revivalproject | [ video ]

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[ Unlike the last time Jon has appeared on this network, this time it's very intentional. And it's very obvious that it is intentional. Apparently he has found himself a usable desk (presumably in the hospital) and has taken the time to prop up his phone appropriately to address his fellow involuntary inhabitants of this lovely place.

It's also rather obvious that he has been using this desk for a few days now at least. There is a comparably neat stack of paper in front of him, two or three notebooks, an assortment of pens, two different types of tape recorders along with some tapes and an empty mug all rather present and no, he doesn't really care about the slight mess. He himself looks a little messy himself, though that's just his normal state of being perpetually tired. But... There are more important things right now, right? Like... How to even start. ]

Uhh... Good evening.

[ That's just remotely awkward. But okay. ]

I have- I mean. I already spoke to a few of you. Either through this network or at an actual encounter in person and... I suppose you might have noticed me at that little welcome home party the Agrii have set up, but... Let's not talk about that. That was... Dreadful.

[ He pauses a moment to sort his thoughts, then goes on. ]

To those I haven't met yet: Hello. I'm Jonathan Sims and I have agreed to help with the hospital.

[ Here he makes a short gesture with one hand to indicate his surroundings. He is indeed at the hospital. Maybe that's your clue to avoid needing medical help anytime soon?

He drops that hand back down. ]

Further, I have decided to take on the task of turning what is left of what appears to have been a library once back into an actual library. To be more precise: I plan to make recordings along with written pieces and store them there once the place is cleaned up. These may serve for our own reference, but also for the Agrii if they are so inclined. My hope is that by teaching them about ourselves, our worlds and our language, we can achieve a more successful way of communicating with them. Learn to understand what they want and need and- You get the idea.

Now what I need is to find a suitable format to record on. While I work with magnetic tapes a lot myself for certain reasons, I am not unfamiliar with digital recordings. Also I am well aware that some of you come from worlds that are technically far more advanced than my Earth happens to be, so I... I would be interested to know if there are more practical formats available. Preferably ones that allow for video as well as audio recordings and don't necessarily require additional hardware for playback. Your universe's version of the data points to be found across this city, for example, just possibly without that direct access to a person's mind. Given that we may soon have access to a functioning replicator... It should be possible.

[ He lets that hang there, then takes a moment to try and think what else he might have to add. He ends up with a short shrug and half a sigh. ]

I guess that's it. If you have a suggestion you believe might work, I would very much like to hear it. And before you ask: Yes, I am planning to keep a purely digital library along with a physically accessible one.

Thank you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That was a well telegraphed disaster in the making, and Tony cautiously got to his feet as Jon hauled at his shelf until Newton caught up to him. Maybe the petite librarian wasn't the best on-site member of the All New Damage Control. Tony was ready with a steadying hand between his shoulders. "Tommy might know more, the fast kid with the white out situation," Tony illustrated, gesturing to his hair, "they were close. But, it's kind of..." Sensitive would be Tony generally described Tommy, which made him not optimistic about either he or Jon trying to quiz the kid on Vizh's experiences on the planet. Tony waved it away, that could be the backup plan, and took the cracked board from Jon. "Best case scenario, we figure out what causes the reaction, and we have a safehouse by the time the next one hits. Worst case, I know how to put a tin man back together. Why don't you go do whatever it was you were planning? I got this, boss. You got that tape on you?" There might be some salvageable information, especially if Jon already had some experience with distortions he was 'used to'.

Wait--half the work was already done for Tony? "The what now? What factories?" If Tony didn't have to build his garage from scratch, he could be assembling data points and doing a full Exo preventative diagnostic in no time.

Jon doesn't comment on the hand between his shoulders. He can see how this may well have ended with him on the ground and the end of a shelf in his face. Though he does glare a little at having the piece of wood taken from his hold. Though he bites back that protest at the mention of the mutant. Pulling up a brow Jon cranes his head to look up and over his shoulder at Tony.

"Tommy? The mutant that reduces himself to his powers and acts as if he's been sentenced to a terrible fate when temporarily reduced to the level of a common human? Yes, I met that one." It wasn't a very pleasant conversation. Especially with how it had left Jon craving the younger man's terrible story. Refusing that knowledge had been painful and Jon had spent the better part of the remaining night aimlessly wandering the city to make sure the meeting and that harrowing music has ended by the time he found his way back to the hospital.

