No. Tony wasn't looking for placation, not really. He didn't need it. Or, well. Wouldn't take it, even if he did. He didn't think he deserved that, and no amount of someone telling him otherwise was going to change his mind. How could it?
But talking. Yeah, that might make him feel a little better. Get some of it off of his chest anyway. So he settled on the bed too -- although he didn't really stop with just sitting, he actively laid back, legs dangling off the side because you just didn't lay in the right direction on someone else's bed. That was weird.
"He kept it up," Tony said a little wistfully. "After Germany and all that. He took to the streets in Queens, just doing good, in general. Little stuff. I told him to work on little stuff because that was important too. And because I thought he was too young --too-- eager? And he just... listened to me. Like my opinion was the only one that mattered to him. God. He'd send Happy these voicemails and texts and they were all just so endearing. Stopped a lady from getting robbed and she bought him a churro." It'd been so cute. There was no other word for it, not really.