'Unsettling' is kind of an understatement if she's asking how a pseudo-steampunk society harnessed cosmic strings and concentrated them down to a single multiversal destination, but Tony keeps that to himself. He's still processing – "processing"? is that the word? – everything Sam told him, and that means everything, which...

Maybe chatting about things his past-future-self did in some faraway agro-commune is a little easier to stomach than the alternative.

"Yeah, never been one for... corn harvests," Tony replies, deadpan. But that's – god. Solving some local problem, for people less educated, less equipped, in a place where it might allow them access to knowledge to help themselves, that's...

Something he would do. But also, maybe a little less frantic than what he would do? Which means...

...Something. Probably. He reaches out to return her handshake.

"You know who I am. Apparently." Which, he guesses, is one step forward from Herbalife, who'd never heard of an Avenger in her whole post-apocalyptic life. He lets go, leans back, crosses his arms. "So – this other me. Impressions? Trivia? Gracefully aged?" Pause. "If you describe him as 'refined,' I know that's teenager for 'awful'."

Then again, after five years of living with the weight of the world, who wouldn't look worse for wear?