It's very difficult to forget that Tony Stark is a genius. I mean, for one, it's what he's known for, regardless of universe of origin. He's not like me. 'Cause people, they see me, and they think I'm some blundering, blathering melonhead. I try to work that to my advantage as best I can, but, you know, the fact is, people do forget that I'm a smart guy. Heck, sometimes I forget I'm a smart guy, but that's more to do with my life outside of a laboratory context. I don't make the brightest decisions sometimes, let's be honest.

But Tony... Tony's someone who has genius stamped across his forehead. And maybe we don't always agree -- cold fusion, anyone? -- but I'd just be plain old dumb not to acknowledge the fact that he could think circles around me in his sleep. Or, apparently, manipulate high tech nanotechnology while I was off reacquainting myself with my old life.

I'm moving closer before I even realize it, equal parts curious and impressed, though it's not like I haven't seen anything like this before. But after two years on some random island, where he physically had to drag on each part of his armor, any technology seems new and exciting again, and it's the scientist in me, not the superhero, that wants to get a better look. I stop myself from reaching out at the last second. The grin I flash him's all glee.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" I crow, clapping my hands together. "My little Iron Lad's all grown up. So is there more where that came from or what?"