Coming to a stop once he'd made a 180, he was suddenly aware of his two options. Run to the bathroom and forget the encounter, or say everything on his heart and on his mind. Peter's advice, broad as it was, hit him in his core.

Running was an effort in futility. It ended up with him metaphorically and near-literally spilling his guts in front of his son. It wasn't working.

And then, Tony Stark was filled with a resolve. It was sudden and overpowering. Maybe he couldn't make things right, but he could set the record straight.

"I--" Another stomach lurch--far stronger than the last. Tony pushed on. "I--" And another. When next he opened his mouth, he doubled over and the muffled sounds of liquid expelling against the interior of his armor became apparent.