It’s one of the only times that Tony glances away from Bruce, and it’s only to look at the spot his fingers had been. Tony really hasn’t had enough to drink for these feelings and so when Bruce half mentions the bottle, indirectly, he takes another swig.

“This isn’t a like father-like son gesture,” Tony says. “It dampens out the thoughts. My mind doesn’t shut up. Ever. Compartmentalizing is easier when there are a hundred thoughts instead of a thousand. Now I sound crazy.”

He’s not hallucinating. He’s not hearing voices.

He just has lots of ideas. Some are good. Some are ridiculous. Some could be important but they’re small fish and he can’t devote his time to every single mental tangent he finds himself on.