InsaneJournal

Who: Howard and Tony Stark
What: drinks, anxiety attacks, and tech talk. Set after Howard's post.
When: backdated to Sunday night.
Rating/Warning: Greenish.

Never in his life did Tony expect that his father would be one of the returnees. He wasn't even sure how to process it, or how he felt about that, because he didn't know much about his dad when Howard was younger. Everything was word of mouth, from outdated sources. He knew Howard Stark, businessman. Cold, cynical, sarcastic. Drank a lot. But he knew his mom loved his dad more than anything, and she always tried to bridge the gap between Howard and himself. Or tried to. It only got worse as he got older. Tony never knew why, but he certainly hadn't helped matters by having the world's shittiest attitude in response.

Then they were gone, and it felt like a rug had been ripped out from under him. And then Afghanistan and Stane and Venko and the Chitauri and, and, and....

Tony found himself staring with what seemed terribly close to a thousand yard stare at the doorway, impatiently waiting for his dad to walk in.

Howard had no idea what to expect. He’d only barely figured out the computer enough to post on the network. He wanted to see what kind of information he could find on his kid, but then plans were made and there was only so much he could be expected to figure out on his own in half an hour.

The car was a classy touch. It wasn’t as pretty as cars he was used to, but the interior was extremely comfortable. He climbed out at the first and only stop, finding himself at the bar Tony had mentioned. He stared at the door for a long moment, feeling vaguely ill. His son was in there. His adult son. But it only took himself a moment to pull himself together and push his way in.

There was no mistaking him. Howard walked right towards the man that could only be Tony Stark, sitting at a table facing the door. Howard walked right over and pulled out the chair opposite, taking a seat. “Tony Stark, I presume?”

It seemed odd to stand up and shake his own dad's hand like it was a business meeting. And Tony was too busy being shocked that there was more of a resemblance to his dad when they were younger than when older, something he always wondered about when he looked at old photos.

"Guilty," Tony said, sitting up a little straighter and waving a hand up to get the server's attention. "Guilty on so many counts. How weird is this going to get? Do I call you dad or Howard?"

“Jesus. Howard, please. You’re 15 years older than me. Just… at least when there are other people around.” He really didn’t want to be called ‘dad’ ever. He’d never wanted kids. He didn’t like kids. But this wasn’t a kid. This was a grown man.

He waited for the server to come over, and ordered a martini. He thought about ordering just the gin, but there was always the next one. “Okay, so… that Strange guy said you were a superhero.” He needed an explanation about a lot of things, but he had to start somewhere.

"Weird." That covered it. He ordered a martini too, and they better keep them coming. His dad was fifteen years younger than him. Fifteen. That fact sat in and Tony looked around for a moment before trying to even process what he should say first and how to say it.

"Well, ok, you see, there was...uhh, no, okay....this is the thing." He patted his hands on the table like he was playing the bongo drums. "I kind privatized world peace for a little while and maybe called some senators a bunch of ass clowns, but...things went in all these different directions and...no. Wrong? Let me start over."

The drinks were sat down and Tony had never been so grateful for alcohol in his entire life. He grabbed his glass and downed it like it was water. Before the waitress even got a chance to walk away.

"That was tasty. I'm gonna need another of these," Tony said, while handing her the glass. He looked back at Howard, deliberated, and said, "Yep. Superhero. In a flying metal suit. Blowing up baddies wherever I go. Next question?"

Howard paused mid-sip to watch Tony babble, twitch, drink and then ask for more. It was exhausting, and he’d just gotten there. He took a civilized sip of his martini. “Do they do pitchers of martinis? Maybe just have them make up a pitcher. Thanks, doll,” he said to the waitress before she left their table.

“So you have a metal suit that flies. That… I’m assuming you invented that? How is it powered?” he asked.

Tony nodded at the waitress like a pitcher was a good idea. And if anyone ever pointed out that just watching him was tiring to look at, he would have answered with 'Imagine having to live with it.' The only way he could describe it was like an ongoing anxiety attack at mach five while trying to navigate through an sea of trees strapped with fusion bombs, and trying not to hit any of them because a boy scout jamboree was camping below.

"Yep, sure did. Gold-titanium alloy, powered by a miniature arc reactor," was Tony's lightning quick answer, and he wasn't sure how to even approach the reactor being stuck in his chest for a few years. "Propulsion for flight and some of the weaponry is from repulsor tech. I loaded an artificial intelligence program I wrote into it, for the operating system."

