"You're you. So. You know. Anyway you went in. Perfect." His hand falls back to his lap and he looks into his glass. It's quick. Snap of someone's fingers and that grin fades and a thousand yard stare returns. Like his whiskey might tell him some ultimate truth. And when nothing comes of that he just finishes it.
One tilt back of the glass and it's all gone. Burning all the way down. And he doesn't know why he does it but the next words out of his mouth might as well suck the air right out of the room. "I was having a party. When it happened." He recalls this with a little exhale of amusement. The grin returns but there's an emotional charge behind it that he's trying to pretend is anything but.
Yet his voice is casual, even as he starts, "I came back from MIT to spend Christmas with them, he and I got into it like we always do, and they took off. Like always. Don't know why I thought it'd be any different that year. Anyway. I threw a party and used all his liquor. Like that'd teach him a lesson. Then the cops showed up around four in the morning. I didn't even think to send everyone home right away."
Except it doesn't feel that way. It never does. It only makes it worse. "I drank then, too," it feels like this is admitting something. His eyes lift to Steve's but only for a few seconds at best before he looks away. Like he can't bear to see what he might think of him after all that. He feels antsy again. "Everything I could get my hands on. Threw up. Jarvis was in-between cleaning it all up and trying to keep me from taking a car out to the scene." He makes a move to get up, because now he definitely needs another glass. "You know. Just in case you ever had any doubts that I've ever handled something like this correctly." Tony's not sure there is a way to do that. But if there is, he's certainly never been anything but incorrect.
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One tilt back of the glass and it's all gone. Burning all the way down. And he doesn't know why he does it but the next words out of his mouth might as well suck the air right out of the room. "I was having a party. When it happened." He recalls this with a little exhale of amusement. The grin returns but there's an emotional charge behind it that he's trying to pretend is anything but.
Yet his voice is casual, even as he starts, "I came back from MIT to spend Christmas with them, he and I got into it like we always do, and they took off. Like always. Don't know why I thought it'd be any different that year. Anyway. I threw a party and used all his liquor. Like that'd teach him a lesson. Then the cops showed up around four in the morning. I didn't even think to send everyone home right away."
It's worse than not talking about it, maybe. Pretending to be so blasé about it. Like he wasn't just a handful of moments ago close to a full blown meltdown. But how else can he neatly compartmentalize all of it if he doesn't carry on that way? It's what he's always done. Even if right now it's in effort of trying to do something else. Something far out of his wheelhouse. And... maybe a little of it is just this need. This need to get it out so that maybe the ache holing up in his chest will lessen a little.
Except it doesn't feel that way. It never does. It only makes it worse. "I drank then, too," it feels like this is admitting something. His eyes lift to Steve's but only for a few seconds at best before he looks away. Like he can't bear to see what he might think of him after all that. He feels antsy again. "Everything I could get my hands on. Threw up. Jarvis was in-between cleaning it all up and trying to keep me from taking a car out to the scene." He makes a move to get up, because now he definitely needs another glass. "You know. Just in case you ever had any doubts that I've ever handled something like this correctly." Tony's not sure there is a way to do that. But if there is, he's certainly never been anything but incorrect.