"Holy crap, those still exist? I thought the kids these days were all doing psychology and medical administration or whatever?"

Tony moved off, bustling with an almost but not quite directness around the room to gather the things for her. Red. White. Everything she'd said she needed. He had no problem giving it to her, no problem letting her get her project finished by herself. He felt no ownership over the issue, and no need for gratitude or a returned favor. Tony was raised in generosity; it was a careless generosity, without pretense or expectation.

He thrust the pile toward her arms.

"Just uh, remember to tell them it's heat activated, you fuse it with an iron and then no seams, tada. Except also, if there are wrinkles, you set those, too, so basically, try not to wrinkle it. I mean, once you put it on, they'll be pulled out anyway, but it just looks bad, you know?"

Not that it had mattered with Peter anyway, who kept the thing balled up in a backpack and sometimes smelling of his teenager armpit sweat, but Tony wasn't his Aunt May and he wasn't in the market for someone to parent.