Tony watched the confounded delivery guy try to make heads or tails of the robot for another minute, before shutting off the video feed and getting to his feet. He heads to the kitchen first, to get drinks and some Lactaid.

"It doesn't have a name yet. It's one of a series of six. They deliver intra-office supplies and things. Whatever's needed. Toilet paper. New pens. Coffee filters."

They were efficient, but not terribly speedy, and Tony listened fir the elevator to ding past the foyer. He handed Peter a Coke, had gotten himself a dry orange seltzer.