Tony was sitting in a sun-chair he'd constructed out of bits of metal and some fronds. It was holding up nicely. The things he'd made tended to.

He figured it was probably compensation for him not holding up so well. The goatee was a little frazzled, bordering on a beard. He had been sitting in one place for longer than was probably normal.

(Although normal for Tony was about a minute, sometimes.)

"...I'm listening," he said, waving to a nearby flat surface. "Just... over there."