revivalproject | Surprise! It's Spring

Entry tags:

Surprise! It's Spring

WHO: Everyone?
WHERE: Sudden-Magic-Cherry Blossom Grove/Carnival
WHAT: Spring Merriment
WHEN: End of April
WARNINGS: TBD

[Video]

[There's a video message to greet everyone when they awake. A somewhat tired looking Billy offers a smile and a small wave. He seems to be inside of the caves at the moment, his powers are amplified there.]

Hey, I uh...I kind of arranged something for you guys. If anyone wants to, obviously, um...but I always did this kind of stuff with my parents around this time of year, and I thought it would be fun? I dunno. Check it out. If I missed anything let me know.

It's a bit of a vague message, but there's helpful signage to point any one looking for what he might be talking about, and once they come across it, it's rather hard to miss.

A large clearing has been transformed to a beautiful cherry blossom grove, all in full bloom, petals floating through the air. Feel free to take a stroll, or maybe have yourself a picnic? Billy's helpfully provided a little picnic station near the front with baskets and all sorts of prepared sandwiches, snacks and juice boxes; pack yourself a basket and grab a provided blanket and make an afternoon of it.

Or maybe, if you venture a little further, you'll hear music luring you away to a small carnival not too far from the blossoms. There's booths with games, and prizes including the usual stuffed animals, but also a good deal of Avengers themed toys, like Cap shield frisbees, and inflatable Thor's hammers.

While there's no attendants working anything, it all seems to run itself through magic. There's a teacup ride, a merry go round, and even a small ferris wheel, that's quite the sight all lit up as evening falls. There's a small selection of typical food available, cotton candy, various fried foods and the like, and once it's dark enough, there's even a small fireworks show.

Enjoy yourselves.

[OOC: The carnival and most of the trees will disappear the following day, but any prizes won will remain.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The dirty looks can well still happen, but for now Jon is very fine with just sharing a piece of amusement he had no qualms getting behind himself. And the laugh was a welcome change from the usually a little cruel smirk Tony likes to cast his way. It's that same vein that has him refrain from requesting of Tony to drop the nickname in this very instance. The fact that Tony still even bothers with them at least makes it feel as if he still cares enough to try and get a reaction out of the Archivist.

He can have that reaction later. Maybe over some silly carnival games Jon already knows himself to be terrible at.

"Jurgen Leitner." Jon gives the full name and takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes shifting over to the little bumper cars "I have cursed the man since I was a child. Convinced he is responsible for all the evil in the world. And in the end... He was nothing but a librarian and a fool, believing he could collect and trap all those books filled with sinister magic." A little sigh escapes the Archivist and he turns his eyes back to Tony "He was the first to tell me about the fears. That the place I work for is nothing more than a temple built for one of them. That every employee of the Magnus Institute unknowingly serves and feeds an evil god bend on reshaping the world to its liking. He told me that I belong to the Eye - That's when I needed some air. And a smoke."

There is another pause and again Jon's eyes shift away, this time to the cigarette between his fingers "When I returned, he was lying on my desk. His head bludgeoned to a pulp with a pipe and blood dripping everywhere. It only kept getting worse from there. Wanted by the police for murder, chased by monsters that wanted me dead, my boss kindly informing us all that our lives are tied to the Institute and expecting of me to figure out on my own what it means to be The Archivist in whatever this... Competition among the Fears is even meant to be. Being worried about what a cigarette might do to my lungs very easily became the least of my problems."

He knows it's a lot, and Jon is giving Tony the time the man may need to process all these information while Jon's eyes are back on the man. Of course there is a certain risk with laying these things out in the open, but Tony already knows what he is and hasn't called for a hunt on his head and Jon will give him that credit. It also would be nice to be able to trust someone again. To some degree.

