The tide of noise receded, leaving only a mess strewn across the floor.
The night had deepened, and dawn was almost beginning to brighten the sky.
Young Tony Stark had somehow found a knitted cap that should only have been worn at Christmas and crookedly pulled it onto his head.
Hugging a patterned pillow from the sofa, he stared blankly and numbly at the mansion staff as they cleaned the entire house, still not fully free from the effects of alcohol.
A large hand held a cup of hot drink before Tony's eyes. He finally came somewhat back to himself and gave Mr. Jarvis, the butler, a grateful look. Ignoring his father, who sat on the other side looking like a cock ready to fight, he took small sips of the steaming cocoa.
"Do you know how old you are, hmm? Seventeen! You're still four years away from the legal drinking age! And at seventeen, you've already learned to drink yourself stupid—"
"Yes! Graduated from MIT at seventeen with the highest grades. Thank you, thank you for Mr. Stark's congratulations. I'm so touched."
Howard choked on his son's retort. His graying mustache trembled as he said coldly, "You're very proud of yourself, aren't you? Think you're so impressive! Planning to smoke weed next year? Try morphine the year after? Do you know that Dr. Lawson proposed today that you go to Project Pegasus to study and work for a while? Even that gentleman... Hah."
He let out a long breath. Howard, already past sixty and considered an old man, had spent the entire night running around and working, only to come home and angrily lecture his son.
The back of his head throbbed and went numb in waves. Stark suppressed his emotions and forced out a low, muffled roar: "...That