There were people - like, say, either of the Bruce's - who'd turn it down flat, and Tony figured that he wouldn't even offer; he'd tell them he was doing it, because he was incapable of keeping his mouth shut about things, and he figured they should know in general what he was doing. But he wouldn't push for them to join him in getting injuries photographed and classified as modern art. It could be very dangerous for them, and he had enough blood on his hands.
"It's a damn good cause," he agreed as he worked his shoulders under the surface of the water to let the jets tend his tight muscles - and not to work his head just a little back against her hands, certainly not. That would be unprofessional and somehow wrong even if it it felt good. "No one else has done this cause before."
Towels were dumped over his shoulders, and he made a face behind her back - that he really hoped she didn't see since she turned back around to add another order. "What's the point of staying awake for it?" he asked as he - carefully - stood and got out of the tub to dry himself off. "I'm a lot stiller when I sleep. You should be pressing the sleep pills on me to make your job easier." The fact that he was perfectly fine to get out of the tub and walk the two steps to collapse on the bed he let go; of course he could take care of himself and didn't need her hovering over every step and his back wasn't broken or otherwise permanently harmed and he was just fine. Even if he could tell her that, it wouldn't stop her.