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WHO: Tony Stark, dangerously open
WHERE: Tony's Calibration Room
WHAT: You're stuck in Tony's head and good luck, buddy, he doesn't want to be there, either.
WHEN: During the Calibration Event (June 3rd - July 10th)
WARNINGS: Some body horror under the cut, but otherwise it depends on you. Digging for Tony's secrets is still going to be a challenge here, so if you work for it I'll assume you want to see that nasty stuff. I'll update as necessary.
Update: Horny, as usual.

There is bright, dazzling light in the eye immediately upon entering this room, another door directly in front of the entrance peppered with bursts of camera flashes and roving spotlights illuminating the fine, gold silk drapes around the open frame, flashing through intricate, stained glass mosaics set into the stone flanking the entryway, and glinting off of the golden struts where a velvet rope had hung but had been knocked carelessly to the floor, an open invitation. Through it is a sweet-smelling party, packed with beautiful people in even more beautiful clothes, laughing among the sumptuous chime of crystal in a warm, welcoming hall. The wall stretching away from either side of it reaches almost to the extreme edges of the room, incrementally decaying from polished brickwork to raw, cracked stone, tumbling down into rubble that litters the way further into this room around the corner from the rich door.

This building the door is set into is just a wall from the other side, built up into a dark cave of that raw stone. Tony is pacing behind it, nowhere in the cave welcoming enough to sit or linger, jagged piles of scrap metal where there wasn't cold stone lining the walls and scattered in piles that would have to be carefully navigated to avoid sharp edges glinting readily to slice into ankles. The lone occupant isn't dressed nearly as charmingly as anyone at that party that would have been such a good time, his once white shirt wrinkled and tattered and rolled up to his elbows, open at the collar and liberally stained black down the front with whatever dripped from his hands, thick and dark like oil and charcoal. In one hand, coated in this viscous liquor, his ever restless fingers worked erratically and mercilessly over a dark knot. The sweet smell of the hall is long gone here, overtaken quickly by acid and whiskey and a bitter, sick smoke.

Set into the back of the wall, there is a computer monitor, spilling a soft blue glow across the stone floor with a constant generation of lines of code in an alien alphabet that Tony throws judgemental glances at as he paces back toward the front of the cave. Most of the light comes from the back of the room, though, the roof of the cave opening to a bright, blue sky, where soft clouds make a slow march across and birds wheel freely, well above the curl of smoke that whisped up out of the cave and dissipated.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Reeve easily wins his attention again from the people around him in idle conversation, effectively banishing them down the steps to leave him standing in the pool of the cape draped richly along the banister behind him. "I've been watching you," he said, eyes still a playful glimmer behind the snarl of the mask, clearly tracking Reeve's approach as they had his circuit through the room, tracking what caught his attention on his way. "I was wondering when you would make your way over here." Tony finally tipped the mask aside, holding it at first against his neck to offer Reeve that welcoming grin again. He didn't look much different than he did in Temba, hair carefully trimmed shorter perhaps, clearly attentively manicured and overall polished to a deadly shine that made him look as untouchable as any of his armors ever did, but it was all cosmetic subtleties. He must have been the same, because he followed up with, "Does this live up to your approximate finery?"

Of course it was Tony, and Reeve smiled and offered that perfectly angled brief nod that was both a greeting, and an acknowledgment of one in a higher social standing. Perhaps he hadn't liked these form of parties at Shinra, but he knew how to move among them, as if he belonged. As if he was someone.

"It's all just frivolous plumage, Tony," Reeve observes, turning his attention away from the other man to look out over the party. "I'd accept you just as easily in a jumpsuit spattered with grease and oil. Or with safety glasses and holding a soldering iron. It is not the garments that matter, just who is there under them."

Wise, like the owl mask might imply.

"I've been told that those who take a position such as this over a party, where he can watch all but truly be separate from it, are not really enjoying themselves. They stand and they watch and they wonder about the whispers and conspiracies, watch for plots and jump at shadows. Is that true of you?"

