Whatever Tony had done to his hand was going to have to be good enough, and he'd find out what it was when it mattered and they were back in the light. Donnie was a shadow, ringed with the softest light from the glow of the moon that managed to creep this far into the building, the edge of him watery and flickering as the bats swarmed around the doorway. Still feeling his way around, Tony had to reach for him to get his attention, only for his hand to immediately spring away when it finally touched Donnie's, thinking he had been misdirected in the moving shadows and felt some new, unfamiliar threat in the dead cold of it. He leaned in closer, feeling through the dark to find the kid's arm this time, and search his way down to that unnervingly numb skin to reorient himself, then squeeze, hard and demanding with a question he couldn't vocalize.