[ Tony gives the crate a seriously skeptical look before he turns to watches Adrien slosh the antiseptic all over the place. He has to bite back a pang of frustration. This is how Adrien copes, he gets it, but the idiot is in a sorrier state than Tony by far. It's a wonder all his limbs are even working. Hell, it's a wonder he's alive. ]

Yeah, okay, first of all - let's back it up and put the brakes on. [ He points at Adrien where he's gathering supplies. ] You cut that shit out. I have some scrapes, not a gunshot wound. Save it for the people who're gonna need it way more than me.

[ There's the sound of joints releasing and the armor de-compressing as the entire thing opens up and allows Tony to step out, which he does. It's been hours - fifteen minutes out of the thing will probably do him some good. As he moves away from it, he mutters "sentry mode," which the armor apparently takes as its cue to close itself up and walk itself over to the entrance to the med tent. It parks itself there, one repulsor hand lifted and ready.

As for the perfectly human guy from inside it, he just drops himself onto what looks like the comfiest patch of ground in the joint, releasing a long and bone-weary sigh as he does so. He makes an expansive gesture at an identical patch of ground nearby. ]

Pop a squat, doc. And bring over some of that water, I'll clean it up myself.

[ If he at least gets the blood off, it'll convince Adrien he doesn't need to be sewn back up or something. ]