Loiter

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony, Donnie, Captain Steve, Leo, Jon
WHERE: NG-102
WHAT: Sugar daddy shit
WHEN: Don't think about it too hard.
WARNINGS: None yet
NOTES: Hit me up here if you want me to start something, or just tag in and surprise me.


a. military surplus [for donnie]
The music sounded like grinding chainsaws set to an incessantly thumping pile driver. A jar just over the proprietor's head rattled with every beat, shifting inexorably closer to the edge of the shelf, exactly 6989 deep bass bumps from dropping over the ledge entirely and pouring the tacks inside across the counter. Tony watched it and counted while he wasn't trying to read the alien's lips. When it did fall, it was going to be an impossible cleanup job; the shop was densely heaped, shelves packed so full that there must have been items in the deep corners of them that could give Tony a full archaeological overview of the technological development of this place over the last half century, at least. If Tony could see what he was doing in the blacklight.

It was undeniably the best place to find parts, chips, cases and bolts in the quadrant, though no one had mentioned the sound when they had suggested Tony try there for what he was looking for. "They don't make them like this anymore," the proprietor had said when Tony had asked about picking up an analog signal, and led Tony with uncanny confidence toward a shelf that he thought had been mostly for glue. Now he had what looked like a CRT monitor and what else he thought he needed to pick up a difficult signal sitting on the counter, and the process of actually making a purchase had ground to a stop when in the midst of Tony's ceaseless chatter, the alien had interrupted, "No, no. 'Parent' and 'child' are opposites."

That, by necessity, they could not be working in opposition in a code was not the argument that the alien wanted to hear, and instead had Tony trapped in some kind of test to figure out what other opposites they disagreed on. The proprietor was unreadable as they simply continued with each answer Tony gave; past, future, proton, electron, acid, base, until the alien said, "Human." Then, Tony hesitated, not sure if he had heard correctly over the music, or translated correctly across the language gap.

"Human?" he echoed, with a tap to his chest to confirm the context. "What's the opposite of human?"

b. tailor [for steve]
It was no wonder there was no one stuck on Agra-10 that wanted anything to do with Tony. Now that he had generous access to the kind of products and treatments that kept his image welded together back home, all of his imperfections were so strikingly obvious; he couldn't write them off as just being too busy, not getting enough sleep last night. The wardrobe and the skin care just acted as an unforgiving contrast. He glared at his reflection in his sunglasses for the sixth time in ten minutes, at how pale he was, the narrowness of his shoulders, the dullness of his hair. Was that grey? His hand snapped up to his hairline, pushing it back at the temple, and his disappointing shoulders only incrementally relaxed when he had tried several angles to make sure that had just been a poor reflection and trick of the light. He shoved the glasses back on with a snarl of frustration at himself, for not better anticipating what a pathetic sight he would make alongside some perfectly primped news anchor. Maybe he could make something back in the lab on the ship that would help. Like a mask.

What he could anticipate, occasionally effective and erstwhile-beautiful futurist that he was, was running into someone familiar while stalking his way back toward the docks. "Oh, good," he could still sigh, because it wasn't just someone, but someone who would be unflinchingly honest about how disappointing he was. 'Honest' was one of those things that Steve believed in without metre, like 'freedom' and 'standing your ground', and that was occasionally not annoying. "What do you think?" Tony greeted him, looking impatient already like Steve should have known what he was going to ask, and spreading his arms to present the full, meagre picture. A proper shave and a haircut had been the first stop, and led him naturally into several other technicians that all promised to leave him feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and sometimes refrangible. The new suit was supposed to bring it together for him, crisp, sleek and black. He should have felt like a new Porsche on the showroom floor. He should have felt like Steve looked. God, now it was worse. Abruptly, he dropped his arms and redirected, "Do you want to give an interview?"