Despite trying to set those thoughts aside, Jon can't entirely help a little snarl "He's difficult to talk to. I suggest we don't try pursuing that one. As for the factories-" He pulls out his phone and opens up the map, pointing at the South-Eastern part of the city "Over there. Near the mine entrance."

He doesn't react to the request for the tape, however. Or about being sent away from the actually necessary work. Neither suggestion is one Jon feels particularly fond of.

Clearly, Tommy lived up to his chosen name and wasn't dawdling on making a strong impression on the community. Being on the defense in the mutant debate was hard enough when a guy had the full context, so Tony gave Jon a champion's pat for braving it, whether he wanted to or not, and nodded with a wry smile. Yeah, that sounded like the right Tommy, they'd keep that one in their back pocket.

The area Jon showed him wasn't one Tony had even thought about yet, and he had clearly been missing out while scrounging around the centre of town. Even if it was a more ideal workplace for Tony, it didn't make this mess any less dealt with, so there was no reason to rush off-- and there was no telling if there were any data point fragments down there to play with. "Have you been down there?" he asked as he reached back into the rubble to haul out another part of that shelf Jon had been working on. "It's worth looking into. We'll need the fire. The tapes, Jonny, come on." No need to get distracted, they were solving a problem here. "What did the storm do to you? Where did it start?"

"I was down there once before." At the factories, that is "But it was late at night by that time and pitch dark. I thought that maybe I could still find something, but... In the end I got lost in the darkness and had to wait for dawn.I was planning to go back, but haven't had the time yet." It's as simple as that.

Stubbornly refusing not to at least do what he can to help cleaning up, Jon settles with gathering up what smaller pieces of debris aren't lodged into the pile in any way. Picking up a slab of rock that poses to be the most he deems himself capable of lifting, the Archivist sends Tony a scowl "And you're not getting that tape. I can play back the part in question for you, but you are not. Getting. The tape." And that's a point he will not discuss. This is after all the tape that had been in his recorder when he arrived. A tape he has used to record a statement before being pulled here. There are thoughts on that tape he would rather avoid to be heard by anyone. Especially anyone around here.

"And I can't tell you where or when the storm began. It was already going when I arrived here and I went inside because... Well. That doesn't matter. I thought I might be able to see something, but- Nothing." He drops his piece of rock with a frustrated noise, then looks over to the other man "But why don't you tell me something, for a change. For instance, how do you know Tommy? And what is it with him? What's his issue?"

Jon may not be trying to compel Tony with these questions, but he is getting a little irritated with having to deliver answers the entire time.

The defensiveness about the tape was weird enough that Tony stopped what he was doing to stare Jon down with a raised lip, eyebrow raised with a question that could only be what the fuck?. Did Jon think he was going to take it home and get it pregnant? He gestured for that rock Jon was playing with to transfer it into Tony's collection bin, if he didn't mind picking it up again.

"I don't want the tape, I don't expect you to be a meteorologist or something-- I meant where did it start with you," he tried to explain, then took a deep breath. Clearly, everyone was a little sensitive, not just Tommy. Tony took a beat, hands on his hips, feeling very aware of the dust all the way up to his armpits already and wondering if he really appreciated that last shower he enjoyed on Risa. "He's from-- kind of-- I know a Tommy, where I'm from. He and his brother think they're from my future, which is..." Tony sighed, hands up in surrender to that existential horror, before dropping them listlessly back to his hips. "He's been through a lot for his age. And the mutant thing, it's touchy for any of them, but he's...Here's the thing, I don't know how mutants are treated where you're from, but most people on our planet are at least a little bit mutant-phobic, scaling all the way up to whole governments outright putting them to death. And it's easy to convince people that this is right at this point because now there's no resources, and imagine puberty hitting you like a train, only now you also shoot fireballs out of your mouth every time you're sad. These kids get these abilities that no one prepares them for all of a sudden, and it's caused a lot of pain. Parents abandon their kids. Let the government try to torture it out of them."