That pitcher of martinis could not get there fast enough. Tony's eyes glanced off to one side, before he was staring at his dad's...nope, at Howard's...face.

Howard had no idea what to make of his kid right up until the words ‘miniature arc reactor’ tumbled out of his mouth. From that point on, he had a look on his face like someone had just told a 12 year old that no, Santa Claus really was real, and he really was getting a pony for Christmas.

He sat up closer, leaning part-way across the table. “You got it to work?” he said, smiling. “And it powers a weaponized, flying suit of armor? No wonder that guy said you were a superhero.” He sat back again, looking spectacularly pleased with himself. “I got a lot of catching up to do. Any chance you’re gonna invite me to your lab?” he asked. Temporarily, he was putting aside the whole awkward child rearing stories, in favor of the much more interesting fact that his kid apparently got all the good things about him, too.

When Howard leaned in, Tony leaned back in his chair, blinking rapidly. It was a lot to process and his mind really was at mach five. Because Tony always felt like he was more of a thing to his dad, something that was expected to excel and existed in order to please dear ol' pop. So when Howard looked pleased with himself, that was a strangely familiar thing. It was smug satisfaction. Tony hoped it was without the inevitable frostbite that came seconds after his younger self inevitably retaliated, napalming everything by opening his mouth. Maybe that all came later on, when Howard was older and the world had taken larger bites out of him, after he rubbed too many elbows with the D.C. war machine.

"Lab invite? Suuuure. The main lab's upstate, if you want to check it out. I've gotta give you a list of the holdings, and there's probably a shit ton of business stuff to figure out now...my girlfriend's the CEO, so you know, we'll talk to her about what to do next...."

Tony was about to fold his arms over himself when a pitcher of martini arrived and the server filled his glass before leaving it on the table. Tony looked up at them like they descended from the heaven he didn't even believe existed. He muttered a low "thank freakin' god" about two seconds before the rim of the glass touched his lips.

Howard took another sip of his martini, frowning a little. “Holdings,” he said flatly. “You sound like someone who doesn’t expect any of us to ever go back to where we came from,” he said, cocking a brow. Howard knew that he’d barely scratched the surface of what all this meant. He’d been distracted by the fact his adult son was there, and all the new technology he was suddenly steeped in on all sides. Now he had a moment to think about what it all meant and he might not ever be going back. Is that really what it all meant?

"Oh yeah, you can kiss that goodbye. Far as I know? There's no going back. You're in the broken distorted timeline. Welcome to hell!" Tony tried to sound cheerful, but it came out more like chirpy sarcasm. He promptly sucked down half of what was in his martini glass and put it down, so he could try to pace himself. Good luck. His usual pace would be running a marathon while lit on fire. Which was pretty damn close to what this situation felt like.

“And I’m assuming I’m not gonna run into some old guy who says he’s me. That bastard would be a hundred by now, anyway,” Howard said quietly. So this was it. The entire life that had been ahead of him was gone. Already lived through it, and it was over. “So… seems like all the business stuff is really… yours, not mine.”

Tony sat back so abruptly, it almost seemed as though an unseen fist had taken a swing toward his face and he was trying to dodge it.

"Okay nope, zero danger of running into yourself," was Tony's hastily spoken reply. For nearly a minute after, he didn't seem like he wanted, or needed, to say more than that. This was a bad time for a full blown anxiety attack, not in front of the guy who was supposed to grow up to be the sort of dude that was not going to put up with anxiety attacks in public, and then was going to get in a car with mom and go die thanks to a brainwashed super soldier. And that line of thinking was doing nothing to help. He eyed the exits, then Howard's face, and then looked for the men's room. Once spotted, he pointed over at it. Eureka! Something precious has been found.

"Oh, there. Yeah. I've gotta do a thing. It's that thing people do...in restrooms." Tony said, pointing over at it while trying to stand up. "It's fine. All good. You stay put and I'll be back in like...what, ten seconds? Ten seconds good? Count slow. Spell Mississippi between each number."

Howard had no idea what was wrong with him. “You all right?” he asked. He put his glass down and looked worriedly at the other man. “You look kinda pale. I mean… it didn’t really seem like you were gonna be that broken up about it.” He’d always thought he’d make a shitty father, and nothing since he’d met Tony had changed his mind about that. That was why his reaction was so surprising.

