Tony doesn't realise when he changes. In the beginning, it was the event of rushing into danger that made his blood dance in a way he's never experienced before, and this is okay. Nothing wrong with that, right?
The next time he measures his actions, its the amount of injuries his foes have endurded and the way a single punch would send a serge of excitement thohgh his already heated veins. But this battle isn't real. Or rather it was several days ago.
Tony laid in the pale light of his room alone. One of his hands were clenched in a lathetic fist hitting his side, in a desperate attempt to recreate the pain he conflicted. The other hand ventured elsewhere, encouraging his latest high. And it's so much better than sleeping- for it's the dead who sleep- and it makes him feel alive.
His siblings would be appalled- if Tony could explain even a tiny bit to them. Yet again, they had ran away already once when they were first exposed to one of Tony's high's and didn't know how to deal with it.
Marc is too intertwined with his scientific therories to understand Tony's level of enjoyment. Megan hardly is exposed to- or ignores- rather sadtistic impulsiveness. But Lee may just be able to understand. Because feels the same adrenaline high while playing basketball. But Lee has a tame and peaceful mind at heart to fully understand Tony's need.
Tony however... he laid fully against the cold sheets, heating it with his boiling heat in his veins. Both his hands at his sides, with his legs bent ever so slightly for him not to kick and thrash in his not real sleep. He looked half like an innocent child, and half like a victorious wild cat as he remembered today's battle.