Pity is the last thing he wants- needs, really -to see on her face, so he looks away, closing his eyes, unmoving until she steps away.

"...things are changing." He's worked hard to keep the status quo as it is, to keep the White City strong against its enemies, without and within, but the last week- hell, the last twenty-four hours -have shown him how quickly everything can crumble. Joining Pepper at the platform's edge, the city breeze carding through his hair, Stark pulls in a slow, steadying breath.

"In a handful of days, there's a chance I won't even be here anymore." He turns toward her, insistence in his posture, his tone, "You need to not be here, too. See if you can find Jane Foster, she defected only a few hours ago and might be on her way to Krakoa."