A very clammy and pale faced Tony downed the rest of his martini while holding his other hand up, index finger pointed to the ceiling, in the classic 'just one minute' gesture. He knew that this wasn't anything this Howard had done, and in fact, the guy seemed surprisingly ok by Tony's standards. They even looked alike. Except now his dad looked like his younger brother.

"S'all good. I'm ok. I'll be ok. Just...you know...?" It was a breathing thing and his tie - which was already loose - was starting to feel like a very claustrophobic noose around his neck. He finally stood up while hooking a finger into it and dragging it down more. "I'm gonna go...do some yoga."

And then Tony went walking at what he would call 'a brisk pace' to the restroom. Once inside the door, he went to the nearest sink and leaned against it, trying to slow his breathing and failing spectacularly.

Great. Dad comes back, doesn't know him, and now he gets to pass out in a bathroom. Maybe sitting down was a better idea, considering the last thing he wanted was to hit his head and end up needing stitches.

"God, how embarrassing," he panted out, while flipping on the cold water. After a few splashes on his face and trying to get his bearings again, he looked up to his own reflection. The person he saw there didn't look happy, or collected, or anything that Tony would consider normal and functioning. A fact which pissed him off enough that he felt the need to address it. "First time ever you sit down for drinks with dad, and you fucking fail bomb it. Seriously. Get your shit together."

He didn't even reach over for a towel, just swiped the sleeve of his blazer down his face a couple of times, and bounced on his heels a few times. All good. Back out into the fray.

"I'm good. I got this. I'm ok." He went to open the door and almost hit himself with it. "I can do doors. We're all good. It's fine."

That was debatable.

Howard had finished his first martini and poured himself a second. Clearly his son was in the midst of some kind of breakdown. When he got back to the table he didn’t look much better. “Maybe we should steer clear of such weighty subjects for the time being?” he suggested. He really didn’t look that hot.

“So tell me about your girlfriend,” he suggested. It seemed like whoever this woman was, she had to have the patience of a saint. Of course, he was going to assume that Tony’s mother probably did, too, but asking about her, whoever she might be, was probably not a great idea at the moment.

"Yeah, good idea." Tony poured himself another drink and settled back in his seat a bit more, trying to appear relaxed. He was also grateful that Howard noticed without making him feel like a total tool at the same time. Sidestepping parental death? It was a good thing. Talk about good things. Pepper was a good thing. It was easy to talk about Pepper.

"Pepper's the smartest woman I know," Tony said, much more slowly and clearly now that it was post-attack and that was oh so draining. "She was my personal assistant for, like, years and years. I was in love with her since day one but we never did anything about it. She wore these heels that were so workplace inappropriate, but I was so ok with. Anyway, she was pretty much running the company while keeping tabs on me. And now she officially runs the whole global thing, and she's really good at it. You'll be pretty happy with everything she's done. Bonus points? It means more time to play in research and development department. And I'm not causing the stocks to fall every time I...."

Got shrapnelled in a firefight. Was held hostage by terrorists. Got backstabbed big time by your business partner. Had your old arc reactor buddy's son try to kill me on a race track. Fought aliens. Got thrown out window by a demigod. Shoved a nuke into a space sphincter. That list was loooooooong and it wasn't even half of it.

"....sneezed the wrong way."

There. That sure covered all the bases.

Howard could tell that Tony was leaving a lot out, but he didn’t push. Strange had told him that he’d saved New York and the world more than once. That was probably pretty traumatic. “She sounds like a peach. Do I get to meet her?” If she was reigning Tony in, she was probably a damn sight more stable, and probably a better source of credible information.

“So why aren’t you married yet? You’re no spring chicken, pal.” Howard realized they he’d apparently waited a long damn time, too, but again, he was steering clear of that topic. He sipped his martini, watching the other man. He might be older, but there was nothing particularly mature about him.

Tony's information was credible, but heavily laden with sarcasm and was probably like receiving several jackhammer punches in the face, without pause. His usual plan of attack in the past was literally attack and if he had one speed it was go. So no, he still wasn't the most mature person ever. But he was trying. And he legitimately worried about kids like Peter Parker, enough to build in a nanny cam function.

"Uhhh? Wow." Tony rubbed one hand against the side of his neck and laughed a little bit. "We....uhh? Well, there was a couple of break ups. We didn't really get engaged until a year ago. We're both busy and don't really want kids...so...?"

