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BravadoWith a large bravado sweep of his arm, Tony cleared the table's surface of scattered biochemistry equipment and scabby papers, sending them flying and clattering onto the lab's steel flooring and giving himself the space to lever himself up. He perched on the edge of the lab table, feet dangling aimlessly and now at Bruce's eye level, or perhaps several centimetres taller. The luminescent contraption in Tony's chest penetrated the cloth of his top: a navy opaque blue, easily mistaken for black. Bruce stood, head tilted to one side in a gesture of intrigue.
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"Take a look," Tony urged, taking his shirt between his index finger and thumb.
Bruce squinted, the lights in the lab dull and radiating a confined cyan-white glow.
"But I can already see it," he said.
"No, I mean take a proper look," Tony reinforced, and began to tease his shirt up to his collar bone with fluid gracefulness, as though he had rehearsed before a mirror previously in preparation. "I know you want to, Banner. Come on!"