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[From the first moment the video is on, it's clear Reeve hasn't had NEARLY enough sleep. But isn't that just his way? Still, he looks positively exhausted today, and the video includes Mini-C pushing a cup of something steaming to Reeve's hand. The man doesn't even seem to notice as he lifts it and takes a hearty sip before starting.]

Good afternoon all. I would like to let everyone know that through the diligent work of several individuals here, power has been restored to a larger portion of the city. Please extend your thanks to Tony, Echo, and Cal for all their hard work.

[Reeve himself does not wish thanks. He just wishes to keep working.]

There have been some issues, of course. There are, as always, issues with breaks in the power supply network. Therefore we ask for your help and feedback. If there are buildings you are finding have issues with power supply, please advise me, or drop a physical message at the Restoration Committee building, just south east of the fountain. There are likely areas we still need to work on power lines to, and it will take time for us to survey to figure out where they are.

Also, I would like to offer myself as assistance to anyone whose ship currently lacks an engineer. I've been trying to do what I can for the damage in our crash landing, however I've only been able to deal with external issues on the ships I cannot access.

[Another long sip of his water.]

Of course, with water and power in a better place now than it was when we arrived, my question becomes what projects of comfort we might turn to here in Temba. Yes, I know our greater goal of returning home, but I find myself in need of projects.

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That delighted noise was enough to have Tony trailing happily after Reeve, taking stock again of all of the other pieces he had thought Reeve might not really want and taking the evidently well earned coffee with a smile. This place that Reeve was in before always sounded in equal shades better than what they had to contend with in Temba, and much more intolerable, just like this anecdote sounded like it gave him a welcome gift but left Tony raising his lip to say, "That sounds medieval." This planet might have been abandoned, but at least they had made it out of the dark ages at some point. It was only after his assessment that Tony considered, "Uh, did you want...some?" Maybe Reeve had gotten used to working that way.

"Edwardian, I was told," Reeve counters. The term hadn't meant to anything to him, because he wasn't from Earth and he didn't think of time periods based on British monarchs.

The idea of the tools makes Reeve shudder.

"No. I prefer more modern methods. Pacing out an area with a rotating measure is tiring," he admits, shaking his head. "Raising a barn after doing all the measuring and leveling and all of that, it's horrible. But I've done it."

The expression that suggestion Reeve was talking about eating spiders with these details returned, almost effectively distracting Tony from his coffee. Almost. It was long seconds before Reeve got a response as Tony buried himself in his cup, spinning on his heel to take in the room while he had the chance to try to get a sense of what Reeve had been keeping himself up with and slowly hugging his arm across his chest to hold tenderly around the opposite shoulder.

"Luckily, you shouldn't have to do any of that around here," he finally said, gaze still darting around curiously. "You've got an important enough job, keeping the lights on. Leave the barn-raising to the Amish."

"Indeed," Reeve agrees, and he's clearly happy about that. He takes his own cup and takes a seat. A solitary seat. One that doesn't have room for two people. Yep.

Around hte walls Tony will find all sorts of sketches on the walls. Diagrams of parts of the power station, of the water treatment facility, of the replicator. Schematics of the ships. Layouts of the city, and suggested routes that underground power and pipe lines. Clearly he's been working really hard.

"I'm glad. But I'd much rather have a computer, three or four monitors, and CAD software. So badly."

Don't worry, Reeve, you're safe, you've already freaked Tony out with the text, and reminding him very pointedly that he hadn't actually delivered what Reeve was hoping for was a good way to get Tony to pout and get some distance, sidling further away along the wall under the guise of inspecting the diagrams. They were at least giving Tony a very strong impression of what kind of software would suit Reeve specifically, spinning up errant blocks of code that would eventually knit together into something Tony hoped would satisfy. That was, unfortunately, the easy part. Extremis had in large part allowed him to skip having to build an interface entirely as he worked; the materials were elusive.

"But then how would we get you to sleep?" he pointed out. "Never happen. You're forced to pace yourself like this, do the physical work, and look at you."

That wasn't what Reeve meant at all. Tony just kept reading other things that Reeve didn't mean, and sometimes Reeve just made it worse with what he thought or how he spoke but didn't follow up. This was really why they wouldn't work.

Reeve laughs at Tony's point, shaking his head. Yeah, that sounds about right.

"The power project was important, Tony. And Mini chides me into bed every night. He's insistent."

At least Tony wasn't so avoidant about verbalizing their misalignment when he didn't think it was his fault, which was admittedly rare, but in this case had him turning away from the sketches to ask, "We're not talking about it? Okay." If Reeve's intent with this visit was to be distracted from the problem, Tony could be an excellent distraction. He had practice. Tipping his head and biting his lip with his gaze thrown blindly aside, Tony tried to optimize his greatest strength to Reeve's needs, and looked very much like Reeve might regret letting Tony scheme on his own.

