A small breath left the billionaire’s faintly chapped lips as he made his way to his bedroom, a half-empty (or, well, half-full, or half-filled if you thought about it the other way) glass of bourbon in his right hand, slipping through the cold, ninety degree angles of ice-cubes, the glass around it becoming faintly opaque. Stark licked his lips as he glanced down at the amber-hued liquor, moving the cup back to his lips after a moment to take another gulp of the warming liquid before stepping into his room, setting the said glass down on a coaster which was on the right nightstand on the said, right side of his bed. Tony sat down slowly on that said side, taking a moment to rub up his face and then focus on his temples in a circular motion before slumping onto his side, staring at the window before him.
