7609/Memory Lane is cold and dark

Memory Lane is cold and dark
Date of Scene:	24 May 2019
Location:	Penthouse - Stark Tower
Synopsis:	Pepper checks on Tony, who is dealing with the past.
Cast of Characters:	Iron Man, Pepper Potts

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Iron Man has posed:
Whether Tony is drunk, or not responding, or a third option (dead and bleeding on the carpet?) is unknown. However, a query to JARVIS about why a call isn't going through is reasonable, and JARVIS is able to answer ... to some degree.

"Mr. Stark is not injured or in peril, but has instructed that all calls be refused at this time," JARVIS answers Pepper smoothly, an apologetic note in his voice. Tony put a law down very directly, a 'ALL CALLS' statement. It could suggest a number of things, one of them being drunk, to make such a sweeping declaration about his evening's state.

There are some other recent clues, with a check into what he's been doing, that JARVIS can share: primarily, working on something related to sentinels. But Tony has also, for some reason, dragged out a lot of old photo albums, pictures of his family, a variety of things that usually have no place anywhere near the CEO. Yet, all of those were pulled. Weirder, that they are the physical copies, not just the ones scanned in that can easily be accessed. Something else is going on.

The penthouse itself is something Pepper can access, physically. Entry to it is open to her, though the dimmed lighting inside leaves a good amount to the imagination. Tony isn't immediately obvious upon entry, but the array of photo albums and some other disks and things are in a few various piles on the coffee table in the center area of Tony's main living space. On the screens are some paused Sentinel designs, one of them unpaused, spinning slowly, a diagnostic of the inside of a creepy robotic skull.

And there are signs of alcohol, here and there. And some food plates, to go with the scent of chinese food located in the kitchen.

Pepper Potts has posed:
This has been going on long enough, and with Sentinels, with the mess with Steve the other week, and everything else going on? Pepper couldn't stand it any more. She was worried. She was tired of picking up the pieces. And the fact he didn't take her call? That was the last straw. Fortunately, Pepper hadn't been on her way home yet, working late to keep the compnay going and organized when Tony is distracted on one of his other binges. So, when the phone isn't picked up, she rides the lift all the way up to the penthouse.

"Tony?....Tony! What is going on?" Pepper calls as she enters the familiar room. Prada shoes carry her across familiar floor as she looks across the mess around her. Food plates, drink glasses, most of them empty. The room smells like chinese food and good scotch. Her nose turns a bit. Instinctively, she does up the second button on her tailored suit jacket, as if the more messy the room around her looked the more she needed to look perfectly put together. "...Tony? Where are you...? Where did you get all these... albums from? Is that your father?" She asks, picking up a stack of old photos with a deeper line of confusion across her faintly freckled brow.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yes, some of them are. Most of those are Edwin Jarvis," Tony answers, in a muffled way, from his bedroom. He's on his bed on his back. The bed is currently made, and Tony is sort of sprawled diagonally across it, one leg hanging off the near corner. He's dressed, though it's for personal quiet time to himself, the style of dress for hiding out in a bunker; his attire is often an echo of his 'mode'.

In this case, Tony is in dark blue lounge pants, barefoot, and a black tank top. It's thin enough to showcase his arc reactor, but the larger message is his lack of interest in self-care at the moment. The tank top rode up, his abdomen out. He doesn't care. One hand is mushed across his face, the forearm against his mouth, which explains the muffled answer.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"He was a handsome man, Edwin..." Pepper echoes a moment later, daring to take a few moments to look over the photos. Most of them she'd never seen, more family, things, not the ones from the internet. Especially not of Jarvis, he wasn't a very public man. "His wife looks lovely..." She smiles a bit more at a particularly lovely photo, probably from the 60s. But then she sets them down and continues to seek him out.

A minute later Pepper is picking her way down the hallway and through the open door to his bedroom. She doesn't wait for an invitation, she just comes right in. After this many years of service, and with that many drinks in the room, she feels she's earned the right. While there is some disappointment in her eyes, her brows are mainly knit in concern as she looks him over in that completely careless state. "Oh, Tony..." Even more daring, she steps over to his side and presumes to perch on the edge of the bed next to him. She still smells like the faint drift of vanilla and Chanel, despite it being the end of the day. "...what's... going on? Why no calls? Talk to me..."

