Composition

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony, Jon and OTA!
WHERE: The Temba Civics Centre and the library
WHAT: Tony is looking for some help for a little art project
WHEN: End of November
WARNINGS: I can guarantee you Tony and Jon are going to get weird, but what kind of weird is a gamble. Some of the paint effects are open to interpretation, so tag accordingly I guess?

a. NETWORK//TEXT un:iron man//PUBLIC
Do you know how to draw? Paint? Hold a paintbrush at all? We're hiring! Join us at the Civic Centre, downtown Temba, to contribute your artistic excellence to an important installation in Temba's cultural expression. No resume or portfolio necessary. Bring snacks.


b. He-Row Moor All [OTA! Treat this as a mingle, and feel free to get wild with the paint effects]
There aren't many more instructions for interested artists or intrigued onlookers arriving at the Civic Centre. Upon entering, the facing wall of the comfortable entrance hall has been scrubbed clean in expectant preparation. Artists might get an idea of what to do with the items arranged around it, like the small pile of roughly fabricated brushes made of sticks and an array of different material tips, such as grass and fur. A round, metal robot or droid, with six spidery legs and a wide camera lens considers them and will move around the room skittishly. If it isn't bothered, it will project images of some familiar faces onto the floor. They seem to be the same faces that accompany a He-Row's name in the communication device dictionaries, but some of them definitely aren't on that list...

Tacked to the centre of the wall is a small scrap of paper with a surprisingly geometric, but incredibly vague sketch of what looks kind of like a police line up: various shapes of people standing next to each other in what might be an amateur's rigidity.

None of this would be any use without the containers of paint(?) arrayed against the wall. Take your pick! This definitely came from a very reliable source, all very local and organic, so you shouldn't be worried about how toxic it might be if you get it on your skin.

Red is a familiar colour. A lot like that fruit around town, or the juice produced on the Flygood.

Blue gets weirdly sticky. Like, REALLY sticky. On the wall its fine, but once in contact with skin you're not going to want to let anything else touch it...

Yellow is a real jolt to the system. One minute you might be painting happily, the next minute you're bouncing off the walls like a shot of adrenaline.

Mix some more colours and you might be in some real trouble.

Painters might notice one last thing as they turn around to go back out the door; a tiny stack of thin, hammered brass tags, all of them stamped simply 'I. O. U.'. Maybe they should take one before they go. It's not like anything bad could happen.

c. Nearby... [for Jon]
There wasn't anything obvious to Tony about the mural project that should be irritating Jon as much as it seemed to be. Not that he thought there would be much to stop him if he did understand where this distaste was coming from any better; he was used to asking forgiveness. In fact, sneaking his way into the library to leave his apology gift was getting to be annoyingly familiar, and even with the nagging awareness of Jon's recent reticence starting to settle uncomfortably in Tony's chest, he was comfortable enough in the repetition of the act to linger for a moment against Jon's desk in the basement and consider what D.A.T.A. was observing in the Civic Centre. No, there was no way this was a terrible idea. At worst, it was a waste of time for a handful of people who happened to enjoy painting and maybe could have been doing something more productive if miserable instead, like peeling potatoes. Space potatoes. Around Tony, stacked on the desk and without anything shiny this time to attract the disruptive attention of the mothcats, were a group of bouquets. Five of them, in fact; none of them particularly big, to Tony's frustration, just big enough to be tied neatly with a long piece of grass around their stems, and all sorted by hue. They had looked impressive while all gathered in his arms, but once they were spread on the desk they looked a lot less bountiful, and Tony had sighed and was frowning as he crossed his arms and his ankles and stared blankly into the middle distance as he considered his cameras.

Comments

c

[beholding_archivist]

Jon has, of course, received Tony's public call for the local artists to assemble, deciding to check in there later. Not to make sure nothing has gone up in flames, of course, though that would be the preferred outcome still.

It has been a quiet day for the Archivist so far. A day spent with taking care of his accumulated laundry by taking to over to the hangar and spending some time in the ship he has been assigned to, treating himself to a hot beverage and his own pondering while the washing machine works. Jon is far from finished pondering when he returns to the library with his box of clean laundry, being greeted by a few mothcats on his way to the basement.

