"It's not so luxurious, trust me. I don't even want to be running it in the first place...I never did." Tony said with a heavy sigh, letting his head fall back into his palm. It was true, when Tony's parents died that left him in charge of their company at age twenty-one. He didn't know what he wanted out of life by then, but he never got a chance to figure it out. It was all put in front of him. But tiredness or not, the last bit of blurbage was all he'd let slip through on that subject.
"I'll take enough time off to catch up on work and sleep, that alright Mom?" Steve would be correct in assuming the addictive personality. There wasn't much to explain or defend it, other than after his capture in Vietnam, Tony left a large part of him--the naive, selfish part, back in that cave. He'd built the Iron Man suit to utilize the arc reactor in his chest, and destroy the weapons he'd built, right wrongs. Now that that was done? He would continue to use it in a positive manner. Tony believed he was alive for a reason: to do good. He should have been dead, and he would not squander that gift.
Though it couldn't be officially stated he was an alcoholic, nor did he pay it much mind...Tony did drink a lot...
"People will always be afraid of what they don't understand. And men with power who only hunger for more will always fear any possible opposition to that power." With a few more gulps, Tony's coffee was long gone.