A thing he won't admit to, buried brain-stem deep, came in the moment after the quiet fell... was finding consuming rage give way to sudden emptiness. Waking to something precious, pulverized, at his feet; its ghost in his fists.

"He killed my mom."

Bruce doesn't pause, glances at him sideways. Nods once as he pours hot water into carafe. Doesn't point out that this is the third iteration of a conversational loop.

"Where are clean towels?" he asks instead.

Tony, thrown, looks up; forms half a word but then turns it into an irritated chuff.

'The kitcheny kind? I don't know, drawer by the sink. Maybe. Probably. FRIDAY, how's laundry?"

"I'm not programmed for every menial household chore, Boss."

"Yet. And I only asked for a status update, not a new kinetic algorithm."

"And I cannot track that status."

"Didn't we just install universal capacity sensors? I swear to God... "

"It's okay," Banner smooths in, "I found them."

"Fine."

Whenever Tony lapses out of talking, it's tangibly still. Silent. No busily swooshing automations at this hour, just the emptiness of an insomniac's nightmares. Which is appropriate enough, since they (ie, Tony) have ruled out sleep in favor of coffee and circular rumination.

"Anyway, that's how it falls. Try to do the right thing, the not-so-egotistical thing, and... so, onto whatever else. Upgrades. Fucking sensors. Next big all important item on the checklist. And forget about the fallout, it's whatever, doesn't affect us anyway, we're sitting too high up to worry about any of it."

"You wanna come down to earth? Maybe disappear to Calcutta, live in a shelter... find some meaning in holding the hands of the destitute and dying?" Bruce is gently smirking as he hands over a mug.

Tony spares him a quick glare, but relents.

"Yeah, you're right, not really my style."

"How's the headache?"

"Shitty. I think I'm still fairly concussed."

"You want some drugs for that?

"I already took six." He frowns, rubs his eyes. "Pills, not varieties of drug. Three doses. Small ones. What do you take me for?"

Bruce chuckles, leans back on a lounge with a sigh.

"I don't know, but you might be losing me soon; it's almost 5. I still sleep, you know."

"Show off."

They sit a while in early morning quietude before Bruce stirs from half-dozing.

"Hey. Really, I'm just glad to be relentlessly tracked down for something other than my anger issues."

"Your theoretical and technical acumen are second to... well, competition is stiff at the top. Let's go with no worse than second overall."

"...and now I'm really going to sleep," Bruce concludes. "I'll have another look at those density matrices, but not for at least six hours. There's coffee left in the press if you're going to keep being maladaptive."

"I resent that. And, also: judge not, lest ye be similarly judged. My maladaptations don't involve the manifestation of repressed rage into an unstoppable green city-levelling maniac."

"...goodnight," Banner groans, refusing the bait.

"Hey."

The sudden softness, close to apology or supplication, stops him at the threshold.

"Thanks for picking up."

There's a short moment that stretches long before Bruce dips his head in acknowledgement.

The stillness ticks as he continues on his way.

Tony sips at his coffee for a moment. Then he swipes up a building schematic at the table console and overlays a few circuit diagrams with deft gestures, zooming in here and there on this utility route or that test point.

Can't have the most advanced AI on the planet (give or take) unable to run basic background janitorial subroutines.

Ambiguity is my favorite thing.