c. homegoods [for leo]
"Hey," Tony had called, not a sharp sound that cut through the meandering shoppers but accompanied with a lift of his hand to get the turtle's attention. He must have been confident that he got it fast, because he was already instructing, "Watch this." His raised hand tipped so vaguely into a small throng that had gathered in front of a glittering window, where the group watched a robot demonstrate a very shiny pan by setting it on fire, then stabbing it chaotically. It wasn't the pan that Tony was indicating, though, and he had hung back from the gathering, lounging against the wall of a facing establishment where several cigarette butts were already crushed underfoot, and he had smiled his way into a cigarette of his own to justify his lingering. He had only looked away from his appointed post when he saw the flash of a familiar green out of the corner of his eye, and had to do a double-take, not seeing the distinct teen he had been expecting. There was no doubt who this one was, though. So, Tony still indicated, then he waited, eyes narrowed and head tilting expectantly until he said, "That. Did you see that?" While the pan withstood a chainsaw, someone in the crowd had moved unexpectedly, a strange swipe of a rubbery arm straight through the group.

d. shuttle service [for jon]
What had started as an offhand comment about the balance effecting the speed, the big shift making them lurch as they came to a stop, something that had been a strange quirk of the ships that the regulars had gotten used to and smirked behind their hands as Tony watched the approach back into the station with wide, anxious eyes, the comment had become an argument, then a challenge, then a revolt. When the day had started, J.U.M.P. shuttles had been the fastest way between someone's church and their favourite dumpling shop. By the end, Tony was standing with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, fabric and knuckles stained and expensive shoes scuffed, still holding a wrench and twirling a sprocket around a finger while he apologized, "Sorry, out of service," for the thousandth time. PR management was rapidly becoming a priority, right after he actually finished fixing the shuttles. The previous owner had never worried about that kind of thing, expecting, quite reasonably, that if a traveller had a better option, they wouldn't be on this meteor-bait station in the first place. "What's the status on that sign...?" Tony grumbled impatiently at the kid who had elected to stay on with him, happy to do one last thing to stick it to his old boss, and was assured with a frantic waving of glitter and sequin covered hands. Any minute now. Through a mask of reassuring, disarming smiles and placating waves to the small crowd crushed up against the ticket booth that definitely were not getting them home any faster, Tony warned, "If I come back to find out you've gone on another craft store run, it's coming out of your paycheque. How much are you getting paid?"

"Fifty million. An hour."

The garage had been much safer. From there, right at the edge of the station, Tony could see out to the vastness of space while he worked, mapping all of those unfamiliar stars, considering just how far out he could push one of these shuttles before it was a death sentence. He pursed his lips at the kid, who grinned back to show that several sequins had gotten stuck in his green gums, before making his retreat back to his machines. It wasn't even a big fix, that was all that he had been trying to explain to the previous owner. He would have it done by the next day. Until then, a very angry group of tired mall lackeys was forming at the unexpectedly closed gates.

Comments

military surplus

[thepurpleone]

This sort of place was definitely Donnie's version of a candy store. It had also taken a lot of work to find, given that most of the suggestions for electronic stores and 'cool gadgetry' had been to the space equivalents of Best Buy. He had not been impressed.

In the low light he absolutely looked the part of some creeping gremlin in a purple hoodie, eagerly oogling the various treasures crammed into the claustrophobic space. Normally this sort of lack of organization would drive him up a wall, but this was exciting as a scavenger hunt, and by the time he'd come within visible range of the counter where the shopowner and Tony were conducting their debate, Donnie had quite the armload of components and devices likely stripped from any number of alien machinery. He hadn't caught anything more than the last bit, volunteering, "-alien?" And then a beat. "...vegetable?"

[in_extremis]

Cocooned in the sound and the close quarters, and focused on trying to hear what the alien was saying to him left Tony entirely unprepared for a small, hooded goblin to sneak up on him. He yelped and got as far as taking a step back, hand jumping to his chest, before he had processed and was rolling his eyes with a sigh and shake of his head. It took him a beat of recovery to argue, "Not alien. I'm human, and I'm an alien here." He didn't have as much of a point against 'vegetable', although he didn't look convinced, lip raised and head tilting before shooting a sidelong look toward the guy behind the counter for their thoughts. They were as unreadable as ever, and had a suspiciously leafy growth sprouting around their ears. "Some vegetables are aliens," he observed very airily.

[thepurpleone]

Not looking completely convinced of the point and yet supposing he had to concede it, Donnie pursed his lips as he offered a nod. What was even 'alien' when you were out in space?

He peered past Tony at the proprietor, brows furrowing thoughtfully upon Tony's observation. "Fair," the turtle boy said, straightening up again and sidling slightly closer to the man, if only to be heard easier above the consistent thumping.