There hadn't been any manipulation, stealing or lying to get any of that information out of Jon, he just offered it freely-- not just the answer to the question Tony had only suggested, but a whole web of context that had Tony not quite meeting his eye when Jon had gotten it off his chest. For a moment, he stared at the scar on Jon's neck, uniquely grizzly, not the kind of wound that usually had the chance to scar over and then casually suggest it was either inflicted by evil god monsters controlling your entire life, or a desperate attempt to escape them. It was the kind of story that usually had Tony offering a room at the Mansion. It clearly wasn't offered to elicit some kind of sympathy from Tony, but he didn't know where else to put the information, more of it was relatable than all of the magic elements suggested it should have been; on the run for a murder he didn't commit, hunted by a single-minded monster, fighting for control over his own life from an entity that saw him as a tool of destruction. Avenger stuff. So when Tony did finally move it was to curiously brush that scar with the back of his hand, then squeeze Jon's shoulder. He had reduced his own struggle to 'a girl didn't like me', his emotional communication was better off non-verbal.

"Did you figure it out?" he asked, knowing this story did not have a happy end from the state of Jon. But if where he had left his life back home could say anything about why he was here on this planet, now seemed like a good time to get him to talk about it.

Jon doesn't move away from the light touch to his neck and his eyes rest on that hand for a few quiet moments as it sits on his shoulder. A silent, reassuring weight. Not necessarily a gesture he would have expected from Tony, that much Jon will admit to himself.

The man's question pulls Jon's eyes back upward again and he gives a one-sided shrug.

"I'm not sure. But I- I feel I am still missing something. At the same time I feel like I am running out of time. I already lost two of my assistants to the Stranger - The fear of the unknown. One willingly blinded herself to escape the Institute and the other is slowly drifting away into the Lonely and... Despite everything I'm not sure if I will be strong enough to get him out of there should that happen. Getting out of the Buried was- Luck? I think? Christ, I was in that dreadful casket for three weeks. Unable to move or breathe and when I tried to feel my rib- It's... It's terrifying to learn that you have willingly crawled off into a place that only exists outside of reality. Being physically dead for half a year didn't feel half as long. At least I had the nightmares..."

It's a lot, and Jon is well aware of that. Especially as it's a lot he hasn't had a chance to talk about to anyone really. If anything, he has been feeling lonely even before being pulled here. He sighs heavily.

"I... I feel that I'm important somehow. That The Archivist is important to the Eye and it... It needs me. Somehow. But no one tells me anything. Like everyone but me received the script for this play and I am the only one wandering around clueless, merely avoiding to get killed by monsters, other avatars or whatever hunter decides to show up in the Archives."

All that said, Jon falls silent for another few moments, then gives a short, sound- and humorless laugh. Little more than a short motion of his head and shoulders "Tony, I... I'm sorry for unloading all this on you. It's all a mess and I hardly understand any of it. I just- I wish I could still sleep. But I'm hardly even human enough anymore for that."

These new details were far more difficult to follow, not that the way Jon spoke about them was too abstract, but they had veered into much more unique horrors that Tony had no reference for. The world Jon was from was alien to him, and already Tony had gotten too comfortable with ignoring that detail, assuming some shared history made them the same species. Barely. At most, he had been trapped in the Iron Man for a few minutes too long, immobilized and suffocating, and even that much context made his heart rate spike with an awesome dread at what that must have felt like for weeks. It was enough to make Tony drop his hand, folding his arm protectively now across his chest as he shied away from engaging too much more with the details of Jon's tortures. That was too much for him to hold all at once.

Despite the obvious posture, Tony tried to wave off Jon's apology, not wanting him to think sharing this was useless or completely unwelcome. Tony just needed more time for processing, his systems weren't optimized for this kind of thing. He almost asked if Jon had found anyone else to find some support from, but found a different kind of fear scratching between his shoulders at the thought, not unlike Jon's own fear of judgement-- Tony didn't like the idea of anyone else having control over this information, what they would do with it. Jan had called that impulse 'jealousy' once. "Have you tried?" he asked instead, and waved a hand over his face like that could in any way symbolize sleeping. It sounded to Tony like that would have been a welcome oblivion, not being allowed it must have been torture. "You know...what does that mean, hardly human? Are you sure you just don't know how to relax?" That was supposed to be funnier.

The shift in posture is obvious and hard to misinterpret. Not with how attuned to making out fear Jon has become. And he knows the signs even without knowing the details - Though it is those details he tends to find himself curious about.

