[Of course Quentin is watching Tony shmooze his way into a dumb outfit through the window. This is what passes for entertainment here! He will, however, refrain from snide remarks. Because he's mature now, okay? Judgmental looks, though, are still fair game. But Stark is probably used to those. Also he's immediately getting down to Serious Business, and it doesn't seem appropriate to interrupt. But mostly it's that other thing.

Quentin does cock his head to the side and give him a skeptical look at those questions about his brain.] My guy, you have met telepaths before, right? I mean, I know Chuck likes erasing memories, but surely you old farts get together to talk about, I dunno, the radio days or something? You and Emma get your nails done, bitch about the proletariat?

[Okay, getting off-topic. Quentin rolls his eyes and gets back on track.]

My brain matter is made of brain matter, dude. The part that's blocked? It's, you know, in the mindscape. Astral plane. Whatever. It's psychic shit, man, what do you want? [See, Quentin operates mostly on raw talent and vibes. He doesn't spend enough time around humans to know how to explain this stuff! He briefly adjusts his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily.]

Look. If you really want, I guess I can show you. [Does he want to invite Tony Stark to Blue Skidoo into his brain? No. Not even a little bit. But, loathe as Quentin is to admit it, Stark does have a knack for figuring shit out, even when out of his depth. Especially when out of his depth, to be completely honest.]