He stands frozen in the doorway, his expression shifting from casual to blank shock in a millisecond. The hallway light silhouettes not just him, but a crowded cluster of figures packed behind him.

There’s a beat of perfect, horrified silence. You can see them all, a gallery of stunned faces over Tony’s shoulder: Clint’s eyebrows climbing toward his hairline, Bucky’s metal hand coming up to rub his forehead, Wanda’s hands flying to her mouth, Vision phasing slightly in surprise, T’Challa’s regal composure cracking into pure disbelief, Bruce looking like he wants to vanish, Pepper’s jaw slack, and at the very back, May Parker’s hand clutching her chest.