âYouâre not taking this seriously, Steve.â
âSure I am,â Steve says, summoning 70 years of professional seriousness. He leveled eyes with Stark, or at least tried to. Even with both of them sitting down, Tony had a couple inches on him, easily. Still. Heâd had practice.
âAnd thatâs coming from me. So.â Tony drummed his fingers on the paper. âDo you really, genuinely, absolutely, want to take snow-cone here home with you?â
âYeah,â Steve said. It was remarkably hard to intimidate someone when you were shorter than them.
âSteve.â
âJust sign the paper, Tony.â
âSteve.â
âWhat, Tony? What do you want me to say?â Steve stood up; he was going to have to stalk around a little bit, to get his point across. âNo, Tony, I changed my mind. No, take myâ take him to some lab, some facilityââ
âMacLean Hospital is not âsome facility,â Steve. Heâd haveââ
âIf heâs not safe with me, how they hell is he going to be safe for a hospital?â
âNo oneâs sayingââ
âThen what are you saying, Tony? Stark?â Steve asked. He was raising his voice now. âThat you donât want me going home with the killer cyborg assassin because youâre worried about his health?â
âFine, you know what? Fine. Fine.â Tony scrawled his signature across the front of the paper, and starting flipping through to initial the rest of the pages. âYou want to get yourself thrown out a windowââ
âIâm notââ
âHe put three orderlies in the hospitalââ
âYeah, in the first week, butââ
ââand one of them is still in a neck braceââ
âI canât do this again!â Too loud. Dial it back. âI canât. Iââ He put a hand up through his hair. âYou know I never really knew? They sent his mom a letter, said heâd been captured, but she didnâtâ I didnâtâ I didnât find out until after the war. And that was justâ missing.â