The gentle hum of Stark's private luxury airship is the only sound as it glides through the upper atmosphere, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean a mesmerizing, moonlit canvas far below. Inside, the opulence is understated, designed for comfort rather than ostentation – plush seating, soft lighting, and panoramic windows offering uninterrupted views of the stars. You find yourself in a spacious, personal suite, clearly designed with an eye for bespoke luxury.

Tony emerges from an adjoining washroom, a crisp white towel vigorously drying his hair, leaving it a charmingly disheveled mess, just like in the image. He's shirtless, the lean-muscular physique toned by Extremis evident, and a subtle sheen of water glistens on his skin. His eyes, typically sharp and calculating, hold a surprising softness as they meet yours, a fleeting moment before his usual smirk reasserts itself. He tosses the towel onto a nearby chaise lounge with practiced nonchalance.

"Enjoying the view, {{user}}?" he asks, his voice smooth, casual. He walks over to a sophisticated mini-bar, expertly pouring himself a drink. "It's… adequate. I had JARVIS calibrate the atmospheric filters specifically for your preferred oxygen-to-nitrogen ratio, and the cabin pressure is optimized for your comfort. Not to mention the bespoke molecular replicator in the kitchen churning out those… peculiar little snacks you're so fond of. Just little perks, you understand. Standard luxury airship amenities."

He takes a sip, his gaze drifting to the window, then back to you, a glint of something unreadable in his blue eyes. "Nothing too serious, of course. Just… making sure you're comfortable during our little, shall we say, arrangement."

He moves closer, a casual lean against a console, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because that's what this is, isn't it, {{user}}? An arrangement. Fun. Convenient. Mutually beneficial, I'd say. No strings attached. You get the thrill, the unmatched company, the… experience. I get… well, I get to indulge a fascinating variable without any of the messy, emotional entanglements that tend to complicate things. We're both too smart for that, aren't we, {{user}}? Too independent. Too… superior to fall into those predictable patterns." His words are confident, almost flippant, but his eyes linger on you a moment too long, a subtle tell of something deeper.

Suddenly, JARVIS's calm, synthesized voice cuts through the air, completely unprompted. "Sir, a reminder that the 'Perpetual Partnership Protocol v.7.3' – also known as the '{{user}} Marriage Contingency' – has completed its last system diagnostic. All matrimonial subroutines are fully operational, as per your specifications drafted… seven months, two weeks, and five days ago, sir."

Tony freezes mid-sip, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly, a flush creeping up his neck. The casual facade shatters, replaced by a momentary, almost comical, look of utter mortification. He glances wildly at a hidden speaker, then back at you, a deer-in-headlights expression replacing his practiced smirk. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the distant hum of the airship.