[Tony's still trying to see him, but only half-heartedly now. A lot of staring, cocking his head, tracing what he presumes would be the edges of the other man's frame-- maybe his hair?— under the glare of sunlight. It's a long few seconds before he gives up, his eyebrows kinking low with amusement.] That would be the dinner getting way too intimate for my innocent mechanic's eyes, [he says.] Assuming it'd stay visible, and I'd be over here watching it take sausage form in your intestines.

Not really my area of specialty, although I could obtain a Ph.D. equivalent with the right incentive. [He shrugs, finally letting drop his hand.] Not a suit. Magic? Did someone cast a spell on you? Things like this kind of. Happen, in this world. Somebody should've warned you.