He won't ask, however. And he resists the urge to reach over himself to attempt creating a reassuring point of connection himself. Contrary to Tony, Jon acts much more verbally than physically.

Instead, he gives another non-laugh in response to Tony's question and another drag from his by now near finished cigarette "I wish? But I know I made a choice. Back when I was... Dead. Anything but brain dead. For six months my heart stood still and I didn't breathe but my mind was... Everywhere. And I was visited by an avatar of the End who told me that I had a choice to make. And I did. I decided that I didn't want to die. I chose to become something else. Maybe I made the wrong choice." Just another thing he has been dwelling on. And yet he still finds himself actually afraid to die.

"And as I said, I can close my eyes and return to the nightmares, but sleep? Doesn't happen. It rather feels like waiting for time to pass without accomplishing anything. If you have suggestions on how to relax- Let's hear them."

That sounded like the darkest possible version of Tony's capture in a terrorist warren, his heart slowly failing him and facing a choice between letting the shrapnel shred the life out of him, or agreeing to become what his captors wanted. If Tony hadn't made a third choice, and been the one to make what he had become instead, he was sure he would prefer the death to becoming, in Jon's terms, an avatar. The idea of the lack of control he had in that short period, stretching out for the rest of his life, was intolerable. That was a strength he absolutely didn't have. Jon wasn't the first person he had met who had gladly made that sacrifice to live, but he was the first to make Tony question his own relationship with mortality. "Do me a favour, don't tell that part to Cap," was all Tony shared of that experience, though. He had no way of knowing if that was a fight Steve had experienced with the Tony in his dimension, but it definitely wasn't one Tony wanted to relive, not with two Captain Americas to face. Jon definitely wouldn't survive that, and they would talk him into it himself.

Tony's ash had grown long as he worried restless at the filter, making him flick in irritation as he took a breath to ground himself out of the chaos Jon was challenging him with. "I'm not great at sleeping, either, but here you go, top ten Stark patented sleep aids: One, get someone incredibly talented and handsome to make that still for Cayde, nothing works better than fully blacking out," he started, maybe just a little to let Jon know he hadn't missed the conversation. "Two, just run the engine out, not applicable, moving on. Three through ten, you'll accuse me of bullying you again, which, listen, that's a personal problem and it doesn't make the offer any less effective for your, uh, situation. Don't fucking do your magic on me again, you asked. You can try flying solo, but it doesn't work nearly as well." If Jon didn't know that already, Tony really didn't understand his species.

It's more than simply obvious that Tony has his own demons to struggle with and something of what Jon has told the man has stirred those creatures up. The request to not tell Cap is met with a slightly puzzled expression, birthed from the simple fact that Jon has yet to meet anyone going by that name. Therefore simply nodding in agreement doesn't come with any qualms. Though he will pay attention to that name - And maybe figure out just why Tony doesn't want that person to know.

Then Tony moves on to his... List? And Jon finds himself caught somewhere between surprise, wonder and a hint of embarrassment.

"You want to build that still?" No Compulsion in this question, only surprise. Maybe a little bit of bemusement? Who else would Tony possibly refer to as incredibly talented and handsome but himself. Though Jon can't help but worry a little along with that surprise. If Tony has listened to that conversations, how much of it did he catch? Can the Archivist hope the other man has missed that moment of actual worry for Tony's well-being during that escapade with the glownie? He won't ask, but that doesn't mean he doesn't remain a little flustered as he clears his throat and glances away.

"And I- I hope you're aware that I'm very hard pressed not to ask the details on three through ten. I, uh- I think I get the idea? But my imagination serves for three through six, maybe seven." Turning his head away for a moment, Jon brings his empty, burn-scarred hand up to cover his mouth for a moment, a vague attempt at covering that small, embarrassed smile. Right. He just admitted that. Jon closes his eyes and removes his hand again with a shrug "Not knowing something can be hard, you see? I may need fear to sustain myself, but if what Elias said is true... Then I need to learn, experience and understand to thrive." And experiencing new things in a city made of ruins eventually gets difficult. Risa had offered more in that regard.