Iron Man has posed:
"I've got work to focus on, I can't keep getting pestered," Tony announces, as if unaware that she's actually come in the room at first: or at least, unsure about her proximity. He then pulls his arm up a little bit, looks at her from under his wrist ... and then puts it back down across his eyes. He lowers his voice to a more reasonable level considering where she is. He seems out of it, but not as bad as it could have been. If he continues, though, it will continue down that path. There IS a glass on a bedside table, and it isn't empty yet. It's not quite in his reach, he'd have to roll over to get at it.

"Comparing Sentinels to our little Sentinel-friend. And it's just getting worse, what it looks like. Murder robots, and I'm going to have to do something about it," Tony begins. All the speech is very flippant, and has nothing to do with the photo albums: which probably is zero surprise.

Pepper Potts has posed:
He might be dodging, but Pepper isn't going to let it and she sees it coming a hundred miles away. She smirks quietly, pulling one leg up onto the bed, knee bent, so she can entirely face him without fully crawling onto the bed. "Tony... you don't have old family photos out because you are working on the sentinel project. You also don't smell like a distillery when you're in your lab. So, while I agree the Sentinels are an issue, that's not what this is about. At all." Pepper reaches one hand out, daring to try to touch the side of his arm. "Talk to me... Please. I'm here. I listen better than that glass, I promise you."

Pepper had come up to berate him. She was tired. SHe's been juggling far too much of the company. He's put her off one too many times. But catching him in this state has simply melted all of her defenses and impatience has been replaced by nothing but worry.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony makes one of his unhappy faces. It isn't a scowl, it isn't even a frown: it's a wrinkle of nose and scrinch of eyes. "Maybe, but it doesn't ask me personal questions," Tony replies, with a thick laugh from his lower chest. It ends in a cough. "At least, not until I've had a LOT more than this, anyway," he jokes.

Still, he presses his palm to his nose, shoving his own nose to the side a little as he presses hard into his eye socket with the heel of his thumb. "Another blast out of the past came by the Tower; someone that knew dad, knew Edwin. I pulled out the pictures for her to look at; probably should have just left them in storage." Tony's voice grows tense and more serious, as some pain leaks in. He does roll towards her, and puts his head in her lap, eyes finally opening a little bit, lips pulled to one side expressively. And sad.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Well, that was... Intimate. A touch more intimate than she could ever remember them being, but she's not even going to question it. Not when he's looking like that, half broken, so sad, and he's actually dared reach out to her for comfort in some way. Gently, her fingertips come down, nails very softly combing through his hair as her other hand reaches out to slowly brush across his arm. She lets him slump and relax as deeply in her lap as he wants. "Oh, Tony..." She breathes out, her heart breaking for him and she doesn't even entirely understand why. It doesn't matter. She's still feeling it.

"That was... good of you. You wouldn't have kept the pictures if they didn't... mean something. Hell, you kept his *voice*, Tony... it's okay to miss him. Them." She's not talking about his father until the second correction. Otherwise, it's Jarvis. She knows that much. Generally knows better than to bring up his parents at all.

Iron Man has posed:
"I mean, my father never said he loved me, certainly didn't really even like me. That's another story entirely," Tony says, with a quick, forceful laugh. He can be funny when he's talking about his father; that pain has a sizable callus on it. Being poked about it for many, many years certainly gave a thick skin where his father is concerned, in pretending to be okay with the cold father he grew up with. It just was what it was.

"But Edwin was there. He gave a shit when I came home for summer. So he mattered. Until he wasn't there, anymore." Blah! Tony clears his throat and chuckles, even if nothing is funny, and moves the hand off his face to pat her knee once. "If I hadn't kept the pictures there wouldn't be anything left, really. That and what I make, anyway," he says, gesturing loosely upwards, meaning JARVIS.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"You're here. If you hadn't kept the pictures... or made JARVIS... you'd still be here. You're left. You are what that man raised, and taught, and loved... And that means the world to a lot of people. Myself included." Pepper whispers gently, her fingertips with their perfectly painted, wine dark nails still slowly combing through his dark hair, "But you kept the pictures. They are worth having too. And I'm sure whoever this person was, well... if they cared about Mr. Jarvis, they were thankful to see those too. But YOU are his legacy, Tony. Not just a computer." There is no doubt in Pepper's voice as she gives that statement. And the tone is thankful, caring, protective. A dozen emotions she doesn't let herself show in the office, but this is a strange night, so she's just letting them out.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony resists the outpouring, he tenses, and sits up. He's still in easy reach, but the vulnerability of laying on his back in her lap while talking about his loss was too much. The talons are cold and deep, from what's gone, and what he's been dwelling on long before she came into the penthouse.

