The last time Tony had someone dump images in front of his mind's eye, they were nightmare visions of a future of dead Avengers and a planet scoured clean by an alien army, the pitch and yaw of a hole torn in the sky, so he tenses up, reflexively grabbing at the side of the table, as they begin. But it's nothing like that, just glimpses -- he sees, alongside and below, Stephen's mark glowing on the back of his hand with a thin baleful light and knows the source, if the piercing look the wizard is giving him isn't enough.

He subsides with a heavy exhale, sitting back down on the bench -- he hadn't known he was starting to stand up.

"Jesus." More wine will help. "Was that you?" Any of the.. stuff.