[This has "workplace rivalry" written all over it – and he's not sure if a little potential competition will be good for him, or just end up being a headache and a half.

There's a slight hesitation before he replies:] Hard to say. I'd like a diagnostic to start.

[Apart from the pits and scrapes marring the formerly sleek outer shells of his limbs, he's got no way of knowing what had happened to him between the wreckage of Panchaea and the Ingress. Most of him seems to be in working order, but he just can't be comfortable with himself with his memory torn full of holes like this.]

Besides that, I've just got a couple of cranial enhancements that I suspect didn't really take "being in space in another universe" into consideration when they were being designed. Those could use some updating. [And maybe then, the constant, "helpful" warnings dotting the edges of his vision will go away. He knows something's up, thanks.

A pause. He just– he has to know more.] Tony Stark, though. You mean the guy that already contacted me about this?