Tony knew Steve was tracking Bucky. This was a simple fact. He also knew the man had had jack all luck and pulled a veritable âthatâs nice Tony, maybe you need sleepâ when heâd offered his own brand of help.
To be fair, his brand of help had been âlet me kill you so you can sense him betterâ so he could see how that hadnât exactly won Steve over. But for fucks sake, he was losing patience with just about everyone. Nobody remembered anything but the Hulk and how the hell that worked he still didnât know. He did know the guy was not helping and found his frustration funny.
So heâd decided to say âfuck itâ and look on his own. Which had been a hell of a lot easier than he expected which was... weird. Heâd never been one of the more powerful gods in their group so the fact he had so much more oomph had to be due to his humanity, that was his best guess really. It was wrong, of course, but he didnât realize that.
Still, it gave him the remotest chance in hell of managing to track Bucky down, and he did so, more by luck than anything, he was pretty sure, but the algorithm he built and threw godly power behind at least seemed to do its job, because here he was, with the guy in sight and no idea how the fuck to open a conversation. On the one hand, he could just go up to him and introduce himself. On the other hand, he could get his ass beat if he did that and he had no desire for that at the moment.
Nope, ass beating it was. He walked up to where the man was picking over some fruit and stood next to him for a moment before looking sideways at him. âYouâre really rocking the hobo chic. Just so you know.â