It’s probably fitting for someone that looks like a choir boy to sound like one too, but singing is the last thing that Tony expects to hear through the filters inside of the helmet. A glance of his eyes is translated by the HUD to dissolve the armor away from his head so that he can look at Steve through something other than a projected screen. He’s about to say something snarky and a little mean spirited, but he doesn’t.

Steve isn’t taunting him or even looking at him.

He’s being a guy who just lost a returned brother-at-arms and a good friend, who has been running on empty, emotionally, and who was raised during a time that doesn’t really equate to anything remotely like now. Tony’s a little surprised that the guy’s managed to get this far without an emotional break this far.

A small turn of the wrist alerts the full armor to split open and Tony heads towards the steel barrier he had been trying to erect between them. “Contrary to the belief of this idiot I know… You can take a few damned minutes to let it all out. Men cry these days, Rogers.” The salty air causes his hair to fluff up.