It was an uneventful evening, the kind that Tony had grown so very fond of in his retirement, the sort of quiet domesticity he had never experienced as a child, but was all that his own had ever known. Morgan dozed on the sofa, losing her battle with sleep while she watched Peter work. Tony covered her with a blanket before reaching over to collect Peter's plate. "Making any progress?" he asked, bending down to inspect the teenager's work for a moment before walking the few steps over to the apartment's tiny kitchen to finish the last of the dishes.
Prior to Morgan's arrival through the Rift, Tony had been attempting to solve the problem of magical interference by investigating the receiver in the magical radio he had acquired. The real question was whether or not the issue was a matter of the current itself–magical or electronic–or if it was the conversion of the current into a usable form. This little project had been set aside in favor of spending time with his daughter, but now that Peter was here, there was more of a reason to pick it back up again.
Tony smiled to himself as he rinsed off the remaining plate and set it on the drying rack with the other dishes. It had been more than five years since he'd been able to watch Peter's mind at work. He tried not to let his thoughts become darkened by regrets and anger, and instead focused on this perplexing bonus time he was being given with his daughter and his protege in a magical version of Wales.