And Tony, for his part, isn't thinking about when the mission ends at all. Though he always tried to see several moves ahead, right now he's having trouble seeing to the end of his nose. Before trying to retort, he drains the rest of his beer and sets it aside, poking at the label now hanging half off.

"Ha... yeah." Good one!! No he isn't even hurt (maybe a little), it's just again something he's not adept at talking about. Mostly because he'd never had to before. Except to tell groupies they were delusional and stuff like that, which doesn't exactly apply here. "I--" He's interrupted by the doorbell, and it goes right through him, face draining of color instantly. It had startled him, he doesn't do so well with loud, sudden noises these days.

"That must be our food." He takes off like a cartoon character, leaving her in his proverbial dust.