The first observation had Tony narrowing his eyes, his grin twisting wry, trying to work out if the owl mask was his own doing or Reeve's after that comment. He was sure that suit wouldn't have been what he dreamed Reeve in on any conscious level but less confident about his perception of what Reeve used to hide behind. Those polished pearls of wisdom always seemed to come out so genuinely and unprompted. What Reeve accepted of him was very different from what anyone else at these parties did, though; he wouldn't have been so quick to offer the inner beauty speech if their relationship had started with money between them. Tony had a certain image to uphold to keep the contracts secure, and while Reeve's position might have been sweet, it didn't get the paychecks out on time.

He had to tip his head, tapping his mask thoughtfully against his chin at the question. "You've been told, or you've been there?" he turned back, smile toothy again with the inquiry before Tony was covering it again with the blue scowl. "Of course I'm enjoying myself," he insisted from behind his shield. "Let them talk, any press is good press." Canting his head, Tony gave a flutter of a hand under the cover of the cape to indicate a nearby guest. "See her? She's going to make sure I'm there to help her when she's in trouble, let me buy her a diamond necklace, then be ready to hand me a bottle the same moment she tells me I'm pathetic. It'll lose me my whole company, and she'll be rich. Devious, no doubt. I handed her the loaded gun, though, didn't I?" That made him the master of ceremonies. He couldn't truly be separate from it at all, especially not the conspiracies.

Interesting. Reeve considers the woman, silent and sad. Of course the mask hides that, doesn't it? What a strange mindscape for Tony to have, for everything to be so hidden. The woman, though, earns his ire.

"The best way to avoid a trap is to trust no one I assume," he says, and he can't keep the sorrow out of his voice before turning back to look at Tony. "What I said was something I was told when I was younger, by a very wise man named Veld. He was... well, he was the chief spy and enforcer employed by my company."

There might be a reason Reeve had a thing about dark, dangerous men, added bonus if they were older or had particularly nicely managed facial hair.

"He could tell you about a person from where they stood in a party like this. The first time he told me that was my first Shinra formal party. He found me hovering near the catering table. Said it is the place of the lost and the nervous. In time, though, I stood at the outskirts, but not high. The place of someone who wishes to be separate and doesn't feel like they belong. Someone who doesn't expect to be conspired against, because they're already an outsider."

"Did you ever make it to the centre?" Tony asked with a taunting laugh in his voice, even though he already knew that wasn't where Reeve wanted to end up at all and the bite of superiority that would have worked on someone like Justin Hammer was toothless here. He let the mask drop again to offer an apologetic shake of his head for the question, forget it, smile warmer without the shield and affectionate for Reeve's confidence that didn't come from rabid social climbing. Reeve had clearly earned his place at those parties in his own way, though, so even if he wasn't striving for the attention, it still begged the question, "Why didn't you think you belonged?" Tony, conversely, hadn't earned it at all, this life was a birthday gift that continued to chafe, no matter the amount of practice, yet he felt absolutely sure it was where he was supposed to be. Who he was without the frivolous plumage was worthless. "It sounds like Veld expected something of you, or was he sharing his secrets with all the pretty young interns?"

Did he ever make it to the center? To being be one everyone looked to and thought? The one pulling all the strings and setting all the goals and making people watch him. Would Tony be shocked to hear the answer?

“Yes, Tony, I know what the spotlight feels like. I was one of the last authorities left standing, the high man on the totem pole when my city and nearly my world were destroyed. And given the public knew I wasn’t like the others, given I had worked to topple the company, guess who got a lot of the attention afterward? I’ve had no less than three assassination attempts in the last four months. Two In one week. I’ve had to learn to supplement my magic usage with decoys and a competence with a gun.”

Not to mention wearing clothes to more easily facilitate the two.

As for the other things. Well, Reeve twists to lean against the banister, resting his weight against it. He was confident it would hold.

“I had a soul, from day one. That was what made me different. I cared. And I’ll have you know I was never an intern. Had a full on job offer before I graduated.”

That might not have been the bite Tony was intending, but it certainly snagged something. The way Reeve had talked about his life as a company man had sounded like ancient history before, like he had left that behind to do his good work, and the immediacy of this reveal, including realizing that Reeve hadn't adapted so much has settled into the same place made Tony hold his mask firmly against his chest, feeling like he should put it back on again. Reeve didn't like to play the game, he was making that clear, he didn't know how to change the conversation to get out of the crosshairs, he was fighting his way straight through. He could use a bodyguard.