Yes, he could have known that Tony is down there, but he doesn't. He yet tries to not keep a constant eye on the man, which results in a genuinely surprised reaction once he spots Tony in front of his desk which is currently covered in- "Flowers?"

[in_extremis]

It took Tony a few blinks to come out of his network fugue, staring at Jon for a beat like he didn't recognize him in his surprise at the arrival, then breaking into a grin that might have almost been genuine. The affection in it was quickly masked by his defensive bombast, trying to look like he belonged there despite his guilty sneaking, and the sharp uptick into a smirk as he accepted, "I am very sweet and intoxicating. Does that make you my honeybee?" Jon wasn't grumbling or glaring yet, that was good. Tony could use this element of surprise and be gone before Jon remembered what he was angry about, and pushed away from the desk with a motion like he might relieve Jon of his box to let him investigate the delivery.

[beholding_archivist]

That initial reaction leaves Jon flustered for at least a few moments. At least long enough to allow Tony to take the box out of his hands.

It's easy enough to figure out what this is meant to be, though, and Jon's eyes settle on the gathering of flowers while a small frown starts to settle on his forehead. "I take it this is your apology." He concludes and looks over to Tony, a single eyebrow being pulled up ever so slightly. "Nice to see you stuck around as well." Unless, of course, Jon has simply been back sooner than Tony has anticipated and the man has had intended to sneak away as he likes to do after leaving his gifts.

[in_extremis]

That had been the plan, and under that frown Tony did consider maybe the impulse could use some evaluating because Jon had made it clear enough the last time Tony was avoiding him how cruel that was and he really thought he had learned that lesson finally. Now, though, he couldn't quite bring himself to actually leave when he had Jon's attention, and instead was holding the box between them like a last line of defence, rolling his eyes to avoid meeting Jon's with his guilt and still drawn to risking a sidelong look to watch Jon's face.

"Listen, it's part one," he insisted, though he had no follow up plans yet and was going to have to figure out something extravagant now, but it didn't look like Jon was accepting the apology as it was so Tony had to buy himself some time. "These have a time limit, had to make the most of them. You know what, not even the apology, forget about it, I haven't apologized yet, they're just here to brighten the place up, and I'm working on it. I'll put this away." Tony did not appear to have any intention of following through with that last part, remaining rooted to the spot and still looking hopefully at Jon. It's not like he knew where Jon's laundry went anyway.

[beholding_archivist]

While Tony works his way through his answer, Jon watches him patiently, the frown, however, not wavering. "What, exactly, are you apologizing for, Tony." Jon asks in an even tone. Being aware he has messed up somewhere isn't necessarily difficult, but for Tony to figuring out what exactly is a whole different story.

Jon will hold off on any comments regarding the flowers for now, though. He does recognize the work that went into gathering them, of course.

[in_extremis]

Jon was supposed to be the one that knew those details, Tony just knew he was in trouble and was trying to get Jon to smile at him again. That stubborn frown was definitely not helping the situation. Tony was pretty sure he started sweating despite the chill in the basement, and cleared his throat to buy himself the extra second to work out the most acceptable answer, because now all of them did not sound correct. Really, he had a backlog. "The...mural?" he eventually had to try, because that was the most immediate problem, and the one he had been trying to mitigate with the flowers, after all. There was no way Jon had missed his call for artists. Not that he was ignoring the rest of the problems. "And, boss, there's the issue of my whole...personality, I've been working on it, I think I've made progress, but it's a big one--that's not an excuse--and the trying to set you on fire...thing, and that burn, I know a bunch of stuff isn't going to fix that and I hate it, I'm struggling with that one, I don't know how to fix a scar here, and when you're glaring at people like that, when you got angry with Cayde the other day, I have some apologies to make about that but that's more of a personal restraint problem, maybe that's part of the personality issue, I'm trying to break it down into more manageable targets." Deep breath. "So I brought flowers."

b

[mutedsuspicions]

Lerith entered the civic center, unable to fight the curiosity and urge to explore his new 'home' city. Was it a city or a town? It didn't matter, there weren't any slavers here so far, so maybe it was actually a sort of paradise. He has his hood up and ears on alert as he looks around. Were people painting? There had been a message on his device, but he only haphazardly read it before going back to eating.