Talk about it. Reeve sighs. The very thought of the things he might talk about makes him shiver. Within moments there is the sound of cloth dragging in the bedroom beyond the door. Mini is bringing his coat, and Reeve has to be glad for that.

"My nightmares are of my world in ruins, Tony. Are those things you would really wish me to speak of?"

While Tony knew Mini couldn't be far, the appearance of the doll made his absent calculation drop easily into a smile of greeting and he said, "Hey, kitten." His voice dropped then as he realized where Mini was coming from, toddling out on his own, to continue, "Did we wake you up? Sorry about that, we can keep it down." At least someone in this house was getting some rest, Tony figured.

Reeve's mourning was chilly enough to chase the smile quickly away, leaving Tony pouting in consideration as his attention returned to the doll master. "I don't know, I'm not--a psychologist, or whatever, I don't think we're going to be interpreting your dreams and uncovering your daddy issues or something, so..." he admitted. It wasn't like he came over here with a plan. "But if you want to, or if you want to walk it back and figure out why you're having nightmares this time around, or just want to talk about the kind of hardcore medication you had on your planet for dealing with this kind of thing to long for wistfully..."

If only Mini could sleep. And hadn't already been with Reeve earlier. But the doll holds up Reeve's coat and the man pulls that on. Reeve pulled the large thing on, not caring if he'd get judged for his fashion. Once that's done Mini turns to bounce and wave at Tony. He's happy to see his friend as well.

"I don't have any issues with my late father," Reeve insists, waving suggestion off. But he wants to laugh. "I'm not medicated. I just work."

He always works. With addictive focus.

"Yeah? What's that like?" Tony asked with a sardonic grin into his coffee, as though Reeve's lack of issues was a multiversal singularity. It certainly wasn't common, in Tony's experience. As for medication, Tony tapped his free hand where he still kept it propped over his shoulder in lieu of a illustrative gesture and suggested, "You should try it some time, I'd be on an eight thousand dollar cocktail to eradicate the concept of sensation like a Long Island housewife every day if I could get away with it." Which might have had something to do with the reason he couldn't do any getting away. "There's plenty to do around here," he was willing to accept, continuing restlessly before Reeve had time to reply, as long as they were pretending that was a reasonable alternative. "Lots of new kids, could probably use some help patching up a good place to put their feet up, get some security."

It's hard to explain what a functional relationship with your father is like, Tony. Because even he hadn't had a flawless one. Sure, his father had not approved of his choices, but he'd still be loved and supported.

"I don't know that it would be right for me to just force my offerings on new arrivals. That would be impolite, would it not? They need to make their own decisions."

That was such a wildly alien diffidence to Tony that he stared with raised eyebrows at Reeve for the suggestion of impoliteness, or maybe it was the respect for other people's personal decision making. Tony could be polite if he had to, but he didn't leave a lot of room for other people to make what could have been the wrong decision when he knew he was right, and he was definitely right that everyone should be comfortably sheltered. Were they talking about something else? "Did you force the power on?" he asked, because he thought that was a comparable offering that Reeve had made.

"That isn't even remotely the same, Tony," Reeve sighs. The power gives them all something. But forcing them to accept the changes he chooses to their homes is wrong.

How can he even...?

He sighs.

"People want control over their own lives. They don't have to turn on the lights, that's their option. But me altering their spaces without consent is wrong."

"I didn't say you couldn't ask," Tony pointed out, though he would have been quick to advise Reeve ignore any refusal to help make anyone's life better, to be fair. "And, you know, maybe that's not a thing anyone else realizes that you can do. You've got to get the word out, establish a brand, make some posters. Who do you even hang out with, besides Mini?" He shot the doll an apologetic pout for that, and a shrug, because he had to know that Tony didn't mean his companionship wasn't valuable. Just limited.

Besides Mini? Reeve... sighs and looks away, wrapping his arms around himself. The answer used to be Tony. Now he feels like that isn't an option.

"Cayde, when he is free. Sometimes Cal and Poe, as Mini likes to spend time with the droids."

Twirling a finger by his ear before curling it over his shoulder again, eyes narrowed as he processed what he was really hearing, Tony said, "I feel like I'm listening to that Long Island housewife, you've got your kid and that's your whole thing now, your social life is hanging out with the other parents at school events and now you're so resentful of your husband that you don't even wash the sheets anymore after we fuck on his side of the bed." Give or take a few details, Tony was willing to admit with a roll of his eyes. "Do these guys even know you can build a house? Listen, no one else around here is as qualified as you to put this shitshow back together, as long as we're stuck in it. I'm just saying, I think you're very much allowed to start knocking on doors and making demands. There shouldn't be anyone in this city who doesn't know who you are."