Tony leaned down to close the distance as Reeve joined him against the banister to ask, "How did you know?" about his soul. On day one, Tony would have said he had a soul, too, of course, but hindsight was crystal clear. He did grin at Reeve's proud accomplishment as he leaned back, laughing, "I think I would have made you get me coffee for a few days at least, to have you around. It would have caused quite the stir when you shot suddenly to project lead. They love those stories around the cafeteria."

Oh there were fare more than those few attempts. That's just Reeve listing the recent ones. Three years as the head of the WRO and he had made a few enemies. During his many years with Shinra he'd only had to deal with it twice.

But the question is an important one, and Reeve moves from the banister to be closer to Tony, reaching out to put a hand over the place where Tony's heart should be.

"I didn't, for a long time. But the longer I was with the company, the more I saw it. The more I saw that I was the only one that cared. That when people were hurting, I'd get this ache, right here..."

his hand slides down Tony's chest and falls to his side, sighing.

"My department always had more of a focus on the people. The man who was my predecessor, though, he too played the political game. I think the first time I realized it was when, several months into my tenure as an executive, they were shocked I didn't play their games. Not just the political ones, but the others. Heidegger bullying and threatening his men. Scarlet using her trooper guards as fucking tables and foot rests. Palmer throwing things at people..."

He didn't even go in to Soldier and the Turks.

But then he's chuckling at the idea of how Tony would play the game.

"And they wouldn't assume I had gotten a position with you by being in positions with you?"

The move made Tony flinch, tense and fixed under Reeve's hand until it dropped away, but he had Tony's searching focus while he spoke. Caring about people was a pretty good argument for a soul, and it didn't seem to be a common trait in this way their worlds seemed to overlap. Bullying, threatening and abusing not only the employees, but the communities and the environment around their companies was the standard business model for most of Stark's corporate rivals. "You cared about your team," Tony surmised, then with a lopsided grin, "Positive reinforcement." Tony would bet Reeve would take the beatings for them, too, if he had to.

With a laugh that finally made Tony drop the protective brace of his arms around himself, letting the mask fall to hang loose from his wrist where the ribbons wrapped up his arm and curling his hold over the banister instead, Tony shook his head. "Not unless you had great tits at that age," he promised. "Men always earn their positions, fair and square, no questions asked, isn't that the same for you? Besides, the boss has a type, he's a total ladies' man. Some sissy couldn't run a whole company like this. Your reputation would be safe."

"I care about everyone, Tony. That's what made me such a horrible executive. What makes me a horrible commissioner of the WRO. I care about people. Truly and deeply. And no one who works for me ever does so without earning it."

Though that Tony could admit the same wasn't true of him was telling. Then again, had he not seen the same of Rufus? Preferential treatment was given in line with the tastes of those in positions of authority. It was an abuse Reeve never allowed himself. One proved their value before they were given anything more than the bare minimum.

Which meant that his friends had an advantage only in that they had more than proved their value. They were worth more than Reeve was.

"Anyone who would dare suggest that men in positions of power and authority can only be straight would not have survived in Midgar. Sure, the late President Shinra was closed minded and thus I was forced to hide a few dalliances of mine, but... Well, it doesn't matter I suppose."

His hand settles gently on Tony's arm, even as the other moves to lift the owl mask up and off so he can give Tony a very serious look.

"You are better than the machinations of these people. You are better than the hard way you view yourself, or viewed yourself. That much I am already certain of. So perhaps it is important that you stop penalizing yourself for your past and move forward in time. While our pasts may shape the men we were, they need not define the men we are."

Then he puts the mask back on and moves to offer his hand out to Tony.

"Come dance with me. Show them and yourself that you're above their silly games. Don't be the man standing watch over the party. Rather, be a part of it. Enjoy it. Don't let it hamper or define you. Just let it be, well, a party, and one you've earned."

And Reeve would have earned his position at Stark with a few convincing speeches like that, making Tony's calculating study of him visibly soften with a smile. It wasn't an abuse of power to Tony to give a lot for a little, and a man like Reeve was bound to be found spinning his wheels as a low-tier lab technician while someone like Osborne profited off of his work on the back of his gentle spirit, in Tony's experience. That was the luxury of being the boss in control of the profit margins, handing out the bonuses and titles until they blew up in his face and Pepper was complaining about the books because tall, dark and handsome turned out to be a supervillain again. He did have excellent ideas, though.

