[ The colors alone would be distinctive enough, but those marks ... there's no faking the scars left by a gunshot or a sufficiently high-powered taser. Not when those marks line up exactly with what One wears, right down to the hairline cracks from more mundane impacts. The chestplate in particular shows signs of repainting; the arm piece that goes with it is peculiarly cracked and resealed with some sort of polymer, while still keeping the cracks themselves quite visually obvious. An impact from a fall - one that, if asked, One simply blamed on "gravity" during one of their excursions to the turbines. It just can't be anyone else's armor. And the odds of it being some kind of costume, with that perfect level of detail ...
Meanwhile, Hiro is drop dead exhausted and making his way home on foot. Otherwise he'd be here before dawn as per usual; this time, though, he's achingly slow in trying to get home. Everything hurts, most of all the hollow hole in his chest his heart ought to be. He's had to pull over a few times already to cry in an alleyway; once he gets home, he has to have his mask perfect. For the sake of his brother and his aunt both. Callaghan told him to let his brother help, but Hiro can't see how that's a possibility. Not without knowing everything ...
When he's most of the way home, he gets a text on his phone from Baymax: Your absence is noted. Please respond. Makes an irritated noise at it, clicks it off. He'll just tell his aunt that he got called out for a test for his prosthetic project or something late and he overslept. As exhausted as he is, he doesn't even think that his brother might be the one who noticed he was gone. He just nips around the side of the restaurant, taking his usual precautions to stay out of surveillance range (although with the mafia mostly dismantled, who's looking?) as he scales the outside of the building. Winces, curses as he grabs a handhold and puts all of his weight on his bad arm. But he's tired and he just wants to fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the day, dammit. So he doesn't even notice his brother sitting on his bed with the armor until he's at the window, both hands on the sill.
And then he freezes. Oh no. Oh no no no what is he going to say now. He can't even get down off the sill without hurting himself, but he sure as hell can't just come inside. Maybe his brother hasn't seen him yet... ]
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Meanwhile, Hiro is drop dead exhausted and making his way home on foot. Otherwise he'd be here before dawn as per usual; this time, though, he's achingly slow in trying to get home. Everything hurts, most of all the hollow hole in his chest his heart ought to be. He's had to pull over a few times already to cry in an alleyway; once he gets home, he has to have his mask perfect. For the sake of his brother and his aunt both. Callaghan told him to let his brother help, but Hiro can't see how that's a possibility. Not without knowing everything ...
When he's most of the way home, he gets a text on his phone from Baymax: Your absence is noted. Please respond. Makes an irritated noise at it, clicks it off. He'll just tell his aunt that he got called out for a test for his prosthetic project or something late and he overslept. As exhausted as he is, he doesn't even think that his brother might be the one who noticed he was gone. He just nips around the side of the restaurant, taking his usual precautions to stay out of surveillance range (although with the mafia mostly dismantled, who's looking?) as he scales the outside of the building. Winces, curses as he grabs a handhold and puts all of his weight on his bad arm. But he's tired and he just wants to fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the day, dammit. So he doesn't even notice his brother sitting on his bed with the armor until he's at the window, both hands on the sill.
And then he freezes. Oh no. Oh no no no what is he going to say now. He can't even get down off the sill without hurting himself, but he sure as hell can't just come inside. Maybe his brother hasn't seen him yet... ]