It's very much Steve's nature to comfort through touch. He's well enough aware by now that Tony isn't as tactile, and it's easy to assume when he reaches out it's because he knows Steve gets something from it. Either way, something in him shifts and gives when the other man presses his hand against his chest, and in the back of his brain that same something murmurs see, this is what matters.

And it is, in a way. Broken souls reaching across a gulf to try and nudge one another's chipped and shattered fragments back into place. But that kind of thinking won't save the world, most likely, so all he does is give Tony a gentle squeeze to that forearm and nods. "On it. Be careful. If he's upset...and carrying the scepter...?"

Well. He doesn't think he was ever so volatile he'd gratuitously attack Tony without an outside influence, but the Mind Stone is a new wrinkle.

In mid flight, the younger Steve is, in fact, as twitchy and unsettled as he's ever been. The scepter is an unpleasant copilot. It glows and flickers in the corner of his eye, and the more time he spends in its company, the more he wants to just see it destroyed as soon as humanly possible.

Tony's arrival will be heralded by a blue streak of anachronistic swears. He wasn't lying when he claimed he learned to curse as a kid and only tried to lose the habit later. This younger version knows his way around an f-bomb. The way he locks his fist around the handle of the scepter, though, suggests it isn't going anywhere without a serious fight.

"I'm warning you, Stark, keep your fucking distance. I already survived one nose dive into the Atlantic and I really don't want another but I'm betting I'd come out more intact than you would."

That's not a good bet for him to make, actually, considering the suit and all, but maybe he's not at his best right now. His nerves are a little frayed.

[[I am so sorry. I'm fine but there was weather and I lost control of my inbox and I seriously thought I had replied to this already.]]