It's like a crack in the mirror, that falter in the facade he seems to don-- similar and different all at once than the masks she's watched (her) Tony wear from close proximity over the several years they've orbited around each other. She thinks she sees beneath the surface just for a moment now, feeling a distinct welling of sympathy for this Stark that's reflected in her expression.

What sort of a world is this that's forced him to build such a strong armor? She doesn't think she likes it very much.

Another topic change, obvious and seeming to brook no objections. She doesn't move or make any effort to deter him when he puts his hand on her shoulder to trace the sleek lines of the suit, so different than the bulkier Iron Man armors, only turning her head in effort to watch him.

"Well, it is your design," she remarks only a little wanly, but credit where it's due. Tony's creations are all beautiful works of engineering and craftsmanship, her own conflicting emotions regarding the suits aside. "I haven't really... used it all that much, yet. You could probably tell me more about it than I can, honestly."

Just by casual (or not-so casual, judging by his interest) study of it, she means, hardly aware of his extra talent. But Tony Stark was Tony Stark, no matter the world, right?