While Jon tried to hide his smile, Tony openly cracked up, the snap of tension after Jon had wound him so tight making his laugh loud until he pressed an apologetic knuckle to his own mouth, the surprised furrow of his brow asking if he was laughing with Jon or at him after Jon turned away like that, it was hard to tell and Tony was definitely doing one of them. He came in hot with a joke, deposited all of this raw information that Tony didn't even ask him for, then didn't have a withering glare for him for the suggestive teasing. Did Billy do something to the air, too? "You must have been really jonesing. What did you do with sourpuss? You know what, when he comes back, don't tell him, this'll be our dirty secret," Tony tried, something would stick, not quite asking what he had done to deserve this grace. No, he was wasting it, who knew how long it would last? Before Jon could respond, Tony continued, "Stop trying to make me jealous, fuck Elias," acknowledging yet another name to file away, the texts that Jon was going to receive over the next few days of scattershot questions mounting every time he spoke, "we'll compare notes, I'll gladly fill in your gaps." Was that pushing it? Tony watched Jon with a sidelong look, his smirk slowly spreading until it barely tipped from predatory to bright, waiting for the inevitable realization of what he had said to Tony, and squirming panic. He couldn't have knowingly goaded him on, right? Offering a lifeline, he abruptly added, "Of course I'll build it, what do you mean? Cayde wants to get this whole city blasted, it's our duty to support such a noble venture. You tell me what you want, it's yours."

While making Tony outright laugh hadn't been Jon's intention, it doesn't seem like a bad thing? Not when a moment before the man has been caught up in his very own pools of dread, likely in reaction to what Jon has unpacked mere minutes before. Finding the man break out of that- Well. It's certainly preferable. Even if the reaction does come as a bit of a surprise to the Archivist and he turns back to Tony, wide-eyed and blinking, wearing the faintest frown at first, not entirely sure where to place that laugh.

It's surprisingly honest. And lacking a certain malice he would have otherwise expected. Still, the Archivist is left sputtering at Tony's initial words, struggling just long enough to miss an acceptable window for an acceptable protest.

Though he doesn't miss his next chance. Even though he ends up thoughtlessly rushing in without having a proper plan, maybe a little too frantic to clear up a rather particular detail.

"Oh- Tony, please! Elias is my boss! That's the last person I would want you to be jealous of." Half a beat passes before Tony gets treated to yet another wide-eyed look of not exactly horror, but much rather belated realization. "Jesus Christ! I just started that, didn't I?"

To his credit, he isn't embarrassed to a degree of being mortified. But embarrassed enough to cast Tony a mildly accusing glare at last that still lacks the promise for dreadful vengeance "I can blame that on you, right? For... Letting me vent. And-" He finishes the sentence with a small nod towards the bud of his cigarette before flicking it away. There may be a hidden thank you in the motion. Just a piece of probably badly masked appreciation.

And while he hasn't missed the part about the still, apparently the Archivist has landed himself on a detour.

There was the squirming, making Tony chuckle a breath of smoke, nodding his adoration for its predictability. It was going to take some more time for Tony to get used to this Jon, though, because he really couldn't tell what he was supposed to be taking seriously. He was going to have to file 'Who am I supposed to be jealous of?' as another midnight text, lingering instead on the puzzle that Jon had presented as Elias, his boss, potentially a monster, giving him pep talks while doing paperwork for the Eye; absolutely inscrutable. He was staring and slow to respond, so when he did he felt about four steps behind and all but snapped, "Let you? I'm an innocent bystander, you just handed me all this baggage, I was busy." He gestured, splayed fingers, at the empty knoll, a cherry petal flitting serenely down to the motionless grass between them. He would take that too seriously. In the same tone of indignation, Tony concluded, "You're welcome." Nailed it. "Come on, you owe me a Cap shield at least, you've got to be good at one of these games."

That sudden outburst has Jon recoil, hands up and backing away, whatever security, whatever comfort he believed to have found shattering in an instant. He remains that way for a few moments, stunned and staring while shame and regret make their home in the pit of the Archivist's stomach. And given how loud is appears to be hammering, Jon is almost certain that his heart has leapt all the way up into his head.