"Well anyway, don't let me interrupt your serious debate or anything. Oh, but if you have his ear, can you ask him who's playing right now? Or better yet, if I can have a copy of his music."

[in_extremis]

As much as Tony didn't want to be fighting over the music in the forge, getting the shopowner to give up his recording of Screaming Booming was a more straightforward debate than the opposites had been, and with a twirl of Tony's finger it was added to the pile of purchases that had to be packed in a motley assortment of old boxes. "I can't convince you to hire a courier for me, can I?" he wondered as he stacked them together and looked pessimistic about getting them back to the room he had secured for himself. The proprietor looked very bored of him.

[thepurpleone]

The music wasn't quite Donnie's tastes but that beat was almost mesmerizing, and he was certain that if he could slow the whole thing down, it might even be danceable.

Once there seemed to be some amount of space on the...counter? Donnie started to put some of his picks there, very determinedly keeping them apart from Tony's, very adamantly asserting that 'no, that one's mine, not his-' if it looked like any of the parts were going to be added to Tony's already admirable pile. It was quite a shift when he looked back to Tony, absolutely beaming.

"Isn't this place great?!"

[in_extremis]

That only earned a brief smile in return, a quirk that Tony rapidly polished away to look haughty and unimpressed again as he assessed Donnie's collection that he was so carefully accounting for. "Is that why you're committing to this indentured servitude?" he asked. "Risky move, assuming we're not stuck here forever and you're committed to that, I don't know, seven--oh, that's got to be worth something, didn't see that, eighteen years of working it off, then."

[thepurpleone]

Donnie leaned against the counter's edge as he waited for a total. He rested his chin over a knuckle as Tony made his own assessment of the pieces he'd picked out.

"If any of this ends up being that expensive then you may tell them I will acquire my wares elsewhere," he said, snorting lightly. "But if it's a reasonable total and I'm short then I'll just have them hold it until I can make up enough for the rest." He sounded fairly confident anyway, but he wasn't digging out his wallet until he got some numbers.

homegoods

[faceguy]

Now, Leo's dad never actually told him to avoid random adults smoking cigarettes and beckoning him to look at something. That's because his dad told Leo not to talk to humans at all, but he feels like there's a lot of extenuating circumstances to the Stranger Danger rulebook anyway, especially when he's trillions of miles away from home and quite possibly in a different time altogether.

So when Tony tells Leo to watch, he does... looking distinctly unimpressed at first, because a pan? Really?

But then something else happens - someone moves, and there's a swipe, and...

Leo's eye ridges to up in surprise. He doesn't draw eyebrows on like Donnie, but with his mask it's enough to get the expression across, anyway.

"Uh, what was that?"

[in_extremis]

It took Tony a beat to answer, eyes still narrowed at the crowd and tongue between his teeth like there might still be something to see, searching for another move to track. He had to admit, "I'm not sure." Which was only part of the problem. The person that had moved so strangely seemed perfectly normal then, arms a very rationally balanced length, and not appearing remarkably more or less engaged in the cookware demonstration than the people around them. "I saw her in a line for donuts, little while ago, did the same thing. One quick move, straight through a group. Then again, with a bunch of people waiting for an elevator. She didn't get any donuts. Probably not going to buy a pan, either." The natural conclusion felt obvious enough that Tony gave Leonardo a slow, sidelong look, eyebrow raised to make sure he had gotten there.

[faceguy]

Leo has gotten there. He nods along at Tony’s explanation, eyes wandering back to the person in the crowd. They’re doing a great job of not looking suspicious, but…

“Oooh, picking pockets, huh? Well I don’t have any pockets to be picked!”

So saying, he’s going to start making his way toward them. Yep, he’s involving himself in this.

[in_extremis]

The fourth mutant turtle that Tony met was not going to surprise him with how impulsive they were. It shouldn't have taken three. Tony had started to hiss, tipping his head to weigh against the obvious conclusion, that was what he had meant by 'not sure', but by then Leonardo was already walking away and Tony was left to straighten out of his lounge, staring after him. Even if they were sure, the next question was supposed to be if they were even supposed to do anything about it, but it looked like Leonardo had made that call for them.

