Tony had tried to get the message out, subtle, telling the few people he saw to send e-mails, and hoped that Ghost would pick up on them. He should've had more faith. He should have held on for that, because he'd been waiting, but his hope had all but run out. He couldn't help but worry that it wouldn't happen. He'd be stuck here for longer.

He'd been surprised with the approach. He'd always known how to identify the former enemy. Ghost was subtle, and good at what he did, but the years of fighting with him, and then later simply watching him during his time with the Thunderbolts, it had taught him a lot. And then they worked together here in the City.

Now, now he had an idea. Ghost was his only hope on getting out of here. When he'd first approached, an offer with a gun, he'd thought, considered for a moment, but he couldn't. Not yet. He couldn't let the imports fall, he wouldn't. Not without a fight, and he knew he was needed. Extremis was needed.

But the approach, it hit him hard, hearing the vocalizers failing, looking at the cracked pieces, the wear on his armor. Ghost needed repairs. He had a hidden bank account. Enough to build a suit, enough to get himself running again. If this didn't work... Tony made a decision. He held up a hand, and scratched on a nearby sheet. He left it there. It was an account number. He knew Ghost would notice it, he'd be curious. If this didn't work out, there would be a chance to fix at least him. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe.

"I did," he answered, turning. "I'm glad you got my message," he paused, and looked around. "Can you check the room for bugs?"