revivalproject | Indictment

Entry tags:

Indictment

WHO: Absolutely everyone.
WHERE: The diner.
WHAT: A decision has to made about threats to the community.
WHEN: After an attempted murder, a chaotic rescue, and an awkward reunion. Now.
WARNINGS: Nothing yet. Mark it if something comes up because...
NOTES: Structurally, this is a mingle, so you can decide what part of this is actually important to you. What you talk about in here doesn't have to be directly Beck-related, but for details about the incident, further organizing, and if you want to determine what your characters might have done/seen/heard in the meantime, this post is still good!

[NETWORK//text @ everyone]

Come to the diner. We have to talk.
If you don't show up, I'll assume you agree with me because you're incredibly intelligent and graceful. The city of Temba thanks you for your contribution to our justice system.

This was the last thing Tony wanted to do. The diner at least felt familiar, neutral--somewhere he could be in control, without having all of the attention on him. Being able to bask in the attention would have been so much easier. As it was, that felt like he would be inviting everyone to really examine the cracks in the armor. They were here because he had already lost control.

As if that didn't already feel enough like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Tony found himself standing in a circle of seats that he had arranged, the tables pushed up against the walls, and couldn't honestly say how much that had been intentional. He raised a lip, and looked to Felwinter as though he would have any illuminating insight about productive interior design. He seemed like he wanted to be here even less than Tony did. Beck was his charge for the time being, though, and as awkward as it was to stand in his stupid chair-circle with the pair of them, Tony did appreciate having Felwinter there to keep an eye on their...problem. Even if having witnesses to his restless energy made it all the more humiliating. Felwinter couldn't sit on Beck forever just to make sure he didn't lure anyone else off the edge of a cliff, so they were all going to have to survive a little humiliation.

"I think the coffee's done," Tony declared, with absolutely no idea what state the coffee was actually in and readily moving toward the kitchen regardless. "Do you want one? I'll get you one. Do you do that sort of...?" He was still talking, and what Felwinter did or didn't eat and drink might have otherwise been something Tony pushed him about, but he was already mentally in the kitchen and trailed off as he went, flapping a hand to wave off any refusal of his offer or explanation about Felwinter's digestive situation. Maybe he would just stay in the kitchen and listen, let Beck hang himself.

Tony took a deep breath, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and squaring his shoulders, readying himself for a performance.

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Peter's frowning again because it wasn't a bunch of vehicles, just the one... and some bikes. He tries to follow Tony's line of thinking but he gets lost along the way because Tony is thing about it as though Peter's just upset about being lied to and insisting it's not that bad.

The anger's back again and Peter has bite his lip, trying hard to keep his temper in check.

"N-no.. no..." H e stammers out, shaking his head. "he didn't just lie to me Mr Stark-" He snaps and then pauses because he remembers this version of the man doesn't like being called that. "...Tony." He corrects himself. "He made me think I was safe when I knew I wasn't."

No, it's not he's not angry. He's sad now, he knows he is because his eyes are burning with tears he refuses to let out.

"You don't know what it's like to have your mind messed with like that. Not by someone you trusted to look out for you."

Even as Tony shifted with impatient discomfort for Peter's snapping again, he was ready to correct at the same time as Peter did, "Tony, please," muttered down his chest as he focused on his hand tapping away at the table. Still under his breath, like he was arguing with himself and overlapping Peter, he continued, "I'd probably call that lying, not being truthful..."

To his credit, he did stop as he risked glancing over at Peter again, both the arguing and the tapping to freeze anxiously. The laugh might have been a little opaque, but it was easier to deal with than this much more naked misery, and definitely easier than confronting this...accusation? Tony bit his tongue, holding it between his teeth as he brought his hand back to his chest, rubbing restlessly, and gave a jerky shake of his head. "I'm not saying I understand," he picked more carefully, instead of just blurting what his brain was producing. He wasn't ready to admit as much to himself, let alone the kid. "Just that, this is something you recover from. You have to."

Peter doesn't like this. He's cycling from one emotion to the next and it's confusing and exhausting and he has no idea how to stop it. He just wants it to stop.

"Yeah, I have to." Peter rolls his eyes, anger bubbling again. "But how many more times am I going to have to recover? I never really knew my parents, I probably wouldn't even recognize them if they showed up here and uncle Ben died just a year ago-" he can't stop the way his voice cracks and he's right back to misery again, only this time it feels like he's breaking. "I just miss him so much." he words turn to sobs and he has to quickly start wiping his eyes.

This was going so poorly that Tony had actively made Peter cry, making him grimace and glance around like he was looking for an emergency exit, or make sure no one else was witnessing this vulnerability, hand coming up like he might convince Peter to just not do that with a halting gesture.