"I have copies of them, digitally, of course," Tony says, as if that somehow was related. It is, in his mind. "The pictures, not the men," he adds, with a smirked laugh at himself ... for amusing himself. He stays sitting up, back towards her, but angles his head to see her a little out of the side of his eye.

"I'm what's left, that's true. Just me," Tony agrees. His eyes move up the wall of the room, but his gaze is somewhere outside of there. Into the past, maybe. "I think the visitor wanted to find one of them here. It's been a long time since they were. Still. I saw her stare at me."

Pepper Potts has posed:
And there the intimacy goes. He let her support him, for just a minute. It was something. But now he's pulling away and Pepper lets out a slow breath, allowing him to remain distant a minute. She respects the sanctity of his bed and slips her high heels off, so she doesn't get any dirt on his sheets. Now in nothing but stockinged feet beneath her carefully tailored and pleated slacks, she pulls both her legs up on the bed and folds them crossed beneath her. She's sitting a bit closer to him now and fully facing him. It's a strangely personal pose, so different from the primp and proper office Pepper.

"Well, they aren't here and you are. This person was staring at YOU. Tony Stark. Not either of them. And it takes more than one night to get to know you. If they are lucky enough, well... Maybe they'll get the chance. For now, have you *actually* eaten tonight? When was the last time you slept?" Her fingertips come up and, unless he jerks away from her, she combs those nails through his hair one more time before allowing her hand to come rest on his shoulder. It's still the most touch they've had in ages. Possibly ever.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yeah. I guess it's feeling like ... the last time somebody gave me THAT stare, I was about eighteen. In the shadow of my father, proving myself. Seeing him on me, but not /him/." Since that time, Tony's surged ahead, out of that shadow of even any talk of his father. Twenty years, and some change, of being THE Tony Stark. Nobody references him needing to shape up to Howard anymore. And as always, though, things turn towards Howard Stark, instead of Edwin. When Tony wants to change out of being sad into being resentful, it aims at his father.

Suddenly, though, Tony releases a breath and pivots towards her, placing his forehead on hers with a mild bonk, and draws a hand up to the side of her neck, attempting to hook fingers behind her head, at her nape. It isn't rough, but it isn't /soft/, either.

"I had Chinese. Sleep, I don't know. JARVIS knows," Tony says, in the same way he might have told someone else that Pepper knows his schedule. He doesn't have to know or keep track.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper was going to say something to reassure him, something about how Edwin would be proud, he's done better than his father, but just as her soft, glossed pink lips are about to open to protest, but then he's there. Right there. This close and even smelling like scotch it's *Tony* and he's distracting when he's this intense. Sure, they had that one kiss, but that was different than being in a truly intimate, emotional, trusting moment. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch for just a moment. It was... Nice.

"...Tony Stark, you are trying to distract me. And as nice as it is..." Goodness, it was nice. There was something almost... Hungry in her voice? Part of her wanted to be distracted very much. The rest of her was still quite worried. "You need rest. And... you can't run away from these feelings by getting handsy. You're not your father. Whatever that person saw, I am sure they saw that. You've... you've grown into a man Edwin Jarvis would be proud of. I know that. So... keep making him proud. I have every confidence you can." She finally manages to get out the words she planned, but she's also not pulled back one inch, so each word comes with a soft breath against his chin.

Iron Man has posed:
"My father," Tony replies, "was /very/ handsy." Tony releases her neck in order to tap one finger on the side of her throat, just /so/, which reveals some of the drunken quality to his current state, that had otherwise started to be buried in his emotional weight. He swallows, though, and stays quiet, dark eyes studying her face, his brows down some in a focused look. Dark eyes squint, as he takes her in a little more, seeming to actually be listening.

"I don't wonder about what Edwin Jarvis thought. He told me," Tony clears his throat and rolls his eyes up and away with a very firm blink: his signal for NOT having any tears appear. Nope.