He couldn't imagine himself with a kid. He was already paranoid about what would happen with Parker sometimes, so that would be amplified. Tony pulled a face that was a comical wince. The Stark family line wasn't getting any more chips off that block, by the looks of it.

Howard was not used to being so instantly and decidedly disliked, and he was still grappling how to have a conversation with his son without it becoming a fight. “It’s not my place to give advice. What the hell do I know about relationships?” he admitted with a shrug. Maybe he got better at it eventually. He hoped so. He didn’t treat anyone badly or make promises he didn’t intend to keep, but he’d never really dated anyone for longer than a month, and not for a long time.

The problem wasn't that Tony didn't like Howard. The problem was that he did, and that he wished he could have had this Howard Stark instead of the Howard he grew up with, and never got a chance to reconcile with, either.

Tony's mouth opened and closed a few times, as he was trying to avoid thinking about his little memory therapy experiment of his last moments with his parents, and then seeing that video in Siberia of them being killed. He wanted to tell Howard that he wasn't really bad at it, because he and his mom loved each other like crazy. Sure, his mom mentioned one time that they had trouble having kids and that's why he came along later. But they also seemed happy together. He wanted to say a lot of things. That he was good at being married, but his kid became the major disappointment. He couldn't find the words to say any of it though, and there was a very long moment of uncomfortable silence, that Tony didn't like at all.

"I dunno about relationships much, either," Tony said with a shrug that he hoped looked casual. He did make sure to add, "I think you did ok."

Howard wasn’t trying to bring it up. He really wasn’t. But he was curious as hell. Did he do okay? Was he an okay husband? Cause this wasn’t saying very much for his parenting skills. “Yeah? Thanks,” he said cautiously. He felt like any amount of clarification might make the other man snap completely.

“Sounds like you’re doing okay, too, if you broke up with this Pepper and still got her to agree to marry you anyway.” There was so much he wanted to know. Who was Tony’s mother. Did Peggy approve. Did Jarvis babysit for him, or had he moved on with his life by then? How had he failed his kid so spectacularly?

“So what made you decide to make a flying suit of armor, anyway?” he asked instead.

Tony wrinkled his nose up while smiling a little bit, not really sure how he hadn't scared off Pepper once and for all. By all rights, she should have run for the hills. It really seemed like she was doing that, more than once. And now his dad was here, and wow, that was a universal bitchslap if ever there was one. He wanted to talk to him too, but this wasn't his dad. Not yet it wasn't. It was like day before the night fell, that was how vast a difference there was, between this guy and the man he knew as his father.

"Uhh," Tony said, trying to process how to tell him about the shrapnel and the hostage situation. "Oh, I just kinda fell into it. On accident."

Like getting his face stuck in some water until he agreed to make some missiles, with his chest hooked up to a car battery. That kind of accident? Yeah.

"I came home after that, and needed a hobby, so...I built it. To help out. And so no one had any more accidents like I did. Yep."

Tony nodded like he was pleased with himself for circumnavigating that conversational trap. And still managing to tell Howard about it at the same time. Kind of. Maybe he should start asking questions too.

"Oh, hey. You knew Cap before this world turned him into a poor lil cinnamon bun, too long in it." Tony sat up a little straighter while topping off their drinks. "What was he like?"

Howard wasn’t sure what the cinnamon bun comment really meant. “You mean before the serum? I didn’t really know him then. I mean I just met him that day. But once he really got involved? There was no one better. As far as fighting and trying to stop the Nazis and stop HYDRA, he would do anything. As far as his personal life was concerned, he was like a big dumb kid who’d never even kissed a girl.” Howard smiled at the memory and took a deeper swig of his martini.

“I can’t believe he survived crashing into the ice for that long. Poor Peg,” he added, frowning a little. He had no idea what details of the past were going to potentially trigger Tony again, if any, but he’d asked. Howard didn’t have anything to hide. He was damn proud of his contribution to making Steve Rogers into the man he’d become.

"I'm all for punching Nazis. The more they get punched, the better I feel. So thanks for doing your part." Tony was thinking about all the things that Steve had gone through, and how he hoped that they were friends again. Even though Steve spent more time looking at Tony like he was something to put up with, rather than a friend. That was pretty typical though. And it was easier than talking about his own problems. "Poor him, too. By the time he saw her again, she didn't have long after that. Probably made her happy to see him though, so...it's not all bad, right?"

