"You know, I really like hearing about your Mr. Stark kid. It's like hearing about another Jim, one who actually has a clue about how to get things done! Mostly Jim just lucks into things, not that I'm complaining! I like being alive. But he's not really the sort of person you'd expect to be saving the world."

But he did. And McCoy knew just how smart Jim really was, and that he probably didn't even realize how he managed to find answers where there shouldn't be any. Just because people told you you were smart didn't mean you had to believe it. Or embrace it. Jim never had, not the way it sounded like Stark did. But it was interesting they both knew a similar type of man. And loved him so dearly. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Jim died and there wasn't another miracle. He just . . . couldn't even imagine it. Refused to.

McCoy glanced around too, noting the lack of anything that looked like a way to get out, "How do you think you'd get the doors open Pete? You have a pry bar in your pocket?" He gave the kid a smile, but he wasn't dumb enough to discount someone due to age. If the kid had an idea, he'd give it all the weight and consideration as if it came from someone his own age. Years didn't confer wisdom, experience did.