"Nothing, as far as I know," Tony admitted, and gladly dumped the problem into Cal's hands to turn and consider the larger problem of his once pristine workshop now decimated by this chaos. The rag, in the meantime, had been set alight by the fire it was meant to smother and was smoking thickly with the myriad of substances it had picked up in its difficult life in its weave. Tony only frowned at it, and turned his attention down to the smattering of dismantled armor pieces that were underfoot, lifting one leg carefully to figure out where to step next. "He was supposed to be getting rid of these," he amended, and kicked a plate through the soot toward the scrap bins under the bench.