That part wasn't really Tony's story to tell, but it really did highlight exactly what live wire Jon was playing with when he jumped into an argument about it. It wasn't just about losing extraordinary powers. "Now, all of that's already going on with you, imagine that your grandfather is, like...I don't know how similar we are now, Andreas Baader? Have you got that one, RAF? Like an extremist for his cause, blowing shit up in the name of mutant rights, the poster boy for the governor to point to and show everyone just how bad these mutants are. And then your mom just wipes them all out. No more mutants." Tony's next breath was shakier than he thought it would be, and he forgot about the dust, scrubbing a grimy fist over his mouth to cover it like he just meant to scratch his beard as he stared intently at the pile of rubble. No one talked about Wanda at the Tower, and Tony was starting to realize he didn't have the proper defenses prepared for her to start coming up so much, and especially not to explain it.

The Archivist meets Tony's stare with an unimpressed glare of his own, but relents about as much as to follow the wordless request to pick up the stone again to move it where it is supposed to be going. Though he stops in his tracks when Tony gets to speak of Tommy - And mutants.

It's a lot, despite barely scratching on the surface. And Jon can only wonder what sort of terror and fear the more personal stories involved in this mess may entail. And he wants to hear them. Every single one of them in all their gruesome details. Even for this brief overview Tony gives, Jon already mentally sorts events to the Entities. The Stranger, the Desolation, the Hunt, the End, the Lonely, the Eye, the Slaughter, even the Web... And he doesn't doubt the others represent as well. It's all Jon can do to cling to the piece of rubble in his arms to not shudder with ill-placed excitement.

These are stories he will never get to experience.

When Tony stops talking, Jon remains standing still for a few moments longer as he unwinds his thoughts from those vague, terribly tempting images. And he exhales audibly.

"That's... a lot" Is what he says at last, then finally makes the rest of the way to the bin to leave the rock where it belongs. He doesn't turn to face Tony.

"We don't have mutants on Earth. I- I think they feature in comic books? Superheroes? But I never got into those. But outside of fiction, they don't exist. We only get monsters. And those aren't born, they are made - Or chose their... Becoming." That's the term Elias had used. Shrugging once, Jon finally turns, determined to keep his eyes anywhere but on the other man "Maybe we could use some mutant superheroes to deal with the monsters. But most people aren't even aware of their existence. And if monsters aren't hunting humans, they hunt one another." No. He wouldn't mind some actual heroes to save the world.

Sighing, Jon steps up to the pile of debris and finds himself another piece of rock "And I believe I already answered your question about me and the storm: I walked into it because I was curious. I wanted to see and understand and- It was a foolish idea." He doesn't bring the tape up again.

Tony's Earth had monsters, too-- oh boy, did it have monsters-- but it was rarely as simple as a mindless beast on the hunt. Even at their most extreme, if Galactus was hurtling toward the planet and already salivating, Galactus had no concept of what was good or evil on Earth. That was like expecting Tony to be aware of the evils committed to a grape. This had Tony quiet for once, unable to confidently comment on the state of Jon's world, and dragging debris into place thoughtfully. It was possible, without superheros to help shift cultural expectations, a society could be stuck in an evolutionary dark ages. Mutants were still outsiders, even while people like Captain America were celebrated, nevermind more complex situations like Morbius.

"You're not most people. That's what you meant by supernatural," Tony deduced. "You think these storms could be one of your monsters? It's hunting?" That was almost a preferable theory-- that could mean they were dealing with a consciousness here. Maybe in this context, Tony could finally phrase what he had been trying to ask Jon in a way that he understood.

"That's what I had thought." Jon nods, but rather than leaving it at that, he goes on, eyes set on another rock in the pile of rubble, but not entirely focused.

"I believed me to having been kidnapped again by one of the other avatars. The Spiral seemed the most likely candidate. Helen deciding she doesn't feel like helping us any longer after she she's had her fun or I don't know. Kidnap the Archivist, make fun of him, leave him another scar - It certainly felt like the usual game. I met Cal and heard of the ongoing storm and it all just seemed to fit together. So I went to look at it and that would have been it. Christ... I saw through the Unknowing. I found my way out of the Buried! I-" Jon pauses briefly, gritting his teeth. "I was certain!"

