Tony slid into his chair and dumped the tools onto the tray, eyes already glued to the piece of machinery in front of him. Some part of him realized he probably should have been more concerned about the robotic tone and the blankness that had all but replaced anger on Barnes' face, but he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. Not with the information Barnes gave him and what he could glean with his own senses buzzing around in his brain.

"Well, somebody definitely likes you," he murmured, scratching his beard absently.

"I should've been calling you the six million dollar man."

He paused, tapping his thumb against his chin, and lowered his hand to the metal arm, lightly taking hold of the forearm with the intention of turning it to inspect, watch the movement and the way plates allowed for flexing inside the elbow and feel for any grinding or anything alarming that might be going on in the inner workings.

"Aah, maintenance. How often and when was your last?"