By the time they get a table, Tony's burgeoning headache has become a reality, and he's already heard more than he wants to about small town politics and spiders and something about a Void that makes battling the Mad Titan sound like a refreshingly normal afternoon. Leaning on one elbow, he fists his hand against his forehead and studies Stephen as he arrives with -- thank god -- drinks and some tantalizingly empty plates. Which are, of course, filled by a wave of his hand.

"Can't take the Vegas out of the man." He reaches for a thing that looks a bit like a rugelach cookie and puts it away in two bites.

"What's with the ink?" Tony lifts his eyebrows at Stephen, indicating with a glance the symbol drawn on the back of Stephen's hand.