Three
They’re watching a movie about Captain America with their Dad in some half-assed attempt at family bonding. This whole situation feels like someone (Mom) abruptly reminded Dad he had kids he should spend time with and this was the man’s scrambling efforts to accomplish that. Tony is shocked it’s going as well as it is, because Sandy isn’t good at sitting still and focusing on one thing at a time, and honestly neither is Tony, but the movie is just hilariously bad.
Dad keeps yelling at their home projector every couple minutes about inaccuracies, and Sandy keeps giggling every time he does like it’s the funniest thing on the planet. Dad, genius that he is, notices and starts making his insults more absurd and elaborate until even Tony’s laughing.
(Because sure, this might not be a great effort on Dad’s part, but it is an effort, and Sandy’s smiling while holding both their hands, so Tony tries his best to enjoy it for what it is.)
The movie is unfortunately blessedly almost done. Captain America is fist fighting Hitler while their plane dramatically crashes into an icy tundra. Dad is groaning like his soul is being exorcized from his body.
Sandy is quiet, looking at the screen with green eyes that seem to glow in the dim light.
“Sandman?” Tony asks, noticing the shift in her mood. “You good, kiddo?”
Sandy doesn’t answer for a while, just holds his hand tighter.
The movie ends, and Dad has to go back to work. Tony smiles, and lies when he says it’s fine.
Sandy is still staring at the now blank screen, still holding Tony’s hand.
Quietly, sadly, she says, “He had a date.”