“Shh or make more noise?” Tony asks with mock querulousness, voice pitched low as he focuses on the bush. “I can’t do both. It’s one or the other.”

But there’s movement in that bush and it’s too small to be a giant metal Hulk. That leaves saber-toothed cat or metal bear, and Tony’s betting it’s the former, not the latter. Tapping his fingers against the Hulk’s arm, he nods toward the bush, plan already forming in his mind. “I’ll flush it out. Second you see it, grab it. Okay?”

A firm believer in asking for forgiveness instead of permission, Tony doesn’t wait for an affirmative. He just charges forward into the bush, withdrawing one of the syringes full of tranquilizer from his coat pocket as he goes. If it fights back, he’ll nail it. Otherwise, it’s up to the Hulk.