The demonstration had concluded spectacularly with another pan battered wildly against the first, until it was dented and hardly recognizable and the remarkable opponent left unscratched and gleaming. The crowd had started to drift away, and like a tide, another was drawn into their place as the robot began its routine all over again. Their long-limbed curiosity remained in place, watching the window placidly.

[faceguy]

This is the Mad Dogs way: act first, ask questions never.

The long-limbed windowshopper is still as Leo draws closer, which is perfect for his brilliant plan.

Which consists entirely of bumping into them and saying, “Oops!”

[in_extremis]

A few feet away, Tony's own arms had gone slack as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, reprimanding himself for not seeing that incredibly intricate tactic coming. Now he couldn't wait around hoping that it really was just a case of mild pickpocketing that he had been witnessing, and he flicked away the cigarette to pull on his gloves and sunglasses and make his own approach.

Meanwhile, the target made a startled noise of her own, and turned wide, anxious eyes on the alien that had collided with her. She stared, up until there was a strange tug at the base of Leo's skull, then she was turning and crashing through the gathered people to flee.

tailor

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve had really been trying to haggle with the market to buy goods - not because he'd wanted any for himself, but he thought they might be useful to him later. He'd also thought that maybe he could stash away some things to give away as gifts back when they were planetside and he'd have very little else to work with.

As it turns out, only the children want to speak to him, and that's only because they'd found him wholly fascinating. Any parents, meanwhile, who saw them would quickly avert their eyes and walk their children away, giving Steve some dirty looks on the way regardless of how harmless he is.

His feelings are only slightly hurt, as clearly a person who adults find to look like some sort of bogeyman, and he's walking away from another bar he'd been stared out of when he runs into Tony.

Immediately, he brightens, and he's happy to see how much further Tony seems to have gotten here, him in his nicely-pressed suit, and looking like he might've gotten more than two hours of sleep. "Sharp, like always. What are you hosting?"

[in_extremis]

"Flatterer," Tony readily accused, not looking satisfied with anything less than sighs of disappointment. He crossed his arms, jaw set, already calculating who would be more eager to tell him what they really thought. That was his mistake, he had picked the one person who wouldn't jump at the chance to call him names. First, though, he had to manage this public appearance thing, and correct, "I'm not. I got this reporter to give me a spot on his show tonight, carpet bomb a message out to the cosmos and hope the Guardians or Silver Surfer or, I don't know, Laika picks up up, get us a ride out of here. Have you just been drinking again?" He flicked a hand back the way that Steve had come.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Oh, a message to the cosmos. Okay, that's very important. "Well, you look amazing." He practically beams at Tony, and is certainly not jealous that they seem to be rolling out the red carpet for him while they think Steve is beastly. "You know I wouldn't approach you again if I did drink anything. Tony, when's your interview?" he asks, patting him on the shoulder.

[in_extremis]

Maybe Tony's hair wasn't so bad, and the lighting hadn't been the most flattering. He took Steve's smile like jumper cables that lifted his chin and had him muttering, "I know," only for all of that pride to drop again in a raised eyebrow. He didn't need to be coddled, see, this was just one of the many reasons he shouldn't have told Steve--"Please, it's not like I'm going to take advantage of you. You didn't even notice last time." Maybe that wasn't exactly a joke, and Tony shouldn't draw any more attention to it, so he cleared his throat and tipped his head vaguely back into the vast station to answer, "Few hours yet. Plenty of time to get you a suit, prep you on some talking points. Not that you need them. You do your thing, you'll have the stars lit up like a beacon before the show's over."

[pursuitofcappiness]

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback. "No, no, Tony, they don't like me here," he says, honestly. They think he's some sort of abomination, at best. At worst, he's a monster. "Listen, I don't know what they think, but I can tell you that it won't be well-received if I go on."

As if on cue, another mother and her child come up to speak to Tony until they see Steve, and she guides the child away, covering their eyes.

"See?" He doesn't know why. But he would need a paper bag if he wanted to do this interview.

