"See, now I just have no damn idea what you're talking about," he says to the other man. He rubs one hand over his head, and after a moment decides it's....probably better that one of them have some kind of idea what's going on, even if that idea is the kind of insect that normally eats hand knit sweaters.

So he follows, stepping inside a room he doesn't recognize but increasingly has a feeling he should, just from the face...Tones? Is making. "Well, I'll still take it black with sugar. I think." It feels right to say that, just like waffles had been the first thing to pop into his head when he was looking for the nonexistent corner store.

"What, exactly, are dust moths?" He asks this after another moment. He watches Tony put a kettle on the stove and rubs his fingers on the band of the watch...thing on his wrist. "And how have they fucked with my head?"