He turns away faster than he would have normally liked, face red and lips pressed into a tense line and almost desperately scanning the nearby booths for one to fulfill the given requirements, muttering his apologies with his fists clenched at his sides to subdue the tremor.

"I-I'm sorry... I, I- I thought-- No. I didn't. I didn't think. I- It won't happen again."

Why does it feel like they have been at this point before...?

Way too seriously. Tony wasn't prepared for Jon to react like he had sent a shock through him, and it felt like stepping on a cat's tail, almost making Tony jump back, too. He was talking over Jon's stammering then instead of listening, "Hey, I thought we were-- listen, I went somewhere else, that's on me, did you say something? Was I supposed to say something? Help me out," as though that made a good case for him. He realized the inefficacy of that eventually at least, and bit his lip to get it under control, hands planted on his hips. It didn't last long. "Sorry." Then, "The games are rigged anyway, I know that, I'll just steal the shield, don't worry about it." No, that was stupid, he wasn't upset about that part. "Sorry." He really ruined that fast, and Jon wasn't even mad at him, he had no idea what to do with this emotion.

Jon doesn't move from where he stands, his eyes searching and eventually settling on a target even as Tony speaks next to him. There it is again. The mutual apologizing. It's something that feels alien to hear from Tony. But they can't just leave it like this. That wouldn't work.

It never does.

"No." Jon says eventually, his heart rate settling again and he looks over his shoulder to Tony before unclenching his hand and reaching over, aiming to take the other man by his hand while announcing in a soft, yet also stubborn voice "I will win it."

Tony had slowly deflated while Jon clearly deliberated whether he should use his monster mind powers to make Tony forget everything that had just happened, if they worked like that, honestly, Tony was more confused now than ever and was left scratching a restless hand through his hair. What he did not expect was that look of determination, achingly familiar and tightening frayed knot of homesick grief behind his ribs, and leaving him entirely not in control of a wide eyed blush and the hand already moving to meet Jon's. So cute...

It was the heat of his face that brought Tony back into his body, making him throw a skittish look back over to the bumper cars, fingers jumping reflexively away from Jon's again at the reminder that they were still in public, whatever that meant here. That anxiety compounded awfully with the fear that this sign of rejection might be what stepped on Jon's tail again when he had just barely recovered from the last one, and the aborted movement became a twitchy tug at Jon's sleeve to make him drop his shoulder instead for Tony to fit where he was starting to get very familiar, arm around Jon's neck. Plausible deniability. "I'm not expecting much," he said lightly, speaking a little too fast, "but just know, I can and will be disappointed. This isn't your planet right now, I know, so I'll help you out a little bit: Captain America," free hand up to rank high, then following down as he continued, "up here, easily, prime prize category, incomparable. Then Iron Man, close second but it's not really a fight, still an acceptable prize category as the coolest of the Avengers, objectively. Everyone else, too close to call, depends on the prize. Big Hulk hands? Great, useless, quality prize. Hawkeye lanyard? Complete garbage."

For a short moment Jon can feel his fingers making contact with Tony's hand, only to find that being abruptly pulled away and he looks up in open confusion only to catch that blush while the other man looks over his own shoulder. The discovery alone is distraction enough to stall any further self-doubt on the matter and the Archivist complies to the tug at his sleeve almost automatically.

And then there it is again: That weight on his shoulder that is starting to become oddly familiar while bringing a similarly familiar warmth with it that at the very least threatens to push Jon into that territory of being flustered. Which he manages to escape from detection by tipping his head down a notch as he turns his attention back forward. And as he can't simply pull Tony towards his target this way, the hand that had been intended for that job moves up against the other man's back and settles between Tony's shoulder blades to urge him to come along as he explains his personal prize tiers.

Which in turn gives Jon some additional pieces on this Cap person. Cap, Cap Shield, Captain America. Some Captain from America. With a shield. Right.Keeping that in mind for now.

"I suppose that means I get to keep any lanyards I win. Might actually have a use for one." Jon concludes while navigating them towards the booth that proudly announces Duck Fishing at the very top in colorful letters set in a painted-on lake and flanked by some adorably excited rubber ducks. Oh yes, he will totally play this game intended for little kids for you, Tony.

