The cold water helps, droplets still clung to his hair and lashes. Dripping onto his hands, white knuckled as they gripped the sink. Ice blue eyes flickered up to stare up at his reflection.

Tony looks sickly in the stark light of the bathroom, his pale reflection staring right back at him, judging him with its own eyes that looked just as haunted as he felt. But he does not see his own face in the mirror, but the features he shares with another. His face was not wholly his own, but part of a matching set. His other half his paralleled doppelgänger was probably rotting six feet deep.

He fights the urge to puke; pain fills his head again. White hot and piercing as his brain flounders to cobble some kind of defense against the mental on slot, numb fingers grope blindly for the flask Gilver had given him. Anything to numb the pain. Tony's refection watches as he brings the flask to his lips taking a long pull. The whiskey inside was rich, and probably expensive. Not that he cared much, it all worked the same in the end.