Another moment of silence passes and Jon visibly deflates "I walked in. Just like that. And I couldn't see. For all the confidence I believed to have in myself for once, I felt blinded in a way that was nothing if not utterly disturbing and exhausting and... I was scared. Of course I tried recording, but those recordings are useless. Eventually the storm settled and I found my way back to the city, found the only place I was familiar with and just... Sat down."

And that's where Jon stops and takes a few centering breaths. It's more than he has intended to say, but it has been a while since he vented properly and it has yet to sink in just how many information he has just thrown at Tony.

There were some details there that clearly were well beyond Tony's pay grade-- The Spiral, The Unknowing, The Buried, if Tony had any grounded hypothesis it would be an organization like the Hand making legends out of assassins, but he didn't miss the eldritch undertones. Maybe Jon had a whole Galactus family that he was dealing with, and Tony could feel the pressure at the base of his skull starting to pound at the idea that what they were dealing with here might be just one of them. People like him and Tommy and Steve weren't equipped to handle threats like that, not alone.

That wasn't the only language Jon used that got Tony thinking, though. The hall was quiet but for Jon's careful breathing for a beat, while Tony stopped his work and watched, arms crossed in contemplation until he echoed, "Other avatars." There was his Hulk.

Jon looks over at Tony at last, his face perplexed and his voice soft, almost a little worn "What?"

Then a moment past and realization has the surrounding world seem to fall away like the cheap cardboard background of an even cheaper theater play, leaving the Archivist staring open-mouthed for several moments while white hot dread slowly pours into his very being.

As he stares, Jon picks up the familiar whirring noise from not far behind himself. And as he turns towards it, he spots the tape recorder sitting innocently on the rock he has just set down, recording away. It's not his recorder. It's a different model made of bright red plastic. Oh, he's used to them, alright. But does it have to be now?

Well. Of course it has.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Jon snarls, more angry with himself than anything and yet he grabs the recorder and smashes it to the floor. Or... That is the idea, at least. Jon does indeed throw the little device down, but it does anything but shatter. In fact, the recorder simply bounces a little bit once and slips a short distance over the floor before simply remaining there, still recording away. And Jon glares at it. Mostly so he doesn't have to look at Tony.

"Can we... Forget... I said anything?" He finally suggests, the words not directed at anyone or anything.

It was out there now, it was up to Jon to explain himself and Tony could wait while he went through his private crisis, because if Jon knew something about how these storms might function it wasn't doing either of them any favours to keep it to himself. When he turned, though, and revealed the tape recorder that had appeared over his shoulder, Tony's expression turned quickly from bland patience to bafflement, eyebrows raised and lips parted without a good question for this particular reveal formed, just a fangy displeasure with it. He had seen some bad mutations and magic powers in his life, but producing? calling? outdated technology had to be among the worst. How specific.

Jon seemed to agree, which took Tony by surprise enough that he jumped when Jon attempted to end the thing, but it must have been sturdier than it looked. The throw wasn't that bad, and even dropping one of those things should have been enough to at least stop it working. "Uh, definitely not," Tony replied immediately, not after that display. "Is this you, or some other voyeur in your life?" If this was a symptom of the games he had mentioned, Tony wasn't up for seeing first hand how Jon got any of his scars and would prefer to be brought on board quickly to help avoid the situation.

"I believe they are connected to me somehow." Jon admits with a begrudging groan "We haven't fully figured them out, but they seem to appear when something worth recording is about to happen. And apparently none of them spawned while I was in a coma for six months." That explanation given, he steps forward and picks up the recorder again, only to turn it off and remove the tape inside "The fact that they appear here, keeps bothering me."

But it does add further evidence to the theory of them being spawned by him.

The Archivist's posture tenses and he snarls a little as his attention settles on Tony "But fine. I am the avatar of one of fourteen dread entities. And calling it a voyeur actually... Is fairly accurate." He narrows his eyes at the other man "So go ahead. Call me a monster. Because that's what I am."