Pepper Potts has posed:
The tap on her throat gets a bit more of a chuckle and a half smile. Both sad and enjoying, because she knows there's still pain behind all of us. As nice as the flirting was, it was still a distraction. "Yes... I heard stories about your father. But YOU are not HIM..." Even if Pepper enjoys the handsy. This wasn't exactly the time. Her fingertips come up, daring to trace across his cheek and ever so gently at the shell of his ear even as he looks upwards. It's a far more tender touch than seductive. Just something to let him know he's not alone. She's here. She truly does care.

"And if he was here... He'd tell you again. You've done... so much, Tony. Hell. I'm proud of you. Even when I'm frustrated you've been drinking all day, missed your 4 o'clock, and I've been sending apologies left right and center. I'm proud of you. It's okay to... miss him." She whispers against the side of his mouth. Her second arm comes up, fingertips wrapping gently around the back of his ribs.

Iron Man has posed:
Allowing anyone in is a difficult place for Tony Stark, but also, Pepper isn't pushing on him in a way that causes his defenses to truly fly into place. He shrugs, and turns his head aside now, though. But he hasn't shut her down, not really; the actions for that are different than these. This is more of him taking a moment to collect himself out of feeling things too deeply: going too far down that track.

The most clear indication that he hasn't pushed her away is that he moves his arm out and puts it around her, drawing her to his side, instead of directly in front. He just needed to look away, refocus his gaze on the wall, steady himself.

"I am pretty damn great," Tony agrees, with his cheeky, familiar strength returning.

Pepper Potts has posed:
The sound she makes when he pulls her against him is a content one. So quiet, almost not audible, but it's a happy little breath with vocalization from her throat. Appreciative, almost a happy sigh as she tucks herself in next to him. She doesn't push him to look back at her or open more wounds. She just tightens her opposite arm around his back and lets her head sink into the crook of his neck for a heartbeat or two, her nose brushing stubble on the way down. She was warm and almost pocket size against him. SOmehow, she just fit there. Like everything else with Stark Industries -- she just made it work.

His comment gets a slightly choked laugh from her and a swat of her free hand. "Yes. Yes you are. But that's not why you were up here drinking yourself stupid. And, if you HAVE eaten... sleeping is probably not a bad choice. Tomorrow is still a business day, you know."

Iron Man has posed:
"So, for the record, sleeping is an idea that Ms. Potts came up with," Tony says, clearing his throat. He's trying to pull out of the emotional place, to surface from it. He was feeling things too strongly, missing people, feeling loss. The hurt was real.

"Is she suggesting sleeping here? Because I suspect that's the case," Tony decides, swallowing. A smile comes up, the charisma mask reforming, to turn his head and grin against her cheek. His embrace changes, to a looser one, as he makes a real effort to switch gears, into, perhaps, the version of himself that he likes to project. Not the one that can be harmed, but the bulletproof Iron Man.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"...She is suggesting sleeping here. But that means Tony actually... lets himself feel things and doesn't turn into magazine interview Tony, hm?" Pepper knows him. THrough and through. She knows the version that he's slipping into projecting and knows how much he's emotionally pulling away from her by doing it. She then turns her head and places the softest, most gentle single kiss against the corner of his mouth before she slowly pulls away and lets go.

She doesn't let go to get up, but just so she can reach down and undo both those buttons she'd fixed together when she came into the messy penthouse. She shrugs out of her gray suit jacket and (rather carelessly for Pepper) tosses it aside onto a chair near the bed. Now she's just in a silk camisole, that vanilla powder that she uses on her skin more noticable as a scent, while the Chanel normally lingers on her suit. The jacket off was a near literal version of Pepper dropping her own defenses. Almost no one ever saw this.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony was laughing at first, when Pepper was playing too. When she switched into third person to follow him on his game. And then entirely called him out on his bullshit. He doesn't mind, he never does mind: he laughs even still, rolling turning towards her a little bit. She KNOWS him, and it doesn't exactly surprise him. Not anymore. She's always had a thing where she anticipates what he wants before he wants it, so seeing it here? It's not a surprise. That's not the word. It's a comfortable, natural thing, that her ease with him cross over from assistant towards where they are. To see exactly what he was doing better than he himself saw it.