A device got his attention. It was showing drawings - no, images - on the floor and moving around. It kept doing that. Oh! Was it a fancy thing like Miss Celty's motorcycle? It wasn't making any noise like Shooter. Hm. As it stopped long enough, Lerith crouched down next to it to gently poke the top of it. Could he pick it up? Was it something that thought for itself?

Why did it keep showing images like that? Were those other people that lived here?

[beholding_archivist]

It would be nice if Jon could actually be surprised at Tony starting to guess what he is apologizing for, though his surprise much rather manifests in a grimace and Jon taking half a step back at Tony suggesting the mural might be an issue. He blinks at Tony as the man goes on, reaching up to the side of his face when Jon's most recent scar is being brought up, finding himself baffled that that apparently is an issue in Tony's eyes. His eyes briefly flick back to his desk once Tony finally lands on the flowers before quickly returning to Tony.

There is a short pause in which silence at least attempts to settle before Jon takes a deep breath. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for!" Somehow he feels like this details actually needs to be made clear, so he does. His tone maintains an edge as he continues. "I'm not mad about the scar, Tony, and I have told you that. Also I'm not mad about the mural. It's a good idea and I would have supported it if you hadn't delivered it by literally throwing yourself off a building! I'm not mad, I'm worried! And I try what I can to not constantly watch you to give you your privacy, but then things like that happen and I find myself picturing how it could have all gone wrong." Jon's tone and voice shifts there, losing some of its edge as his focus drifts sideways and feint, barely notable patches of distortion crackle across the reality of the library's basement. "And I see you falling, further and further until you hit the ground and your body breaks, bones snapping ans skin tearing and I see you lying there, broken and bloody and 𝓲͇̚𝓷̬̓ 𝓪ͭͅ𝓰̠̈𝓸ͥͅ𝓷͚ͭ𝔂̮̐-"

[in_extremis]

This would have been less excruciating for both of them if Jon had just interrupted Tony instead of letting him embarrass himself as he floundered and apparently missed every mark. Neither of them were terribly surprised about that, though, so when Jon did shout at him, Tony gave a stiff nod and pursed his lips, hitching the box higher against his chest and keeping his gaze averted as Jon continued. As for the scar, he started to mutter, "No, of course not, I'm mad about it, though,so--" How much of an issue the mural might be was more dubious, distracting Tony into meeting Jon's eye again to gauge his sincerity, because Tony had been sure there was something wrong after Jon had walked out over it. Jon was still probably right to be angry, that would still leave Tony in the dark about what exactly he had to apologize for, but...

Tony continued to watch as Jon looked away, anxiety tightening up his spine at the warning tingle at the base of his skull and flicker at the edge of his vision. This wasn't an unfamiliar concern--not from Jon, who had yelled at Tony enough times after a risky encounter, and also not from a whole history of Tony's girlfriends who couldn't handle the stress of his commitment to the Iron Man. This wasn't about the Iron Man, though, this was about him and a hot shame that was only stoked by Jon's accompanying display of power. "I didn't throw myself off a building," he replied, jaw tight with his own frustration. "It's a zipline, a toy, children play with them. I know I'm not like you, and Cayde, and Cal, and--I feel obsolete, and there's nothing I can do to keep up. I know. But I can handle worse than a toy, and I promise you I don't need to be reminded of my weakness. I know."

[beholding_archivist]

There are a couple of things here that draw Jon's attention, starting with Tony being mad about the scar he left on Jon's face, which quite likely can be attributed to guilt, and ending somewhere in what appears to be an entire pool of frustrations Tony is quite obviously dwelling in. Jon regards him for a prolonged moment. A moment that ends with him taking in a deep breath in an attempt to draw his own lingering irritation back in and his attention shifting back to the arrangement of flowers before he tales a step back forward, towards Tony, and reaches a hand out to the man's shoulder, indicating for him to move over to the desk with him and sit down on the chair Jon usually uses when working there.

Jon will wait until Tony has taken a seat. "Tell me, what makes you believe you're obsolete?" He asks in a stern, clearly concerned voice.

[in_extremis]

Tony didn't know what to do with that pause, feeling all of his pent up energy draining into his expectant tension as he waited for Jon to snarl back, then clutching the box resolutely so he wouldn't drop it and flinching at Jon's approach, prepared for a strike and not a guiding hand. When the hit didn't come, the tension all vented out of him at once in a sigh, leaving him with a new frown of frustration down at Jon's laundry for this gentleness he didn't deserve, until he finally pushed the box out of the way against the side of the desk and found himself seated where he only felt smaller and more pathetic for Jon's concern.

