I come back and everything's still crazy. There's a certain twisted comfort in that
How're you guys all doing?
My SHIELD gals, you still here? Tony?
How're you guys all doing?
My SHIELD gals, you still here? Tony?
So.
Grant asked me to move in with him.
There's nothing like having a dozen old friends (and one bitterly enraged Nazi psychopath) try and murder you to force you to reconsider your life choices.
For what it's worth, I'm sorry.
You know what would be nice?
So. Now that we're all significantly horrified, I think we might need to have a talk about how things played out and where we're going to go from there, here.