That would be charming, if Ellis would. Enough that Tony fishes out his phone to search what's on, it being some several years since he's had to bring to mind the current exhibitions at any art gallery at all, let alone this one in specific. Whatever he finds, he doesn't report, eyebrow raising instead at Ellis' question as he scrolls.
"The Hulk," he echoes, "is Bruce Banner, a friend of mine. Avenger. He transforms into a giant green killing machine, which is handy to have on your side specifically. Smart cookie too."
He has described Wysteria that way. Viktor. Fitz, all that time back. Geniuses everywhere you turn.
Tony sets down his phone, stabs a fork into some macaroni salad.
"And apparently he's a big hit with the kids. You'd think the flying fire-engine red robot suit guy with better jokes would push some lunchboxes, but here we are. How's your meat?"
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"The Hulk," he echoes, "is Bruce Banner, a friend of mine. Avenger. He transforms into a giant green killing machine, which is handy to have on your side specifically. Smart cookie too."
He has described Wysteria that way. Viktor. Fitz, all that time back. Geniuses everywhere you turn.
Tony sets down his phone, stabs a fork into some macaroni salad.
"And apparently he's a big hit with the kids. You'd think the flying fire-engine red robot suit guy with better jokes would push some lunchboxes, but here we are. How's your meat?"