[This is not a conversation Tony ever actually planned to have with anyone, much less someone he just met. He's going to press on. But he'd almost rather be melting his own fingerprints off.

He tries to laugh, but it's just sad and maybe a little bitter. He tries finding words again and finally just sighs, shoulders dropping.]

It's just not in my blood. I have nothing to go on. [I don't ever want to be my father.]

Can we maybe not talk about this, I mean, seriously, just... can we not? Please.