"So I'm told." And it always seemed to get a good reaction, so of course he'd maintain the cheese for as long as people seemed to like it.

Gladio shifted to the side some, so that he was leaning a little more to the arm of the couch and Tony was able to recline a little more against him, when his friend spoke next. He sighed. This wasn't an argument he could win, he got that. Tony was wrong though. He wasn't beautiful. He'd accept handsome or something like that, but beauty? Beauty was for soft lines, delicate features... Gladio didn't have a single soft line in his body. He was rugged, he was scarred and rough around the edges. But if Tony was going to see that as beauty, who was he to argue?

"... fine. Whatever you say, Tony." He replied, resigned to his fate.