"You don't--" But she's already up, and he watches her go, feeling strangely melancholy about the entire situation. She was right, he needed the rest, and he hadn't slept so soundly in... ever really. Steeling himself, he gets up out of bed with only mild discomfort and gets right into the shower. It's instant relief, and he dawdles there a while though he'd only taken one the night before.

After his shower, he brushes his teeth and runs through all his normal morning routine, trying desperately to pretend Pepper Potts wasn't downstairs making him breakfast. It's all so surreal, but he has to get used to it. The press release is hitting the airwaves within the hour so there's absolutely no turning back now.

He winds up downstairs in about a half hour, his hair combed back with some pomade (he is capable of using a moderate amount okay) to prevent it from curling again, some light linen pants, sneakers, and a light blue shirt he's still buttoning with pruney fingers as he blows into the kitchen. Oatmeal... on the stove. That's a call-back. Once his shirt is buttoned, though he doesn't notice he missed one and now it's hanging crookedly, he leans over the cutting board to grab a slice of banana. "No strawberry?" he asks in hopes of blowing over that whole thing earlier.