Not— [hack. Tony sounds more like a cat regurgitating a furball than a person, but then he's done.] Not Asgardian, [he says, looking her over properly now. She's not wrong; one of his eyes doesn't seem to be focusing quite right, which is clear to her given her better-than-human acuity. But he seems to know that she's,] Not Asgardian.

They don't have bright sides. Nyeh. [The latter is him wiping residual sand off his tongue with his actual fingers. The ones attached to his non-singed hand.] And the aesthetic. [His eyes skip past her armored shoulder, down to her. Armored tits, the N7 marked there. And abruptly back up to her eyes, which are up here.]

Hammer Tech. Your incarcerated boss might fire you for not letting me die. Nice suit.