"You need to rest."
"I'm fine. I'm just a little tired."
Having calmed down, Tony refused to admit that something was wrong with his mental health. He did his utmost to reassure the children he had frightened.
"Well, considering I've drunk my way through half your wine cellar, leave this to me." Venti winked, then had Tony take off his armor and lie down on the bed.
"How long has it been since you last slept?"
"It... hasn't been that long."
Tony pursed his lips guiltily. Every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep, he was plunged into terrifying nightmares. Before Dvalin had caught him, he had seen the Chitauri army's enormous warships and spacecraft amid a vast galaxy-technology far beyond humanity's reach.
Perhaps that was when the immense gulf between humans and aliens had become a set of shackles he forged for himself in his own mind.
The steadily mounting anxiety and panic only left him when he was building one suit of Mark Armor after another.
So he threw himself into his work day and night without stopping. He had made plenty of suits, and he thought he was better.
Unfortunately, all of that was an illusion born of self-deception.
"Hmm... it's nothing too serious. From now on, I'll play for you every day and tell you some st... talk to you. When Barbara comes back, we can have her perform a few cheerful, energetic dance songs for you."
Venti said casually, "There was someone whose condition was much worse than yours back in the day. He'd completely lost his mind, and I was the one who cured him in the end. Still, I'll have to go pick out a flute tomorrow. Compared with playing the lyre, flute music is actually better at overcoming psychological barriers."
Tony