The rest of this sneaking around spy stuff was already making Tony feel wildly underprepared, and he considered the panel with first a blank resignation, then a scrunch of his nose up at Cayde so he knew how Tony felt about crawling around in ducts before they committed. He had to lean precariously far away from the ladder, reaching out toward the vent, and making the people inside the dining room that he had shocked press their noses flat to the glass to try to see where he had gone. He could reach one rattling corner, blindly flicking the screw the rest of the way loose to send it sailing away, to work his fingers under the metal and wrench it the rest of the way off, just about flinging himself clear with it as it splintered free from the side of the ship.