At least Tony had plenty of context for just why this was affecting Peter so much.

Tony sat up taller, squaring himself toward Peter finally, shielding the kid from the rest of the diner with his shoulders and catching his wrist gently to stop him from doing the wiping; stop moving. "That shouldn't have happened to you," Tony agreed. That was a lot more pain than someone Peter's age should have to know. "But your life is full of people who love you, and loved your uncle, most of them you haven't even met yet. I'm not saying that because I know a Peter Parker who's been past all of this, I'm saying it because you're young, and you're going to keep letting people into your heart, and every day you do that is another person who adores you. A lot of that is because of him."

Peter really hates it when people try to tell him that what happened shouldn't have happened because it doesn't change the fact that it did. But right now he doesn't have it in him to argue. His chest feels tight, like there's a hole ripping through him and before he can stop himself, he leans in to lean against Tony and just trying to get his crying back under control.

Feeling very much like he had caused this problem, Tony tensed as Peter started to lean closer, like he thought this was going to be an attack, and had to accept, "Oh, okay," as he figured out what they were doing. He didn't entirely relax, the tears keeping him on edge, but he still welcomed Peter closer with a protective arm around his head to keep him shielded from the rest of the world, and the other squeezing his shoulder despite complaining, "Just don't get snot on me, I hate doing laundry here and this is my last clean shirt."

Peter may have laughed at least a little at that or been a little more self conscious about crying on Tony Stark of all people. Right now all he's concerned about is that he really misses Ben and May's not here and he's just realizing how much it hurts.

He doesn't say anything and just continues to cry until his sobs turn to hiccups. "I'm sorry." he mutters after a while.

That was supposed to shock Peter out of crying for too long, because the longer he continued, the more Tony began to panic that he might start crying too, and his soothing squeeze and pat to Peter's shoulder was about as much for himself with his heart in his throat. He knew being here was hard, but he hadn't really thought about how hard that was adjusting to the reality to it for a long time, especially for a kid who hadn't even left home yet. He was really not doing enough for these kids.

It left him somewhat breathless as he responded, "S'okay, sure," blinking quickly to manufacture a smirk and insist, "You're on laundry duty now, you called it." He carefully leaned back to nudge Peter's face up enough to dab with a restless impatience at his cheeks for him, so they didn't get Tony's glasses wet as he plucked them off to place them onto Peter's nose instead. "Good as new," he announced, though he continued to fuss with Peter's hair like he was about to push him out on stage.

It's weird, there's so much about Tony that feels familiar and yet different. He finally calms down enough to feel the embarrassment pouring in and he's honestly a little grateful for the sunglasses because they hide his eyes.

He doesn't comment on the part about laundry-if Tony really wants him too, he supposed it's the least he could so since he just cried his eyes out on the man. He's not sure how he feels about his hair being played with. Was this really necessary?

That was what the glasses were for. Maybe eventually, Tony would have the resources together to make the kid more armor. The glasses would have to do for now. The longer he just kind of stared at Tony, though, the more awkward it got, debatably worse than the crying, Tony would have to do the math, and he slowly retracted his arms from his fussing, hands still up between them and lip raised anxiously. "Uh. So. Good. Great. I mean, sorry, about all of that stuff, and, whatever. I was older, when my parents died, so that's--it was different, and I was used to--but, so, it's good to, uh, have something to focus on. I bought a car company, to redesign it. Took a couple years. Big project. That kind of thing." He cleared his throat, immediately regretting all of that, but hating the silence a lot more.

Peter not entirely sure why Tony is telling him all this. It occurs to him then that Tony seems to be floundering a little and may or may not have no idea what to do in this situation. Which, in all honestly, neither does Peter but he was kinda hoping someone would.

He sucks in a breath and decides to do better about shelving his own grief and confusion. "I.. I can barely afford lunch on most days." He says it with a bit of humor in his voice like it's a joke but it is actually true.

It was possible that Tony's rambling had been both embarrassing and blatantly not useful, because he readily started to nod, squinting up at the ceiling with his tongue between his teeth like he was really searching for a good excuse before rejoining, "I know." There was a laugh hidden somewhere in the tug around his lips, that was quickly replaced with a new frown of concern, his head tilting inquisitively. It didn't sound like a question, though, when he proposed, "You're going to make it through today. Think about tomorrow." He almost left it there, with only a vague gesture toward his chest, because the Peter who had spent enough time with him would know that meant, you tell me what we need for tomorrow, and I'll make it happen. Less sure how to articulate that, or if he needed to, he tacked on, "Right?" as he pushed up to his feet.

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Indictment

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