He only looked up briefly with an expression of incredulity, not sure why Jon had to ask when he was the one so worried about Tony's bones breaking, then dropped his focus back to about Jon's waistband to explain, "Because I am. I'm a step behind in human evolution, literally a neanderthal watching homo sapiens shape the world into something better. Even with the Avengers, most of them aren't even mutants but they've all adapted--and with an outrageous amount of money and the newest developments in science and technology, I'm still struggling behind them, I'm still an ape in a tin can watching Captain America, who died well before I was born and I grew up admiring--I'll never have that grace." Hopefully, Jon could extrapolate on his own how much worse that was when Tony didn't have the resources to even achieve that half-measure, and he stood by and watched while Jon just told a crisis to end. "And it's not that I resent any of them, any of you," Tony assured him before he thought he had to stop being so extraordinary for the sake of Tony's ego. He rubbed a hand against his chest, over his heart and where he could feel the scar he put so much work into hiding, whatever form it had taken over his life, and tried to explain, "It's just...you weren't supposed to notice."

[beholding_archivist]

Jon listens patiently as Tony answers. He won't interrupt and keeps his arms lightly crossed over his chest while leaning against the side of his flower-covered desk.

How does this all sound, feel so familiar?

Because that's just how Jon has felt and seen himself when he first learned about his role as Archivist and only found himself at the mercy of other avatars he met. Avatars with more experience, knowledge, more active powers to invoke fear and be monstrous than merely asking questions. And what Tony is saying inevitably brings Jon back there. Years back... But he has grown since then. Evolved into the one being that had the fate of an entire world at his mercy.

But that was a different time. A different world. And here? Jon once again finds himself struggling just as much to figure out what exactly his place is and what worth his powers have in a world not ruled by terror.

Exhaling, Jon gives a small nod of understanding. "I'm sorry you feel that way. To me, you are still incredible. You may not possess superhuman strength, speed or wield magic, but you have one, if not the most brilliant minds I have ever had the fortune to encounter. You are creative, bright and talented in ways not many people are. I couldn't name another man who finds himself in a dilapidated city and ends up building something like the Iron Man out of the bits and pieces scavenged together from the ruins of an alien society. I couldn't do it. And I know Steve wouldn't have been able to perform such a feat as well. At the same time I couldn't have punched anyone the way Steve could. Or fire a weapon with the precision of Cayde or Echo. Neither of us can keep up with Tommy and only few can be as sneaky as Catra. Me? I literally just know everything. But knowing and understanding?" He gives a slow shake of his head. "Not the same thing. What I'm trying to say is that- Neither of us should try and measure themselves against the skills of another being. We all have our strengths- And weaknesses. And that's fine." Jon pauses for just a moment, then shrugs ever so slightly. "Also sometimes wishing to be something else, something more... Does not necessarily work out in our favor." Just look at him, Tony. Jon has never wanted to become an embodiment of observed fear.

[in_extremis]

Tony didn't think he had been comparing himself, and now Jon must have thought him softer yet than the fragile thing he had already been worrying about, to feel like he had to give Tony this pep talk. Tony shrank from it, head bowed with restless fingers scrubbing through his hair and trying to figure out where he had miscalculated, okay, it did kind of sound a lot like a comparison, until Jon was explaining his own limits, of not understanding. That drew Tony out of his cringe, so he could put both hands out in hopeful expectation for Jon to offer one of his while he spoke, where Tony could kiss his apologies into his knuckles. He really hadn't meant to imply that what Jon had suffered to get here, to the power he did have, was worth the fireworks.

"I've been working with these extraordinary teams for a long time," he said, with more care than he usually spoke as he tried to navigate this properly. "I do know that everyone has their strengths. That was the point of the Avengers--a team to take on the threats that no one of us could handle on their own. Fill in those gaps, rely on each other." With a slow inhale, he worried his lip then explained, "I rely on you. A lot. I trust you to see what I don't, and be my armor. When I throw myself off of a building, I know my team will catch me. I do know, very well, what I can handle. I do." 'Catch me' didn't usually mean keeping Tony safe, only seeing his intent through, but Tony did think he knew when that sacrifice was worth making. There was a shiver under his skin then, uncomfortable with admitting that trust, or how much he really was asking of Jon every day, but he persisted, "You've already proven that you can take care of me. Let me...trust you. Don't worry."

