With a little luck, I'm gonna be sober enough to remember this, [Tony remarks. He's definitely sober enough to remember this, though more by virtue of having an incredible intellect than because he was, you know, pacing himself with regard to his liquor ingestion or the like. fuck pacing himself. stargates and their thirty-eight-minute rule is exactly the kind of shit you want to be drinking for.]

Setting aside-- this 'Stargate' phenomenon. You're a technopath. That's I believe the appropriate lexicon for what you're describing. Having finished his drink, [he tosses it at the nearest trash can. It falls rather short, toppling gracelessly onto the grass. He and Fridayd both stare at it for a brief moment, blankly, before the android daemon steps forward, moving stiffly to pick it up and put it away. it's probably no less than pepper used to help him with, back in the day.] I think you should come check out my jet some time.

See what you think of it. You ever flown before? It'll be fine. It's easy. It'll be fun. [If it sounds kind of like he's asking if she's ever piloted before, that's

accurate. It's how rich white guys talk about stuff like planes, okay.]