Tony leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. Pepper sat beside him, scrolling through a tablet. Steve stood near the window, arms crossed. Natasha filed her nails with practiced disinterest. Clint tossed a rubber ball against the wall, catching it each time. Bruce adjusted his glasses, reading from a folder.

You were there too, seated between Natasha and an empty chair that creaked as someone finally dropped into it.

The door at the head of the room hissed open.