Mavuika finally brought Banner to Malibu.
This was a decision he made during the flight; his apartment didn't have men's clothing, he had lived alone for over a decade, and the most neutral clothing in his closet was his casual shirt.
Moreover, the Dr.'s current state was truly miserable: shirtless, wearing a pair of mud-stained, wide-legged pants that could fall off at any moment, shivering in the morning breeze, arms tightly clutching himself, like a stray cat soaked in the rain.
If he went to the streets of New York looking for a clothing store in this state, he would likely be taken away by the Police in less than ten minutes; even without considering his wanted face, the charge of'streaking' alone would be enough for him to suffer social death.
Going to Tony's place was much simpler.
Tony's Villa had a walk-in closet, and in Tony's closet, there were dozens of custom suits; although Tony was narcissistic, at least he didn't mind lending a few pieces of clothing to someone in distress.
Besides, Tony should be very interested in Banner.
When Mavuika landed with Banner on the terrace of Tony's Villa, Tony looked surprised; he hadn't expected him to return so soon.
And...
"...Mavuika." Tony put down his coffee cup, walked over slowly, and scanned Banner from head to toe.
"Why did you come back right after leaving? And you brought back a... naked man?"
Mavuika released Banner's arm; the latter stumbled two steps immediately, steadying himself by holding the door frame: "He has pants."
Tony looked down at those mud-stained, wide-legged pants, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"...Fine, let's say he has pants." He looked up, stared at Banner's pale face, and suddenly narrowed his eyes.
"Wait, I think I know you."
Banner stood there awkwardly, one hand clutching his chest, the other not knowing where to put it.
"You are..." Tony frowned and thought for two seconds, then his eyes lit up.
"Bruce Banner? The physicist? I've read your paper, the one about Gamma Ray and anti-electron collision; although I don't agree with some of the points, overall, it's quite interesting."
He extended his hand: "Tony Stark."
Banner was stunned for a moment, then subconsciously reached out to shake it: "I... I know."
Tony's hand was warm, his grip moderate, carrying a just-right warmth honed in social situations.
But in those brown eyes, besides the polite welcome, there was something more active—that was the gleam of a researcher seeing one of his own kind.
"Come in, come in." Tony stepped aside, making an exaggerated "welcome" gesture.
"Mavuika's friend is my friend!"
Banner opened his mouth, wanting to explain something, but Tony had already turned to Mavuika: "Where did you pick him up?"
"Harlem." Mavuika walked into the living room and sat on the sofa, his tone as relaxed as if he were talking about the weather.
"There was a little trouble over there just now..."
"A little trouble?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "You mean that four-meter-tall yellow monster and that green guy fighting him?"
Mavuika glanced at him.
Tony shrugged: "It's all over the news; the whole World is watching. I just turned on the TV and saw you catching the monster's fist with one hand in the street... Seriously, Mavuika, you were really high-profile this time."
"Can't help it, the situation was urgent, human lives were at stake." Mavuika shook his head, then pointed at Banner: "He needs clothes."
Tony turned to look at Banner.
Banner was still standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders hunched, trying to expose the smallest surface area to the air.
The morning breeze blew in from the open floor-to-ceiling window, and a layer of fine goosebumps rose on his skin.
Tony looked at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed.
"Follow me." He turned and walked toward the walk-in closet.
"I have plenty of clothes, although you might need to roll up the sleeves a few times. You're much thinner than me, Dr. Banner; it seems the life of hiding all these years hasn't let you eat well."
Banner hesitated for a moment and looked at Mavuika.
Mavuika nodded at him.
Only then did Banner follow Tony's steps into the walk-in closet, which was larger than an average person's entire bedroom.
Tony opened one of the cabinet doors; inside, dozens of shirts were hung neatly—white, blue, gray—all custom-made.
"Pick whatever you like." He said, then leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, sizing up Banner with a researcher's gaze.
"So... that green guy, is it really you?"
Banner's hand stopped in mid-air.
He turned his head, looking at Tony with complex eyes.
"...You've heard of it too?"
"Of course." Tony's tone was understated, but there was no hint of a smile in his eyes.
"You've been wanted by the Military for three years, Dr. Banner. 'Gamma Ray experiment accident,' 'Bruce Banner missing,' 'Hulk'—I have impressions of all these news reports, but I didn't expect..."
He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting in a meaningful arc.
"I didn't expect that the big green guy was actually you transformed, and that you could change back."
Banner picked out a white shirt, unfolded it to check the size, and then put it on.
The sleeves were indeed three inches too long. He started rolling them up, moving slowly, as if sorting out his own thoughts.
"What do you want to ask?" He finally spoke, without looking up.
Tony smiled.
This Bruce Banner was sharper than imagined. Well, it made sense; to survive such an experimental accident, to evade the Military's pursuit for three years, and to maintain sanity after turning into a monster, this person was definitely not stupid.
"A lot." Tony said, walking to the wine cabinet nearby and pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
"How do you transform? What does it feel like after transforming? Is your consciousness still there? Or is it completely taken over by that big guy?"
He took a sip of the drink, his gaze landing on Banner, and continued to ask.
"Do your clothes rip every time you transform? Doesn't that mean you've had to buy a lot of clothes over these three years? And—"
He paused, his expression becoming subtle.
"What material are your pants made of, and why don't they rip?"
Banner's hand, while rolling the sleeve, stopped completely.
He looked up at Tony, his face wearing a complex expression mixed with embarrassment and helplessness.
"...Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious." Tony spread his hands: "This is a scientific question!"
He looked at Banner, lowering his voice: "When you've rested, we need to have a good talk. I'm really interested in your research. You know, the relationship between Gamma Ray and anger management; it's a very interesting topic."
Banner forced a smile with difficulty: "...Thanks."
Five minutes later, Banner finally finished dressing. Tony's white shirt looked a bit loose on him, and the sleeves had to be rolled up three times to reveal his wrists.
The pants were barely a fit; Tony found a pair of unopened casual pants, the waist was a bit large, but at least he didn't have to hold them up while walking.