The lights that composed Tony’s AI virtual manifestation had reformed into a large and interactive purple grid for the armor and the young woman to poke at while the time passed. It was the most fantastically mundane utilization of his prodigious capabilities, but Tony Stark was still Tony Stark, regardless of his form, and keeping the kids happy was never not a priority.

“You win.” The seventh round concluded with Liz’s accolades, complete with virtual confetti, right as the physical Tony entered his room. He squinted at the display, thermos in hand.