awkward for the both of them. "Oh," he said though, a little surprised about that whole other him still being alive thing. That dimension of theirs seemed a lot more forgiving when it came to dead than his own did. "I'm getting that. Not that I think any of us could describe our lives in a single sentence summary that didn't sound ridiculous, so." He shrugged, waved the thought away with an actual hand gesture.
Sure, it helped that his alter ego was giving it the old college try, but Tony didn't much care. It was uncomfortable to think of a world where he'd done something to a Peter Parker to make himself untrustworthy.
But yeah. It wasn't him. Just like this wasn't his Pete. His was about two hundred feet in some other direction.
"I like that," he said, turning toward the table in question again, leaning down to squint at them and tapping at his sunglasses -- the ever useful FRIDAY breaking it all down for him at a glance. "It beats the monumental chore of taking the trash out here." Carrying trash to some other world to be taken care of was -- well. It was necessary, generally, but it felt kind of shitty.
"Lupin's-- better. Tired. Thankful in a way I don't love." He liked Lupin. He did not like that Lupin had to apologize or thank anyone for what he was. That felt shitty, too.