The smile was gone with a slight twitch of surprise as Tony tried to interpret 'would not have survived'. He knew where Reeve had come from had its own problems with discrimination, he had made that clear enough, so he was still slightly baffled as he realized Reeve was trying to advise him to look more to the future. It made Tony tip his head back in a delighted laugh, not sure what he had done to give Reeve the impression that wasn't always where he was looking--it could have been this awful place they found themselves stuck in, but they had already spent so much of their time together feeling out the strange convergences of their pasts, he had to guess, that Reeve had enchanted Tony into forgetting he was the futurist. He had to wave a hand in apology for it, he wasn't laughing at Reeve and it wasn't his fault at all that Tony seemed to forget himself around him, and he definitely wasn't laughing at another pearl from the owl. It was easy to take Reeve's hand then, but with the other he pushed that mask back up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Did you pick this thing?" he asked of the mask as he plucked it off and stepped away to lead them down the stairs.

The cheek? He was both content with that, and vaguely disappointed. But he lets that drop, as well as the mask as he follows Tony down the stairs.

"Pick?" Reeve asks, his tone considering. "An interesting question. Most people associate me with cats, given Cait Sith, given Mini even. But an affection for folk tale and the stories my mother told never meant there was a specific affinity for them over other things. Owls? Creatures of wisdom, according to folk tales. Wisdom, foresight. They are omens of what is to come, if they are read correctly, and some say omens of death. They keep vermin populations under control and are the hunters you never see nor hear coming. Why would one not wish to emulate them?"

Okay, perhaps it was Reeve's subconscious giving it to some degree.

"You don't seem like much of a cat to me," Tony admitted in a mumble as Reeve continued his theory, and they were at the bottom of the stairs before Reeve had finished but that was where Tony hesitated, losing his nerve now that they were among the crowd. It was just a dream, it wasn't if one single real memory but a loose amalgamation that Tony could see parts of throughout the room, but he still moved his hold up around Reeve's elbow to guide him around the stairs instead, trying on Reeve's mask with a quick flash of a grin his way. It was a dream, but Reeve very much felt real, and Tony was trying to respect the distance he had asked for so there were still some boundaries here.

"Or do I see you as the hunter?" Tony proposed, tapping the mask and briefly squeezing tightly around Reeve's bicep to try the identity on before chuckling. That couldn't be right, Tony didn't know what or who that would make the vermin. "A portent of my future," he corrected as lead them out of the hall onto a cool balcony. "I already knew I'd be sexy in my old age, though." His eyes were still smiling behind the owl mask as he slipped his hand back into Reeve's. "If I had to pick, I think you would be..." he tried, and quickly found it was hard not think of Reeve as the owl, scrambling slightly to come up with, "A bear?"

A hunter? Reeve highly doubts that. And if he's a portent of Tony's future, he is sad for that future, a future where one destroys what is there before them, what is held precious above all.

"I think you're reading too much into it, Tony. But I'm definitely not hairy enough to be a bear."

Then again, the word may not have the same context in Tony's world as it had with it. Still, he was sad to see that smiling face go. His fingers came up to follow the lines of the pewter creation, saddened.

"Must you hide from me like this?"

No, maybe not hairy enough, making Tony snort, but he corrected, "A noble authority of her territory, nurturer and protector." The owl didn't suit him as well anyway, and Tony had too many risky videos in the wrong hands to be accused of hiding, please, he was an open book, so he conceded to lifting the mask off again to hand it back to its rightful owner, letting him offer a grin with some mischief then raise Reeve's hand to leave a gallant kiss on his knuckles. "You offered me a dance," he reminded Reeve, eyebrows up and hopeful that he could make this concession to move it away from the packed hall.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had a personal hand in nurturing anyone. But perhaps we’ve different views on my behavior.”

The mask was laced back on, but around his neck this time, so he didn’t have to worry about it obstructing his view of the other man. Then he nodded to Tony.

“I presume you’re the sort of man to lead. You don’t strike me as a follower.”

What did Reeve think he was doing with his little animal friends? What did Tony think he was doing with his little animal friends? Looking bemused by this declaration, Tony could only shrug, sure, different views, glad at least that was the statement they were in disagreement about. "And you're a fast learner," Tony accepted the suggestion, sweeping to take Reeve into a hold around his waist even as he sniffed, "Try not to step on these shoes. They were expensive."

