Stark

Stark was still in his room, much to the surprise of, well, nobody. He was also still pacing and still talking to himself. Not constantly, but on and off as he had been since Monday. Not even Stark mid-breakdown could keep that up for days on end. Sometimes he was huddled in a corner of his room, being very still. Verys till except for the humming. He hums when he's nervous, sometimes. Not that he was nervous, exactly, but it was close enough.

He'd even slept a bit, though not much and not well. Of course, sleeping meant waking up and waking up meant facing reality. And sometimes Stark hated reality. This was one of those times. Freaking out being easier than dealing with anything, Stark was just going to continue freaking out. He'd had practice with this, after all.

Were he thinking clearly, Stark might have wondered at how easily he'd fallen back into this broken persona. He’d thought, once, that being here and being safe for so long might have eliminated that possibility. Sometime later this would occur to him and the realization would not be a pleasant one.

Hopefully, the pacing and the babbling and the humming weren't loud enough to bother anyone.

[Still crazy, whee. Also open for another hour or so.]