It was an excruciatingly long time, possibly whole seconds, for no one to be talking. Tony's eyes darted, around the room, sure the shadows were never that dark, making DATA spin to get infrared coverage of every black corner. His lip remained raised in skepticism, his pinkies lifted where he barely touched ouija on the ground. "That can't be what you're going with," Tony complained almost immediately. "That doesn't work on anyone, 'tell me what's happening', jesus, might as well ask about the weather. At least make it sound appealing. 'I can't wait to hear what you have to say'."