When he knocked on the door after his hike up to the third floor, Tony was a mixture of excitement and dread. In the course of his armor development he had his share of blunt force trauma (light bonks to Pepper finding him laid out in a mess of gold-alloy with the ice pack on stand-by) to auto-surgical procedures (mostly revolving around the arc reactor) but that had all been performed by himself. Or most of it, anyway. And what hadn't had been performed by, well, human hands.

Rocket was no slouch, but he was a trigger happy raccoon.

Yet, crazy times called for crazy measures and crazy people to take them. There was something in him that was confident that Rocket was exactly the brand of crazy he needed. His suit had been beyond sub-standard and there was no longer room for hesitation.

"Ready when you are." He called from the other side of the door, unconsciously massaging his chest.