Tony, what in the world are you going on about?

"You presume a lot, Tony, suggesting I could build a house here. In the last place there were more people. There was lumber operations, it was possible to get the resources needed because they were already started upon."

This was truly not the way to deal with his insomnia. Reeve finished the last of the coffee in his cup, frowning at Tony. Forcing himself, his presence upon others didn't seem the wise choice.

"There are plenty here who do not care of the state of Temba. Plenty here who do not even seem to care enough to acquire a datapoint. I'm considered silly for some of my work."

Reeve being generally irritable with Tony wasn't new, but the flaccid way he was sighing and grumbling at Tony from that chair left Tony itching, not sure if he should push harder. That could mean he didn't get an invitation over again for a long time, but that thread of patience must have been so easy to snap.

"Oh, that's not the work. It's the coat that's silly," Tony corrected blandly, then was right back to his babbling. "What do you mean, you can't? I've seen what you can do, I've been in your head, and you're talking like we're wagon-covered pioneers and not standing in the middle of a metropolis that just needs some patching up. I think 'started upon' happened a while ago. If this is about what datapoints other people are taking, I don't know, I feel like we're talking about something else, like you've let someone else get into that big brain."

His coat? Wow. Reeve looks up and looks upset at that. His coat is very nice, Tony, don't tell him it's not.

"Tony," he says, his voice soft, tired because he's tired, and he looks a bit defeated, "metropolises are built on something. Materials I lack. Do you see cement here? Steel beams? A way for me to make them? It doesn't matter if you've seen Midgar through my eyes, I lack what it takes to make that here. I can't rebuild all of this because it's not possible."

The resources, the man power, the hours, they aren't there. He doesn't know what to do. He's lost now, Tony. He achieved his current goal and he lacks another right now, and he's not accepting an argument of 'change people's homes' argument.

"There are no resources."

"Reeve," Tony sighed back, a more impatient volley of a very different exhaustion, because it sounded to him like Reeve was committed to resenting himself for his own, fabricated limitations that Tony didn't see any evidence of. Reeve really needed something to direct that energy into. Or about fourteen hours out cold. As Reeve was lamenting his array of resources, Tony approached to collect the mug from him and push them both aside onto his desk for someone else to deal with later, then took Reeve by the front of that, yes, very silly coat to tug him encouragingly up onto his feet. "For the record, cement is very easy to make, and I'm not suggesting you re-envision the skyline, I'm just saying, everyone could use the assurance that the place they're keeping their head down is structurally sound and the pipes aren't going to burst. I'm pretty sure you can handle that. Now, do you want to punch me, or are you going to let me put you to bed?"

His coat is very striking and fashionable he will have you know. Silly man, for thinking anything less of it. And he wants to argue a lot of things. BUt mostly because the arguing keeps him awake and an awake Reeve is a Reeve that isn't having nightmares.

"Why would I punch you?" Reeve asks in confusion, though he does stand and does look a bit displeased to have his coat tugged at. He can't get a new one, Tony. Don't damage it.

Tony pursed his lips at that question, as if anyone needed a good reason, and smoothed the coat back down now that he had Reeve out of his seat. "You know, the Avengers..." he said, hand twisting to swing them back around to where they had started here. "The next best cure for insomnia is working it out on the mats. Allegedly. Wasn't really my thing, but I'd let Hawkeye throw me around for a bit, I can make the time." If Reeve needed some encouragement, though, Tony wasn't above giving a threatening tug to a button that Reeve seemed so defensive about.

"I'm not really good for hand to hand," Reeve admits. He does move forward. Tony, so foolish to think that getting Reeve to lay down would mean the man sleeping.

"Give me an automatic rifle and a target and I can be of use, or materia, but a punch? Not my style."

"You don't have to be good at it..." Tony started to argue, because Reeve didn't seem to be getting the point, but he could see how a shooting range could serve some of the same purposes. That was just something Tony wasn't prepared to provide, without a little warning and some allowance for modifications. Maybe that would be good to have on hand regardless, with Catra insisting on keeping her gun and Jon continually testing his aim under duress.

Snapping back to attention, Tony shook his head, no, this wouldn't do, and leaned in to provoke Reeve into getting it. The hold on his button threatened to break it clean from the fabric as Tony tugged Reeve into Tony's wicked, hot breath against his ear, close enough that Reeve would have to shove him away if he didn't want to fall back into the chair, "We could work up a sweat any way you like, sweetheart."

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