These days, Tony doesn’t sleep much. He didn’t in California, he didn’t in New York, and he’s not sleeping much here. There’s too much to do, too much that has to be built from the ground up for him to let himself be too idle. Some of his teammates are gone, he himself has no way of being a useful contribution to the fighting, if it needs to take place, and the house has gotten a little crowded. Steve and Peggy don’t need a third wheel while they try to catch up with the seventy years that have been stolen from them.

So Tony goes for walks, now that he’s healed enough to do it. It’s not much, but it makes him feel vaguely useful and it keeps him out of the house, away from the possibility of falling asleep. Win-win for everybody.

He’s near the upper part of town when the earth shakes, but there’s no ocean to fall into this time and he’s not drunk. It’s got an odd feel to it, this earthquake, and having lived in California for so long, Tony’s become accustomed to earthquakes. It doesn’t feel like tectonic plates shifting, it feels like an impact. So naturally, unsurprisingly, he goes to investigate.

Tony’s not expecting the Hulk, evident in the way he comes to an abrupt stop immediately upon catching sight of him. “That you, Jolly Green?” Because it’s dark enough, and the place is strange enough, that he knows not to so quickly trust his senses. Besides, he doesn’t want to hope. Moving closer, ignoring the common sense that would tell other people to run, he walks right up to him. “Hulk?”