"What are you going to use a lanyard for?" Tony laughed. "You know what, you do look like a lanyard guy, don't even say anything if this is true: you wear it on the way home, you don't even take it off until you're through the door. You're the guy still wearing it at the bar after the conference." This fact clearly had enough fuel for Tony to judge Jon's whole character on, and Tony was going to hold it against him for the rest of their time on this planet, but Jon was a perpetual motion machine of embarrassing choices he just offered to Tony to tease him about. There was no way they were headed for the ducks...

If Rumiko or Steve had given him that look of determination then led Tony to this game, he would have been deeply suspicious. He only has a skeptical look to give to Jon then, not accustomed to what Jon might think of as pranks, and, based on what else he found funny, not eager to find out. Tony was going to have to get ahead of this. "Okay," he declared in acceptance of this proposal Jon had just put in front of him, so they were clear on that, then slipped away from him to add, "But." If Jon was going to play the toddler game, they needed modified rules. Tony was already collecting a pair of the fishing rods to hold under his arm, but they were going to need more equipment and Jon had established that Tony wasn't stealing. Yet. Tony gave an idle pat to his own chest before pointing to Jon and curling a finger to indicate he had to get on board here, then tugging the knot of Jon's tie loose with the hook of his finger. A choice Tony had to respect, unlike the lanyard one, because he had been the tie guy at the bar. And in class. Not in any apocalypse, but he could understand the impulse, and it justified its place now. Slipping behind Jon, Tony positioned the blindfold he had graciously brought with him carefully in place to knot tightly at the back of his head, then took hold of Jon's shoulders to assure him he was definitely still pointed in the right direction. "If you're going to cheat, don't make it obvious."

And while Tony makes his assumptions, Jon simply shrugs mildly "...they are useful." And he plain refuses to be offended by such observations. It's not like Tony is wrong - Or that there is anything wrong with using a lanyard.

Unfortunately, pranks are not something Jon defaults to. Or even gives much thought to. Instead, once they arrive, he is very intent on simply starting to fish out those little plastic ducks when- When Tony decided to get... Creative? Though unlike Tony, Jon isn't a very creative man, so he simply watches and waits while Tony gathers the fishing rods and starting from there things go almost a little too fast to follow. He has barely enough time to take off his glasses before they are being replaced by his tie and the world goes from blurry to dark. It's purely instinct that he brings up his hands before him and flinches just a little at the sudden weight of hands being dropped onto his shoulders.

This purely physical and deliberate blindness is... New. He knows perfectly that he is the only one currently unable to see and he knows it's temporary - It's safe. No logical reason to be afraid, but still a certain thrill.

"Ah- I- Okay." Is his initial response after swallowing once and his empty hand moves slightly as if to search for something. So they are playing this blind.

"Y-you have the fishing rods."

"Yeah, you can't be trusted yet, wait," Tony urged. Jon didn't think that was it, did he? While he was searching around with his other hand, Tony plucked the glasses from him, perching them safely over his blindfold where they were meant to be before Jon went stumbling around and broke them. Just because he was a lanyard dork, didn't mean he had to become a taped glasses dork. Everything secure, Tony took hold of Jon's shoulders again to pull and push, nudging him to spin in place like he was gearing up for a swing at the pinata. Only when he had submitted to three of these spins did Tony catch his hands to offer him a fishing rod, now that Tony could make a quick escape if he was going to continue spinning around wildly while armed. "Okay, you're up, rápido, rápido."

The entire spinning tour is, naturally, accompanied by a drawn-out scream of surprise. This has not been foreseeable. At all. Suddenly something is pushed into his hands, traded in for any sense of orientation or steadiness, leaving the Archivist to stumble around for a couple of steps.

"T-Tony! What the fuck--!" A curse well earned just as Jon manages to stop his own forward stumble, reaching around with his hands to find some semblance of orientation "Where do I even have to- Why-!! Holy... Tony... This is not how this game works!"

And yet he still keeps wandering around blindly in search of his target rather than doing the purely logical thing of plain removing the blindfold.