It was just becoming apparent to Howard that every single person he cared about in the entire world was dead. Recently dead, long dead. The only exception, apparently, was Steve Rogers. He tossed back the rest of his drink, trying not to think about Peggy. “It’s good that she saw him again, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat.

He poured himself a third martini, because Howard Stark was excellent at holding his liquor. For a long moment he was at a loss as to what topic might be safe. “So if you were to summarize the five most important things that happened in the last half century, what would they be? Asking for a friend,” he said with a humorless smirk.

That had to be a shitty feeling. Tony wondered about that whenever he was around Steve and Bucky, and now with his dad there, he almost felt compelled to crack bad jokes, just to keep their minds in the here and now, and not on the back then. It was almost a compulsion for him to do stuff like that. And considering he had a lot of obsessive tendencies, Tony didn't tend to apply the brakes whenever a whim struck.

"I think we have a mutual acquaintance." Tony smirked and thought for a moment. He wanted to call himself stupidly optimistic, but he wanted to say something positive because there were good things. "All right, but no bad stuff. Our phones are amazing. The internet. Space exploration. Technological advancements. And? I've got a plane that can fly us so high that you're weightless for a few. If you want to ride on it."

Howard was trying to swim his way back up from maudlin. “What exactly is this internet thing? I mean I get the network you set up. I get that. Communicating with people like… like a party line only in writing.” It felt like he was teetering on the brink of figuring it all out. Oh, he knew he had years worth of information to catch up on, but some inherent element that separated the 20th century and the 21st century, a key to understanding where it all came from and how to find out more.

"You're gonna love it. The internet is massive," Tony explained, and now he felt like he was more in his element, enough that he was the one leaning forward. "There's all sorts of stuff you can learn on there, or watch, or buy. You can access it on your phone, wherever you go. Television, movies, news, photos, information, finances, social media, dating. You can probably catch up on a lot of general history stuff, just with YouTube videos."

Howard pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket and turned it on. “You can see all of that on this little thing?” he asked, looking dubious. He could have wished the screen was a little larger, but it was convenient to be able to carry it around in his pocket. When the home screen came up, he held it out to Tony. “All right. Where do you go to find all of this stuff?” he asked, still skeptical.

"Sure can." Tony turned in his chair enough that he could take the phone, and show Howard what he was doing. His fingers moved quickly but it was enough to show him how to search for things. "There's tabs. Up here. So you can have as many as you want, and toggle back and forth. I'll get some set up. First, Google and YouTube. You're gonna need Wikipedia. There. If you don't close the tab, they'll stay right there all the time. Like file folders."

Howard watched Tony poke his finger at the tiny screen. He was surprised, though, that it wasn’t really that difficult to read. It made a certain amount of sense once you got the basics down. “Okay okay. I think I got it,” he said, taking the phone back. “And this is just a smaller version of the same stuff you can get on the portable computer, huh?” he asked. Howard’s mind was spinning, taking in every detail anyone mentioned, every chance observance. He could see people all around them checking their phones all the time, and now he was starting to understand why.

"Yep. Same stuff. Pretty sure you're going to figure this out in no time flat, and then you'll be ready for the holo-displays."

Tony was more in his element explaining this than he realized. It also helped that it got his focus more on something else that made sense rather than on everything else that didn't. It was the reason he liked science expos and talking to students. Once things went back to his personal life or his past? That was just a bad place that he should never stay in for very long.

"Here. Lemme show you, on a small scale." He took out his own phone to show Howard, typing on it and then moving his fingers so a display screen popped up over the top of the phone, in mid-air. It wasn't so huge that it lit up the room or anything. He zoomed in and out until it showed some blinking red dots on the map. "This is what Stark Industries owns in this state. It's pretty sweet for doing three-dee blueprints."

Howard’s eyes went wide. The projected display momentarily threw him. “That… is incredible.” He leaned in to examine the actual map. “That’s quite a few facilities,” he added, sitting back again. “Looks like you did all right for yourself.” He took another sip of his martini. He was torn between wanting to know more about the man he was with, and wanting to run back to his room and stay up all night reading about the last half century. He wanted to see the suit. He wanted to see the lab. He wanted to see it all. There was a lot to do. Then again, he had all the time in the world to do it now. His calendar was just permanently cleared.

"You left a lot for us to work with, and Pep's made some really good deals and contacts," Tony said, moving his fingers over the screen, so Howard could get a better idea of what that looked like on a global scale. There were quite a few businesses they had contracts with for parts or materials, and even if he was out of the weapons business, they still had a joint office in D.C. for things like Damage Control. "We've still got the facility out in California. Just...uhh....well, here's the thing? We're not making weapons for the military anymore."