That evidence seemed pretty damning to Tony, but he wasn't an expert on spontaneous anachronistic construct generation and he wasn't about to be the one to dissuade Jon of the tenuous belief that maybe this tape recorder thing and him was coincidental. Tony would want to hang onto that, too. All of that aggression Jon had tried to take out on the recorder suddenly turning on Tony didn't come as a shock, because he clearly had been exploring some dangerous territory, but Tony did expect more denial and firewalls and not this accusation.

"That's your word, Jonny Rotten. You know, for a guy who's all about record keeping, you're really bad at listening," he pointed out. Maybe concepts like 'fourteen dread entities' should have been enough to make Tony hesitate before testing his boundaries, but Tony wasn't often accused of recognizing the limits. "I would go with something like 'ornery', maybe 'fastidious', 'no obvious evidence of a sense of humour thus far but that might just be a moving target'. I would say you really need a massage, but I don't know if that's enough to do the trick and I'm a little afraid of what kind of IBM 700 series beast will appear to process what might fall out of your mouth if you get too close to relaxation. This little secret is a done deal, though, it's shipped, it's publicly traded, so let's not fuck around thinking we're still in R&D. If you think that storm could be anything like whatever you are, what do we have to do to keep it out? You've dealt with them before. What are they looking for?"

"First: Stop calling me names. Second: I am relaxed." Well, obviously he isn't, but that's not the point. The point is that Jon will stubbornly resist any attempts to get him to relax. He hasn't been going grey before even turning thirty for no reasons at all.

"And I believe I already made it clear that I don't believe these storms are related to the Fears. They may cause some variant of dread or another, but it's... It's something else entirely." Otherwise he is pretty sure something would already have tried to kill him. But none of that happened. And there certainly are further instances of the supernatural than the one Jon is most familiar with these days.

Sure, Jon. Tony pursed his lips, clearly in disbelief that he even understood the concept of chilling out, but there was a real weight of the world situation going on with him that didn't make it onto Tony's list of Jon's dazzling qualities, that Tony personally knew better than to push him on. Maybe it would be on the list some other day, when Jon didn't look so much like he might crack a tooth, if that was possible.

Most things that Jon had said about fear, dread or monsters hadn't been clear yet, up to and including what he thought about the storms, and Tony wasn't sure how easy it was going to be to clear that cultural hurdle. They weren't going to do it if Jon kept on playing defense. Tony stretched his shoulders back, trying to pull the tension out of the room as he did, and scrubbed his hands on the front of his shirt as he approached Jon slowly, so they were at least clean when he gestured for Jon to be cool and hold out his. Tony took his wrist to liberate him of the offending tape recorder, sliding it daintily from his fist before he crushed it and hurt himself or something. "So what are you?" Tony asked, clearly not interested in the lore or the titles Jon thought they should be giving him. "What are you supposed to see?"

To his credit, Jon doesn't back away when Tony approaches him. But that may just be him being stubborn. Just as he stubbornly locks his eyes on Tony's almost as if to dare him to try anything funny. The Archivist also makes no move to stop the other man when Tony took hold of his wrist and almost gently pulls the recorder from his hand. He doesn't need that one. Christ, for all he knows, there is already a new one sitting under this pile of debris, faithfully recording away.

Though despite his stubborn display, there is a slight twitch at the corner of his lip when the first question is being asked. And he ever so slightly narrows his eyes at the second. Just why does this man keep on asking.

"Fear." Jon answers plainly, deciding to take the risk against better judgement. But that, also, is just what he is. His tone drops notably when he goes on, almost as if trying to bury itself within the words he speaks.

"I see fear. Fear, and the truth. I am the avatar of the Ceaseless Watcher. Beholding. The Eye. The manifestation of the fear of being followed, exposed, watched, judged... Of having your darkest secrets known. The drive to know and understand. The fear that you are suffering for the sole sake of someone watching. That is what I am."

The words simply hang there for a moment before Jon finally exhales and a decent part of all that stubborn tension in him seems to seep away.