[beholding_archivist]

The wordless request for one of his hands brings a soft smile to Jon's lips. It's a request he gladly fulfills, the gesture seemingly simple, yet meaning a lot.

As does Tony's admission.

"Okay." He says after letting a moment pass. "Okay. You can trust me. And I trust you. But- I can't promise never to worry. Especially when great heights are concerned." Jon lets his eyes drop away towards the desk full of flowers. "That's how my father died. By falling off a ladder. And- I had to jump off a cliff myself back when we were headed to London when my Earth was... Not right. It didn't kill me, of course, and unfortunately even unconsciousness got me denied when my body hit the ground. Waiting for my body to... Reset itself... Was not a great experience." He lets out a short little laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood again. "Heh. Makes me wish I could just hover ominously over the ground."

Another pause to let bad memories and attempted humor pass and Jon nods again. This time more firmly. "I will catch you." A promise.

[in_extremis]

Jon seemed to be full of stories of terrible falls, so maybe Tony should have been more prepared for that simmering frustration that he had tried to temper with flowers to come from such a personal anxiety. He knew Jon had lost his parents, but never made a guess at what had happened to them, and he folded Jon's hand in both of his then in condolence and understanding. Okay, he did deserve all of that energy. and should have been more sensitive. Of course that wasn't bad enough, though, and Tony realized with a shock and grimace of horror, finally meeting Jon's eye again, that when he said he saw bones snapping and skin tearing, he meant he already knew it. Only, Tony wouldn't just reset. Trying to help with Jon's attempt at levity, Tony grumbled, "You don't have to rub it in."

With a tug at Jon's hand, he promised in return, "I'll lift you up," with a lopsided smile, not confident in his own honesty with how reliably he seemed to drag Jon down into frustration. But he could definitely handle, "So you can hover," and tipped forward in his seat, spreading one hand up Jon's hip like he might pick him up off the ground right then.

[beholding_archivist]

"You already made me fly." Jon points out with a smile and his free hand stroking along the side of Tony's face before settling against his neck. "So- I trust you. Not only that you won't let me fall, but-" A shrug. Gentle and carrying the entire list with things Jon is willing to trust Tony with at this point. No need to elaborate.

"Thanks for the flowers."

[in_extremis]

Jon did manage to delay Tony's teasing while Tony basked in this affection with heavy-lidded eyes and a lean into Jon's hand, but the threat of his smirk was inevitable, especially with all of this energy built up from the ratcheting tension of having his wires exposed. "You sure, boss?" was the warning Jon got before Tony was accepting his trust as an invitation to scoop him up from behind his thighs as Tony rolled up onto his feet, where he hadn't properly accounted for the way his face would press into Jon's stomach and he snickered with the unsteady wobble that suggested this position was a lot less sustainable than he had anticipated. He really should have picked these flowers and screwed up his courage faster, instead of holding his distance from Jon's frustration. Maybe he'd actually remember that this time.

[on_repeat]

Apparently Lerith wasn't going to be alone with the robot for very long.

"There you are! Of all the places..."

The voice that filtered through the confines of a helmet trailed off when Echo saw D.A.T.A. wasn't alone, stopping to see that this was a person he didn't recognize right off the bat. After a pause, he removed his helmet, eyelids fluttering before he recomposed himself. "--Oh. Sorry, I didn't know there was someone else here already."

[beholding_archivist]

Jon lets out a short yelp that is both surprise and delight as he is suddenly picked up and finds himself having to hold onto Tony's shoulders and head in an attempt to maintain some balance. The laughter is genuine and in its openness one of the sounds Jon less frequently picked up from the Archivist.

"Christ, Tony!" Jon exclaims, still half laughing and not exactly meaning to reprimand Tony for his actions. It just feels like it is expected of him to at least somewhat complain.

