he just stares at the world.

Jan 12, 2010 15:52

They didn't exactly allow alcohol for clinic in-patients, and Tony hadn't been able to get out to sneak any in. He was sober. He had clairty of thought. He was undampened.

He wasn't fond of the state. Especially when all his remarkable mind was doing, right then, was running things over and over in his head.

I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them.

She hadn't been American. A soldier, though. That much was the same old story. He'd found that much out from Mars. No recourse to the Who on this one. Won't get fooled again? Hardly. Patently not.

He could have taken some comfort in the wholly unpredictable nature of the event, the fact that elements had conspired to give Hartford, or whoever he really was, the perfect window to do the most damage; that he'd had one chance to get the suit and he'd taken it, and taken his competition out of the game at the same time.

Tony refused. Instead he stared at the ceiling, curling the fingers of one hand one at a time into a fist, squeezed, released and then did it all over again.

brodie, clinic visits, karen, sarah, mj, pepper

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