Rogue really didn't know what to make of any of this. Tony and the jet, the presents, all of it seemingly out of the blue when they'd barely seen each other. She was a little wary of it all, to be honest, because Tony was Tony, but a part of her was hopeful that all of this was as good as it seemed.

She loved Tony. She'd told him that much before, but it had never been with any sort of pressure attached, and she'd rarely said it after the first time because he'd taken it so well. And when she saw him standing there, so clearly nervous or uncertain or... something, she started to get nervous too.

"I made it," she echoed as she moved a little closer, bag in hand.