[in_extremis]

Even the worst of his complaints were better than his silence, so Tony was happy to draw more out of him. Jon's laughter was the last pressure release of Tony's tension, an easy warmth in his chest that bubbled up in a responding giggle while he teetered on his heel and shifted one hand up Jon's back so Tony could let him down gently into the bed of flowers as he tipped over the desk. Their bounty didn't seem quite so meagre with Jon in the middle to fill them out and scattering a flurry of loose petals for Tony to tenderly pluck from Jon's hair as he extracted his arms. He moved with such gentle affection that it didn't sound much like a calculated warning as he said, "Let's hear that one pitched up just a little more," and Jon wasn't given much time between Tony tugging at the tails of his shirt and bowing down to nip teasing, feathered bites up his flank to the curve of his ribs.

[beholding_archivist]

Jon's laughter is briefly cut off by a noise of surprise when his world spins and tips back and he finds himself on the hard surface of his desk, cushioned and surrounded by flowers and their soft, yet sweet scent.

He has but a moment to take in the situation before Tony's voice pulls his attention back to the other man and he opens his mouth as if to reply, brows rising and a hint of color settling on his cheeks. The brush of Tony's fingers tickles at first, causing Jon to suck in his breath while seeing Tony's lips and teeth descent upon his skin. The more stubborn side of him wants to hold back any sounds as much as possible, but they both know well enough that Jon is rarely one to remain silent for long and that previous laughter makes it harder to hold back any further noises, be they of amusement or fondness or those more involuntary sounds Tony likes to draw out of him.

It's a little gasp that starts it, summoned by what may seem to be an innocent little brush of Tony's teeth against a more sensitive part of Jon's side. That gasp easily evolves into a low set of affectionate chuckles and Jon lets his hands settle on the back of Tony's head, neck and spread his fingers across his upper back. "Hmm, you make that sound like a challenge, Tony." He says as if his voice isn't already about to betray him.

[in_extremis]

"More of a suggestion," Tony insisted as innocently as he could manage in a warm murmur against Jon's skin, not helped at all by the obvious hook of his satisfied smirk for the breathy sounds of his success so far. They could do better than that, he knew Jon was ticklish somewhere. He kept one hand tangled in the hem of Jon's shirt against his chest like he might hold him down if he started squirming, while the other danced lightly up his side, chasing that gasp for the tender spot that would have him complaining again. "Or..." Tony was gracious enough to bargain, keeping his gaze lifted to watch Jon through his lashes even as he dipped to spread his kisses down Jon's stomach, "we could try something lower."

[mutedsuspicions]

Lerith had picked up the device by this point, looking over it since it wasn't being a threat. Was it like the device he used to type? About to give it a shake to hear the noise, the voice startled him instead. The elf almost dropped the robot, catching it and holding it to his chest.

The man was wearing armor. Had a helmet. Was he a soldier? Bounty hunter? His breathing elevated until he mentally stopped himself. Stop that! Kaz told him that slavers wouldn't be here, so there shouldn't be hunters either! Slowly he put the 'creature' down on the floor and raised his hands. Unarmed.

[Yours?] He pointed from it to the man with a questioning look. [What is it?]

He really needed to stop signing to people that didn't understand. [Wait.]

The device was pulled out. 'is this metal creature yours?'

B fashionably late

[deal_me_in]

It would be terrible if he were a no-show after he'd gotten all geared up for this project. While his spirits may have been a little dampened after certain exchanges of words, Cayde refused to let it keep him from setting out to do some good work.

He was sketching out more prominent features to make up the faces and the rough circles and scrawls marking names of people in place of identifiers, stepping back from the wall now and then to hold the pencil out to measure proportions. At some point he decided to try his hand at painting, dribbling colors into a plate to mix into something more agreeable of a hue. If there were any terrible side-effects to these mixtures he was absolutely oblivious to them.

[beholding_archivist]

While he opens his mouth as if to respond to Tony's initial reply, Jon pauses at the sight of Tony's smirk and the feeling of Tony's fingers teasing along his side. Jon really is just lucky that Tony doesn't explicitly memorizes the spots that make Jon react more intensely. Though maybe Tony simply enjoys the search. A quest of teasing and testing - Jon wouldn't be surprised.

He tries to hide that little treacherous twitch Tony teases out of him. Though maybe Tony doesn't notice and gets distracted by the slight, yet notable increase of color on Jon's face at Tony's next suggestion. "That- That would be cheating." Jon tries to frown, tries to keep his voice level. Which likely would be more convincing if he weren't pulling a leg up against Tony's side and keeping his hands and fingers on Tony's shoulders and brushing against the back of his head and neck.