If he didn't get anything else out of Jon for asking, it seemed like Tony would have been satisfied with that exhale, his shoulders dropping to mirror Jon's as he gave another appreciative pat to Jon's arm. That wasn't so hard, was it? Jon was clearly struggling with shame and a very private kind of horror for his own, personal existence, but Tony responded to that tone with a mild, "We've got one of those." 'We' as in Tony's dimension, and while Jon's language made it seem like his situation was more chthonic than cosmic, that was really a question of which was the snake's head and which was the tail. The pertinent details was strikingly familiar. Tony turned enough to chuck the tape recorder into the scrap pile with the rest of the metal garbage and continued, "We just call him The Watcher. Them, I don't know. They show up whenever something big happens-- an important event in the greater story of the universe, to be the witness. Fear is usually involved, it's always a war or an assassination or the opening of some Pandora's box, you know-- a flashpoint, an evolution." Tony didn't think this was helpful information at all, but Jon had earned a break from talking. "Most people find that terrifying. Change. The future. Something you can't know, not for sure, not even the Watchers." He licked his lips between his teeth and raised his eyebrows with a question that he couldn't quite articulate, a vague inquiry into Jon's general state of affairs, before adding, "So, you're a real pervert, huh?"

Jon's attention is drawn to where Tony has patted his arm and he regards the spot that has received the wordlessly sympathetic gesture as he listens to the brief introduction to The Watcher. And he can see the parallels - And the differences. The Eye is but one aspect of fear. One of fourteen entities of fear.

Tony's Watcher seems to encompass them all. Maybe even more than that. Maybe serving more as a neutral party truly dedicated to little more than observing, witnessing. The role doesn't sound too different from his own, for the most part lacking the tie to an evil dread god bend on changing the Earth to its liking and allow it to fully manifest in reality. So... No. Maybe it's not the most useful information, but to Jon at least it's not uninteresting.

Being called a pervert, however, brings a twitch to his eye and he casts a daring glare up at the other man,deciding that very moment that he won't tell him that the recorder might just vanish any moment.

"Please be aware that I can force you to tell me your darkest or most embarrassing secrets. And I make it a habit to record these as well. If I wanted to, I could simply know which movies made you cry and how often you disappointed your parents. So I ask that you don't call me a pervert - Or force me to do either. Believe me that it wouldn't be fun for either of us." The last bit may be a little exaggerated. But Jon is reluctant to make it known that being compelled is a pleasant experience. Which does make sense in a way. All of Jon's victims were very willing to share what he asked of them after all. Yes, he can forcefully extract knowledge as well, but for the most part he rather makes people want to do something.

But making it sound unpleasant feels safer to him.

That was supposed to be the kind of joke that Tony knew would get Jon talking again, and while he knew well enough by now to expect this energy in return, he found himself chuckling at how exactly Jon thought he was defending his honour here. They really were from very different worlds, that would have been obvious even if they had been born on the same ground, and Tony raised his eyebrows in adoration at what he could only describe as a reluctant threat from a very eccentric man. To share his laugh, Tony asked in a stage whisper, "Do you think that makes you sound like less of a pervert?"

The threat might have carried more weight if Jon had left it at 'darkest or most embarrassing', because emotionally damaging secrets was just one of the many things Tony was rich in, but movies that made him cry and exactly how disappointing he was, to anyone, never mind his dad, weren't the kind of things he could keep under his mattress under normal circumstances. It would take some real work to get Tony anxious over a unique shame; he didn't have a lot. "Come on," he encouraged, sweeping back around to their physical job, "we'll make you a dirty movie later." They had been trying to accomplish something here, after all. "Do you not feel fear often yourself then, is that what the storm did to you?"

The Archivist visibly flinches at the first comment, sputtering something incoherent and taking a step back. The second comment leaves him flustered and while he's glad that Tony already turned away, Jon makes sure to look elsewhere himself "Christ, you are dreadful! Could you just stop that?!"

His new perspective lets him notice that the tape recorder has vanished, and he makes it a point to get himself very invested in a new piece of stone, huffing slightly at the latest question "And that is none of your business."

The best response that Tony had to that rebuke was that he was making it his business, and while Jon had come around and admitted to his far more personal Fear thing, he seemed to be weirdly resistant to helping Tony figure out what power the storm had over him. Maybe when Tony had his own experience with the effects he would be more welcomed into that club, but he had been kind of hoping he could help all of them avoid it altogether the next time a storm rolled through town. He was the new kid, he was getting the message loud and clear now, he was trying to put in the menial labour that was expected of him here and obviously he had a few piles of rubble to climb before the fraternity really opened their doors.

