"Actually the crazy can focus and make you even better," Tony smirked. He thought about that. The death and near death, and the differences between. He had ample experience in the second category, though he wasn't clear on whether or not he had been dead when the terrorists had brought him to the surgeons' table. He'd never know, he was sure.
"Sometimes it helps to look at it from your enemy's point of view," he shrugged. "How stupid of you was it, letting yourself be impaled? Like a fish on a bad 80's show about surviving in the wild, or something."
He shrugged. "We all go through it. Impaling. Shrapnel. Slow poisinging of one's own electric life support systems from the technology that keeps your heart beating. The's the way of the world, my friend. And all that really matters in the endzone is how much fun you had getting there. So, cheers," he refilled their glasses regardless of need and then lifted his own in a toast to himself, the other in the room, or both. It was never too clear with Tony.