Tony is a better reader of body language than most people, Steve Rogers excluded, but only when he wants to be. It’s how he grew his father’s company, how he’s continued to stride into court rooms and before councils and get himself heard. People might not care too much for him, but his business acumen comes not only from a rich sense of self, but also from a rich understanding of human nature.

Crossed arms, held tightly like that while seated, that’s a sign of closing one’s self off. And Tony knows how to deal with that.

When he’s sober, which has been a lot lately thanks to Pepper (at least when she’s not traveling and leaving her fiancé to several days straight of tinkering or missing the guy whose sketchbooks he’s almost completely dog eared), he’s subtle about the lean forward, or the look upwards through his lashes. It’s a form of flirting, sure, of being docile and sweet and inviting the other person to share.

But drunk as he is, this is almost like open season. There’s a wolffish glance in his eye, predatory, curious and inquisitive. He’s absolutely his father’s son, though he’d throw a fit to hear it right about now when he’s having a good time getting dirt on the old man.

Plus, it helps that Steve is attractive.

“And?” There absolutely is one. Tony wants it.