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Throwing projectiles at highly trained killing machines was generally a bad plan, but that never stopped Tony. Neither Bucky nor Nebula reacted when something soft landed in their laps.

Bucky picked up a black shirt with the phrase “Cyborg Assassin Club” on the front. Nebula was holding one as if it might spontaneously combust.

“What is this impractical garment?”

Bucky shrugged.

“You bond over shared interests, you get matching T-shirts! You don’t like them?” He wilted.

Nebula and Bucky exchanged a quick look. “Acceptable,” she declared.

“Thanks, Doll.”

Tony beamed. “Guess how many gun ranges are in your club house!”