"I already know how to lead," Reeve counters, chuckling as he says it and those hands catch him up. He might be very pleased to share this dance with Tony.

He may even be leaning in close to whisper in the other man's ear.

"They may be expensive, but to keep you from pain caused by me is far more precious."

One eye was on the door as Tony drew Reeve into the first step, but it was quickly forgotten as Reeve came close and Tony gladly held him there, bringing their clasped hands against his shoulder. "Seriously, an embarrassing amount of money," he insisted first, then his laugh was a warm gust down Reeve's neck. He didn't want to delve too deeply into that statement, as badly as he wanted to ask, because he didn't want to know that the answer was that Reeve would be that unreasonably sweet to anyone he danced with. Of course he would be.

"I know a lot of-- all of the people in there, probably, are manipulative and ruthless and--" Well. It didn't really matter, that wasn't the point Tony was trying to make. "But I have known some outrageously kind and generous people in my life, more than I've deserved the honour of knowing, I'm sure, and even the ones that can talk an army into a hopeless battle or council a bomb into diffusing, they never...express themselves. Like you do." What was the point? "I thought I was good at talking myself out of a problem." Nailed it.

The breath on his neck makes Reeve catch his breath. As much as he knows he shouldn't let his heart race with it, it still does. He remembers their night together. Remembers it very well, and that breath only brings it back to the fore. But he tries to push the thought aside, tries to keep this... civil. Friendly even.

"Sometimes I feel it would be more useful to be able to talk to people like that. My self-expression never seemed to get me very far with Shinra. No one ever chose to listen. I suppose it's refreshing that you do so with such eagerness."

He smiles and starts to bob his head a little to the music, clearly counting beats.

"Are you leading me around, or not?"

It had been Tony's impression that Reeve spoke the way he did because people readily listened, instead of talking around a problem and being guarded in case it was taken the wrong way, or taken advantage of. Maybe it was a symptom of the masks, but Tony couldn't think of a single Avenger that talked to anyone the way Reeve casually did with him, and Tony tried to explain, "No--" Not the utility of it, ignore that, don't start talking for the sake of efficient problem solving, "it's vulnerable." Maybe that wasn't the right way to explain, either. It was Reeve that was good at this, not Tony. He took the out Reeve offered him before he made it any worse, breathing another laugh at the prompt before sliding his hand up to catch Reeve in the deep dip Tony plunged them into and assured him, "By the tail." He spun them back up to a close waltz across the balcony, at double tempo to keep Reeve in a tight hold and force him close to follow or lose the footing.

Vulnerable. Yes, he had rendered vulnerable by Tony. But he smiles and lets himself be led on and and the dip earns a bit of shock for him. But he laughs in delight. The man's strength continues to impress him.

"Or by other things," he returns, even as he keeps himself in pace with the other man. He's good enough no to trip over the other man.

For someone who already knew how to lead, he also followed adeptly enough to not let Tony trip him, making Tony graciously slow their dance to consider a different angle to put Reeve off balance and not feeling optimistic that it would be possible in this venue, either. Swaying more deliberately, Tony gave a hum of intrigue then said, "I'm open to suggestions," with a wry grin, happy to get a grip around anything Reeve was still offering. Did Reeve's time mean not flirting with him anymore? That would be a real problem, Tony wasn't sure he knew how to do that.

Flirting would still be welcome, he just... needed time to get over Tony, so that it would be playful and familiar but not make him want to make it go somewhere.

"Well, you can always bribe me with lessons in design. You do things I've never even fathomed before. My world is so far behind yours in terms of technology that I'd almost expect to learn humans on your world have been to space more than once."

Oh is he ever going to be surprised.

Tony was muttering with a pleasantly confused smile, "Wait, what am I bribing you for...?" as Reeve spoke, but he didn't need a very good reason to share some knowledge with him. It did seem fair. Still, as he swung Reeve around on a sliding toe to transition their step into a more latin push and pull, hand sliding lower to guide his hips, Tony did his most convincing, "You've been to space?" It didn't last, Tony cracking up quickly and correcting, "Yeah, a handful of times," with a humility that was far less convincing. "You took being on another planet surprisingly well," he had to point out.

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