Ronan came over with the warm blanket, swinging it around Tony's shoulders. He leaned in, one hand coming up to trace the scar. "That looks like it hurt when it happened," he said, even as he slipped his own shirt off. It took a moment of thought, as he did it, to blur and then dissolve the simple glamour he kept over his own scar, harsh and angry in the center of his chest for all that it was a few years old now.