And the reward is real, because he persues her as she pulls away, both hands coming to her waist at the sides, and goes for a direct kiss on the mouth. It isn't as romantic as it could have been, because just under magazine Tony is the one that was suffering alone in the penthouse for hours. There's that raw person right under that surface.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Truthful. Stumbling, honest, direct and truthful was so much better than romantic or suave anyway. Pepper would trade a thousand of his casanova kisses for one of these, awkward and earnest. She sinks into him again, letting the hard kiss deepen a little more as her bare arms come up to wrap around the back of his shoulders entirely. The kiss lingers longer than probably either of them had planned. Pepper really wante to give him a space to talk it through but, possibly, this was enough. Just proof that he wasn't alone, but that he also was accepting her here. Not with teasing flirtatious, but really accepting what her being at his side meant. The pad of her thumb brushes up and down the side of his neck, more tender than seductive.

"...Thank you." Pepper whispers, as they finally break that kiss. She doesn't really pull away, but lips part enough she can at least speak. "For... being honest. For giving me a chance. I know it's easier to just smile for the cameras but...I'm not a camera, Tony. You don't have to smile. You just have to be... You."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony has the full ability to answer her in a snarky or bullshitting way, or even just a flippant and playful one. He is a master of clever dodging, in a way that people just accept, due to his level of pleasant charisma. He doesn't get trapped verbally, and he doesn't let anyone actually find a spot in his armor to pin him down on.

Yet the weight of the evening, the slow drown in the echoes of the sad past has affected his mood. He COULD dodge, it's fully in his wheelhouse to spit out a flirtation and turn the situation into one that he controls.

He doesn't do those things. He drops his forehead some and accepts her there, eyes closed. Dark masculine lashes are free of moisture, but brows are down and pinched together. He leans on her for now, weathering it instead of dodging it.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Her shoulders slightly release, having been instinctively bracing for him trying to dodge once more. Most of Pepper didn't expect him to give in, no matter how much she said it was alright and how deeply she trusted him. Her arms tighten around his back and she turns her head just enough to press a soft kiss against the side of his temple. "I wish I could have properly gotten to know him. But some day... I'd love you to tell me more about Edwin Jarvis. Someday when it's not quite so late... " And Tony isn't quite so drowning in emotions about it.

For tonight, however, she slowly tugs him back down towards the bed, bare arms not letting go one inch. Maybe she'll change out of her slacks and silk undershirt later, but for now she's comfortable enough there, stretching out stockinged feet on his bed. She tugs him into her chest, letting him use her as a pillow instead of the bed he's been on half the day. "Just... try to get some rest. I'm not going anywhere." She murmurs gently. She wishes she had something better to say to fix it, but she wasn't letting him bear it alone any longer.

Iron Man has posed:
It doesn't last. Tony clears his throat and the dark place is pushed down. He doesn't want to linger in that place. He trusts her, but there's a pain there that is hard to stay in. "I'm all right, I can talk about him," Tony says, when she attempts to advise him. He sits up a little more, taking some control back, lifting some of the weight with just his willpower.

Except that he also reaches across her, towards the side table. Because his drink is there. Willpower, plus that. Yet she's not excluded from it, he's stayed with her, and the distance hasn't increased between them.

Tony's just got his ways of dealing with things (or not).

Pepper Potts has posed:
Well, it was a start. Pepper frowns a bit as he pulls away, just as she was going to get comfortable. The frown only deepens as she sees him reach for the drink, but she doesn't scold this time. She knows it's been a long night. She lets one of her hands drop, instead, and reaches to give his knee a bit of a squeeze. "Well...I'd love to hear about him. Anyone who could keep someone like you even slightly in line must have been a miracle worker." She cracks the smallest of smiles to him when she says that, considering she herself is probably in that category.

Then then pulls away to stand up. If they weren't sleeping immediately, she might as well get properly comfortable instead of wrinking her suit slacks further. She steps over to a set of drawers, searching quickly for a t-shirt to steal. "I'm borrowing a t-shirt. I don't exactly have sleepwear in the office." Just extra suits to change into for those nights that she does fall asleep on her couch. But something comfortable for laying in his bed? It's time to steal a shirt. Girlfriend's privilege, even early in a relationship.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yeah, help yourself," Tony answers, polishing off all of the drink and putting it back down with a heavy glass sound on the table. He rolls to his back, replacing his hand against his eyes and forehead, much as she'd found him when she came in.

