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Bridget is curled up on the comfiest couch by the fire, Stark Industries tablet in her lap, playing Bejeweled.

What? It's relaxing!

(She borrowed Tony's shampoo again this morning, but a different variety of the same brand. Kiwi-lime instead of mango-raspberry.)

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She laughs.

"Nice lasers."

"They're pretty awesome," he agrees.

"I bet Tony's fond of them, too."

"I'll tell you a secret -- he's modded it already."

"I'm astonished," Bridget deadpans.

"Yeah, that probably could have gone without saying with you, huh."

"Maybe a little. But it's nice to have the confirmation that Tony is Tony wherever he goes."

"Kid's a force of nature."

Bridget laughs.

"Accurate description. Although not one I've heard before."

Auggie chuckles.

"I do try for accuracy."

"It's still weird to imagine Tony Stark being less than thirty," she muses.

"Think how I feel thinking of him over thirty. It's like hearing about people you haven't seen since college."

"Clearly we should never meet each other's Tonies."

Beat.

"...Although I have to say, if they met each other, I'd want a front-row seat and some popcorn."

. . . Auggie looks speculative.

"Definitely."

A little teasingly: "I'm thinking about science. What are you thinking?"

Slightly rueful: "Drinking."

"...Also valid," she admits. "At which point I think I'd start a betting pool on how long it would take them to kiss."

". . . Yep."

Hey, she said it, not him.

Giggling, she unpauses her game. The explosions resume.

Auggie raises his eyebrows.

"Sorry, is it distracting?"

"You tell me. You a multitasker?"

"Yes I am," she says, amused.

"Okay, then, I won't feel slighted."

"Plus one."