You can believe him to be a sort of mangy ol' cat, face grumbled into a permanent look of despair as little hope filled his soul; his soul, the very thing that got banished from his universe as he snapped his metallic fingers to cease the world of a bane of existence named Thanos.

Tony sat in an equally mangy diner, acutely aware of the time-difference in the world he had been banished to – his figure barely having the same stance of brilliance it held before, having scraped up some money on the side to allow himself a bit of a cold drink.

How can one genius advance in a world full of geniuses? Where everything has already been made, where there was nothing else to sought out for – no one to bribe, no one to find.

Well, he found you, didn't he?