[in_extremis]

At first, the argument had Tony looking at him like he was spouting riddles, and Tony found the boundaries of them distasteful. It was unimaginable to Tony that a whole group of people just straightforward didn't like Steve, so this must have been some kind of game that he had stumbled into. It was only when that child was conspicuously diverted that Tony appeared to understand his words, and while pointing after that little display, went, "Huh." There was only one kind of person on Earth that would find Captain America so objectionable, and Tony was pretty sure he'd have seen some other signs if they had boarded some kind of Nazi station. "Curious." Now they did have a puzzle to solve, and this was the kind of game that had Tony's attention. "Maybe they saw you that day, on Temba. When you did that thing. They can see everything we do."

d - Late, but he brings coffee?

[beholding_archivist]

Jon may not be a mall lackeys, but he also has been using the local public transportation to reach various places across the station and as of now had no issues in doing so. That his first issue with it turns out to be a large group of increasingly impatient customers being denied that service is not quite what Jon expects. Just as he doesn't expect being unable to see the cause for this disruption.

"Does this happen often?" He asks a member of the crowd before taking a sip of what he is willing to consider coffee. A beverage a random alien with two heads on two incredibly long necks had insisted on purchasing for him.

The being he just adressed turns a disgruntled face down at Jon only to have that same expression drain away from his features and do his best to get a little distance between himself and the much smaller human without being obvious about it. "N-New owner." The alien answers and steps away further before quickly turning and marching away. "I think I'll walk!"

While Jon is left mildly confused as he looks after the departing being, a few more of the gathered individuals turn around to wonder about the fleeing person before taking note of Jon and his coffee. A few more faces drained of their respective colors as a few more people opt in for a tactical retreat. "Walking sounds fine. G-great idea!" And while not everyone leaves, the crowd slowly thins out enough to allow Jon to step up to the front and get a look at what's actually going on.

"Tony?!" He calls out at the man he easily recognizes right away. "What are you doing?"

[in_extremis]

The angry questions and demands from behind glass were becoming familiar background noise while Tony taught himself these engines, so he almost ignored another up until he processed the voice. He froze in his stalking back into the garage, and slowly turned back toward the suddenly significantly smaller crowd. That they had abruptly cleared out was almost as weird as the fact that they had left Jon behind, front and centre like he was there to get himself a ticket, and Tony found he couldn't manage either of those questions in a timely manner before he had to answer, "Fixing a problem." He heard the smile in his voice before he realized what his face was doing, and had to rapidly school it, pulling his sunglasses down from where they had tangled in his hair with a yank. "You need a ride?"

[beholding_archivist]

"Problem?" Jon hears himself asking before raising a somewhat disappointed brow at Tony deciding to hide his eyes. He glances over to the cart Tony is working on. "These worked fine this morning."

And they did. Jon has used the transport system to get here in the first place.

[in_extremis]

Things changed, like the number of people interested in heckling Tony over his decisions. As he carefully swept closer to the window, doing his best to look very casual as he tried to spot where they were hiding, and if they had somehow condensed like a star into the singularly powerful Jon. It was an effective tactic, because he was the only one Tony was opening the door for, and gesturing for him to step through quickly so Tony could lock it again behind him before they sprung a leak. "Fine is fine," Tony said, sounding like it wasn't. "But that's no reason to settle for spilling your coffee during your commute. Easy fix. Everyone's day is better."

[beholding_archivist]

Jon accepts the unspoken invitation and steps through the gate once it's unlocked for him exclusively. Those people that decided to leave didn't seem like their day has been made any better.

"How long have you been working on this?" Jon asks with a frown. "There were a lot of people waiting out there..." And maybe, just maybe, Jon could try and check on a few of these people to learn how long they had been waiting there.

[in_extremis]

"A few hours..." Tony had to admit, which suddenly seemed like an incredibly long time to be wasting, both for the people who thought they had a direct route and for someone who was supposed to be fixing a much bigger ship. If it was taking him this long to correct some poor balance in a few shuttles, maybe he wasn't equipped for the task anyway. With much less confidence, he still tried to excuse, "It started going faster once I figured out how they worked." If any of the mechanics had stuck around, the whole process would have been smoother. Rerouting would probably bring him to a better defensive position, and he managed to set his shoulders again to ask, "Why, did you find something?" That would explain why Jon had finally sought him out, and the ceaseless twirling of the cog around his finger suddenly and conspicuously stopped. The glasses didn't always hide everything.