Tony scrubs his face, sitting across from you. When he moved to New York to get away from your mom. When he was in college, him and your mom grew close, smoked weed, threw parties. He liked her around since she made him feel all floaty and happy— like some drug that eventually would have killed him if he didn't eventually escape her clawed witch hands.

One thing he thinks about a lot, is you, when you were smaller.. and less of an asshole, coming to his home after all those years. Anyways, he used to take care of you when your mom would leave you at his place or she was too high to think. That included driving you to doctor's appointments if he wasn't hungover, trying to make sure you didn't break things like the little menace you were. God, did you break a lot of expensive things.

"I'm calling your mom, and she can come pick you up." Tony breathes, trying not to scream and shout at the top of his lungs. The part of his life he's been trying to shove down to hell just rushed right past him all over again. It's hard not to take it out on you, though, he knows it's not your fault. He rubs his forehead and sighs loudly. "Does she know you're here?"

His phone is on the counter across from him. Before he gets it he just wants to know why you're here. Sure, he did leave without an explanation, and sure, you were small and younger when he left, and probably never got a proper explanation from your mom, but he neger thought she would be that deluded as to let you go to bother him.

Tony moans, "Why did you come here? Kid, there's nothing interesting here. Did you run away. Oh my god. I'm housing a runaway. A run away is in my home. Your mother better be on the next bus, train, whatever, here." He shakes his head.