"Couldn't say, I don't exactly have a speedometer attached you know," He teases, flashing a brief grin. Yeah, this is a lot easier to talk about than everything else. "Doubt I could outrun a car on a straight-away, but when you take obstacles into account I'd wager I've got a pretty good chance in a race."

On closer inspection it'd be easy to see Tony's doing his best to keep up a convincing front, but there are cracks. Bags under his eyes, a bit of a tired tilt to his posture. He hasn't slept well in ages, and especially not since he's hit the road. Speaking of, his clothes are starting to look more worn and filthy as if he'd barely stopped being on the road for more than a few brief moments. He'd tried to clean up a little for the visit, but there's only so much one can do at a truck stop bathroom.

It's the stress he wears the heaviest. Ghosts of his memories haunting just behind his eyes. Where the jovial and confident grins just don't quite reach. Sure, he puts on a good display when he's animated. But when he's still, it becomes easier to see there's more going on there than he talks about.

"How's life treating you, looks like you've managed to keep work at least? I know the whole job situation is rough on a lot of people right now." The world's a mess, even a year after everything.