"He was our butler since I can remember," Tony describes, his voice even, except for the slight burn in it from the alcohol. He doesn't cough, though. The burn is welcome. "If he were still here, you'd have a very different job description, I think," he teases her. A bit of magazine Tony came in, but a glance at him will show a little smile: he did it deliberately to poke her.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"If he was still here, I'd be so competent at my job, and JUST doing my job, you'd have promoted me by now." Pepper teases back in turn, the implication being that he gives her a lot of tasks which aren't near that of her job description, but she's never complained. Not loudly, at least. Finally happening on one of those t-shirts, an old, soft ACDC black one, she pulls it out and pads back over toward his side.

A quick slip of a button and her slacks slip down stockinged legs beneath. Stockings come off a second later, then shirt and bra so she can pull comfortably into the soft t-shirt. Some nights it might be more of a tempting strip tease but, for tonight, it's just a change of practicality into something that slightly smells like him and is easy to sleep in.

Iron Man has posed:
"I like that one," Tony observes of the shirt, while remaining where he is, though he draws one arm upwards to support behind his head, to see her better. She's certainly pulled all of his attention. Well, most of it. He's too much of a multitasker: even when he'd like to focus on one thing, other thoughts just stay milling around in the back of his head, bouncing against his troubleshooting mind. Unfortunately, things like the loss of a beloved friend can't be solved in the way he tries to solve other problems. And they just bounce, like sharp daggers.

He extends a hand towards her. "Well, I've got a great position for you right now," Tony offers. It's playful, but the full flirt wattage is just going through the motion. He's drunk and emotionally wiped out. He sounds tired, drained. "More of a side-grade than a promotion."

Pepper Potts has posed:
The hand is accepted and she allows herself to be drawn into the bed. There's little seductive about her motions, just the sitting of someone comforting, and comfortable. She settles in next to him and smiles, "Mm. I know. I remember you wearing it. It still *smells* a bit like you..." And she's smiling as she says that. She didn't really need the comfort, but being wrapped up in one of his favorite shirts was a good feeling unlikely many she's had in a long while. There was a safety here, in old, worn out and stretched cotton. It felt safer than even his suits, for Pepper Potts, at least.

"I... think I could take a horizontal move. Perhaps even to laying down. And the benefits package of sleep simply is the best in the market. Especially with good company." Now, it's her turn to tug him down towards the bed again. Her own eyes were exhausted, but Pepper lived in such a state more often than not.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yes, all of my content tonight clearly will continue to be absolutely riveting," Tony says, with a sly amusement. It isn't true self-deprecation: Tony's not really in the mood for it. He's too down for self-deprecation to strike him a funny. He accepts the flop, but pulls an arm under her, to draw her naturally towards his side, and then settles, eyes open, but tired.

And still on the same topic. Tony wasn't really diverted from the subject that has eaten his evening. "He would've loved you," Tony says, before his head turns a little, and he starts to, rather clearly, begin to pass out.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"...I would have loved him too." Pepper whispers softly, not loud enough to really jerk or pull him back awake, but almost as a soft goodnight and a reassuring wrap to the conversation. She then leans up to ever so gently kiss the side of his head before stretching one hand down to tug a single blanket across them. Each action she takes is ever so careful, not daring to risk waking him back up now that he's dared let himself drop off to rest.

Once she has them both covered, she settled in a bit deeper against his side. Her arm drapes gently across his stomach, fingertips tucking around the opposite side of his waist. Her head tucks down onto the pillow next to him, nose and breath gently brushing against his shoulder as she settles in for the night. It will take her far longer to get to sleep but it's worth it, to listen to him breathe and know, for a little bit at least, he's getting some actual rest.

Iron Man has posed:
"Stuck with just me, instead," Tony laughs, breaking the illusion of the actual rest. He struggles to start to wake up again, drawing a hand up against his jawline, scratching his goatee and then under his chin along his throat. It's late, so it's a little stubbly there. Tony and his crusades: in this case, staying awake for no reason other than, perhaps, to add more drinking, or to talk, or to continue to turn around whatever current problem is in his powerful mind.

"All night," he mumbles, and then is truly gone this time, his hand drops, and his breathing evens out.