He crouched at the edge of this pile, sweeping aside some smaller pebbles of poured stone where the small dent they had made revealed a few crafted pieces that had sifted to the bottom of the pile, hardware of some kind that could have been part of anything from a security system in the stacks, or the data points. It was a good find, either way, and while Tony carefully collected them, he asked, "Why does that get you so worked up? D'you ever fix your camera?" He wasn't going to quickly forget what had set Jon off the first time they had talked, but Tony realized he hadn't really noticed if the crack was still there when he had messaged today. It seemed to suit Jon.

"I apologize, but not everyone appreciates being called a pervert." The Archivist grumbles while pulling some smaller pieces of wood from the pile, pointedly not looking over to Tony. No, he didn't connect the question to his reaction towards being asked about the storm again. This is, in fact, a little less prominent to him than the teasing.

He tosses the wood in the wood-corner and proceeds to pull a piece of stone free that obviously he won't be able to pick up. But he can stubbornly push it across the floor, which he fully intends to do. Just watch him!

Though being asked about the camera at least earns Tony a brief pause in Jon's adamant irritation "What- I... I used the back camera." Which may seem more complicated than just accepting a crack going across your screen, but when, precisely, isn't Jon prone to make things complicated?

It really wasn't meant to have been a storm question, for once, so Tony didn't have a particularly good rebuttal; lighten up, Tony was just playing with him, was not going to have a transformative effect on Jon's personality. If it did, Tony knew it would be Mr. Hyde he was dealing with, anyway. The scrape of the stone across the ground had Tony turning to see what he was struggling with now, and, to his credit, didn't completely laugh out loud in exasperation at Jon's insistence when he'd had a perfectly reasonable invitation to get back to his pencil pushing, but Tony did drop from where he sat on his heels onto his butt to watch the production from the floor, elbows propped on his knees to pass his treasures through his fingers idly like poker chips.

The back camera might have explained the unmarred image, but it said a lot more about the lengths Jon might go to to control the image he presented, because that was a goofy way to have a conversation just to look a little normal and Tony did snort at that visual. At least that revelation made his resistance to Tony's teasing seem less the result of some sexual trauma, but it could still very well be some kind of homophobic panic. Jon really needed someone to show him how to be more malleable if he wanted to sell a convincing story to the public. "Good, I'm glad that's all, because I've been meaning to tell you, you really fill out those pants well. What's your squat routine like?" Tony tested, his steely stare not quite matching with his blandly innocent smile.

Jon plain freezes in places at those words, his rock only about a meter where he has been meaning to push it. He blinks twice, still pretty much frozen, the heat of embarrassment easily turning his face red as he turns his head to locate Tony and cast him a flustered glare of disbelief.

"What are- Where-- W-would you-!"

It's somewhere among that stuttering that he realizes that he's still VERY MUCH presenting himself to be mocked. Jon pushes himself up faster than necessary and staggers backwards a few steps, face red and eyes wide and WHAT has he done to deserve this?!

"S-Stop making fun of me!" Jon manages to protest, not quite managing to glare, but giving it a valid try.

Jon couldn't even begin to play it off-- Tony fully expected to catch that breakdown on his face, but Jon really lacked the skill for any improvisation. Either he never socialized at all, or he was so rigidly in control of all of his social interactions that no one was allowed to take him by surprise. It was much harder to believe that no one on his planet had ever flirted with Jon. Tony put his free hand up in defense, insisting, "I wasn't making fun of you," which wasn't strictly true but he was the one that chose to struggle with a rock and put his own workout regimen on blast. The flirting wasn't supposed to be anything but flattering, and that Jon went straight for 'making fun' must have been from lived experience. "Did you get bullied a lot in school or something?" Tony surmised.

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The true reason for the camera is OOC-fail. I forgot about it \o/ And thus we have a new quirk.

he didn't have enough anyway, very normal

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I don't know if this is how it works

And yet you nailed it~

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Belated edit because I just saw this opportunity and I'm not above taking it.

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i didn't mean to do THAT

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