If this tiny rule change to the duck game could cause such a commotion, Tony really was going to have to see what those teacups did to Jon. The sound of Tony's chuckling at Jon's dramatic complaining retreated as Tony skipped away from the danger zone, getting generous distance between himself and that fishing rod and coming to lean along the side of the duck's pond. From this position, if Jon could trust Tony at all now, his voice would have been a hint for Jon to help orient himself and Tony hummed a theatrical contemplation at the problem Jon had presented him with. "I can't argue with that so far, right now I couldn't accuse you of playing a game. Inventing a new dance, maybe. Stepping on an anthill, also strong. I thought you were going to do this, come on, stop wasting time."

Turning towards that voice is an automatic response. It is the only point of orientation at this point, and so Jon staggers that way, still a little dizzy from the spinning and half muttering "Oh, of course you are enjoying this."

Without being able at all to gauge the distance to Tony's voice, his leg hits the booth much sooner than he would have ever expected and he trips side-wards with a sudden yelp, hand shooting out to catch himself blindfolded as he is and, of course, ends up with one arm in the duck pool and the other clinging to the edge of the booth. Though aside from that initial yelp, the Archivist is silent. Maybe a little stunned. Maybe a little wet. But... That's all.

He still makes no move to take off the blindfold, stubborn determination taking the reigns. Pulling himself back upright inelegantly but somehow still clinging to the little fishing rod, the Archivist clenches his jaws behind tight lips and (mostly) faces the pond in a quiet declaration of war. Just watch as he ignores his dripping sleeve and holds out the fishing rod instead, letting the little magnet tied to it hover at least somewhere near the plastic ducks now.

This game for actual babies was going to leave Jon looking thoroughly debauched at this rate. His yelp was followed by a beat of silence from both of them, then a sharp bark of laughter from Tony as Jon pulled his sopping arm from the pool, that was quickly muffled by something not powerful enough to silence the wheezing laugh off to Jon's side. It had to be hard to believe Tony then when he could bring himself to offer, "You're doing great, you look great." Four bars deep into a crawl great. That wasn't the only feedback Jon had to rely on, though; the tiny click of success and tug on Jon's line had Tony going, "Hey, look at that!" with pride.

Jon casts a blindfolded glare in Tony's general direction, which is mostly carried by the slight twitch of his brow. Which, in turn gets ridiculed by the way the Archivist's glasses have been knocked askew.

At least he finds himself to not entirely minding the laughter. Laughter is better than that wariness from earlier and so Jon holds back any comment on his end.

And then he- Catches something?

"Oh?" Jon instantly perks up, lifting his fishing tool and pulling it towards himself eagerly, a brand of curious excitement seeping into his tone despite what had just happened "What is it? I- I don't know how these are being judged. Numbers? Paint, perhaps?"

Tony's voice approached then, coming close as he said, "Knowing Billy, it's probably some unnecessarily complicated and unintentionally inappropriate symbolism." It was Jon's win to interpret, though, because he had performed well and Tony was there to take the glasses again and tug the tie free, liberating him from his sightless stumbling to go back to a normal level of questionable dexterity. Jon's glasses were on Tony's head, the tie looped around his wrist and he raised his eyebrows, the question in his face largely contextless until he started to fold Jon's wet sleeve up out of the way for him. Jon seemed alright, the fall didn't look painful, just humiliating. It was all in the recovery.

Hearing Tony move closer makes it easier to fully locate the man and Jon resists the reflex to pull his head back when Tony takes his glasses and removes the tie. He blinks a few times to try and focus, but without his glasses the world remains a blur. Though he doesn't need to see to understand the wordless action and he looks down towards his own arm and Tony working on his sleeve.

"I'm fine." He reassures, then lets his unfocused eyes drift to the yellow blob of plastic dangling from the end of his fishing line, earlier humiliation mixing with success in an odd way "Well. That was... Different."

With a bit of one-handed maneuvering Jon brings the little duck to his hand and turns it around, squinting a little as he tries to make out what he is looking at underneath "Is this... A gold star?" And it is, indeed. One of an entire pond full.

"Looks like you're getting your Cap Shield."

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