Tony rests his elbows on the workbench and appraises her thoughtfully. He followed the process of tracking her down and bringing her back in from a distance, helping mostly by providing tech and intel, and occasionally a shoulder to rant on when Clint was particularly frustrated with the situation. Not that Tony's much less frustrated. He's had to lie low in the tower for nearly two months now and he's starting to go a little stir-crazy. But she's back now and in theory - in theory - soon things can start getting back to normal.

Except...well, she's not her is she? He can't pin it down to anything specific, but there's undeniably something different; something in the way she carries herself, a tension that wasn't there before. It's a subtle thing, but it's enough to make it inescapably clear that she's not the same person. He scratches absently at his cheek, leaving a smear of slick black engine oil behind, and as her gaze flickers to his chest his hand unconsciously follows it. The warm, smooth casing of the arc reactor hums reassuringly under his fingertips. Would she know about the reactor? It's not exactly common knowledge, and he's not sure how much she's been told.

Her next comment dovetails in neatly enough with his own thoughts. "Whatever Clint told you, it's all lies," he responds automatically. His lips quirk in a smirk and he amends; "Unless he told you that you stabbed me. Because yeah, that happened."