Without looking at Howard, Tony slipped his finger across the screen in a swiping motion, so the holograph of the world spun around just like the earth would.

Howard had always thought that being in the weapons business was not for the faint of heart. It was morally compromised from the start, even if it was clear that the Nazis had to be stopped. Getting out, though… wasn’t easy. Not to mention a lot of Howard’s most brilliant ideas seemed to be really, really dangerous things.

“Strange mentioned something about it,” he said. “Did you get a lot of resistance?” he asked. Until he knew what was going on in the world and in Tony’s life, he wasn’t going to judge. He still obviously had a lot of money, a fiancé, a life. The guy had problems, too, but who didn’t?

Great, that Strange guy. Hell only knew how much was said, behind his back. Probably the same amount other people said about him. Oh well. As for the weapons biz, Tony knew all about having a faint heart, after seeing first hand what happened when those weapons fell into the wrong hands or learning about shady backdoor deals. He was the living dead for a while with shrapnel from a Stark bomb lodged in his chest. And then he had the only thing keeping that shrapnel from creeping into his heart, pulled out by his so-called business partner. Tony could remember that moment, like it happened yesterday. That smug look on Stane's face was branded into his memory.

"You could say there was resistance," he replied, watching as the world slowed its spin and came to a stop. He tapped a finger on the screen and it all disappeared, so he could go back to drinking with gusto. "Attempted hostile takeover, including murder attempts. That was fun? Obviously still here. So that didn't work."

A sarcastically smirking Tony made a little toasting motion with his glass.

“Yeah. When you do something that makes someone else rich, they’re not usually too keen on letting you stop,” Howard said. He’d run into the occasional spot of trouble himself, which was why he did his best not to work with anyone else if he could help it. But sometimes the potential of a collaboration was too enticing.

“Strange seems like he’s withholding information, and then he’ll suddenly spit out a bucket full all at once. He summed you up in three sentences. Billionaire, got out of weapons and into clean energy and technology, and a superhero who goes around saving the planet. That’s a pretty impressive resume.” As much as he felt the arc reactor was his legacy, he wasn’t really taking credit for anything else about Tony Stark. Taking credit would also mean taking responsibility.

“When do I get to see the suit?” he asked. Conversation was a minefield. He was hoping that finagling himself into a situation where he could be working with Tony would finally get them speaking the same language. Whether or not he felt like the other man was a stranger, there was no way he could deny that they obviously had a lot in common.

Tony nodded like he knew all that too well. He loved collaborating. He couldn't get enough of bouncing ideas around, even if some of them never came to be. It was what he liked doing with Bruce, and he wondered what Howard would think of Bruce. That might be interesting too.

"Wow, he had something nice to say. That's a rarity," Tony said with a clipped laugh and an eyeroll. He wasn't looking forward to his dad finding out what sort of things his resume was padded with. But he wasn't sure how to navigate that minefield either, and it could wait. He was trying to get a sense of what Howard was like, before the world got through chewing him up and spitting him out, and then started in on his son. "Anyway, yep! You hit it on the nose. He's withholding a shit ton of information. That guy knows more than anyone else, but he's not sharing with the rest of the class."

Feeling more comfortable talking shop helped a lot, and Tony looked at Howard thoughtfully, before answering.

"Soon as possible. Wanna do a meeting tomorrow with Pepper? Then I can show off one of the suits. I had one running through pre-fab this morning."

“You’re in luck. I’ve got free time tomorrow,” he quipped. Waiting around for other people’s help was not something Howard was accustomed to, and he was anxious to get up to speed so he could again be in charge of his own life. “How many of them do you have?” He couldn’t blame him for making back-ups. It was a sound plan. Something he would have done, too.

"Sounds good to me," Tony said, thinking that it was better to jump into things with both feet, as soon as possible. This might possibly be a trait that he picked up from Howard. "We'll set up a meeting and send a car for you. "

And Tony didn't even have to think when it came to his suits. He didn't have kids. He had armored suits to devote his attention to.

"I'm working a whole new angle with the mach forty-nine. Still using the forty-eight version, even if it got really messed up. There's some variations? A few operating systems I've been working on. And a whole lot of spare parts. You should see the fabrication area..."

And Tony proceeded to talk armor shop for at least an hour.