[ Her hand is warm and strong, surprisingly soft for someone he's now pretty sure is capable of pulling an engine apart. Tony holds her gaze and smiles softly, rubbing her knee with his thumb. ]

Believe me when I say there's literally nothing I can't fix. Don't worry about it. He'll be back in time to record Abbey Road.

[ His fingers spread out a little bit underneath her touch, his gaze still lingering on hers. Exploratory, suggestive. ]

Is there anything else I can do to make it up to you? Really, anything at all.