treasure

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony and...I don't know, there's some predetermined stuff, and some ambiguously open stuff in here. Check in at the Shenanigans plotting post if you're feeling unsure and need a formal invitation.
WHERE: The forge, the not-library
WHAT: Tony has a gift for Jon, and is trying to make a much more misguided gift for Poe. Some early speeder bike development catch all, if you like.
WHEN: Early February, Agrii Valentines Celebration
WARNINGS: Glitter?


a. The forge [OTA! If you just want to bring your own project, this is a good place]
The first shimmering fleck that caught Tony's eye fell onto his cheek, making him wink with his face twisted in surprise before carefully retrieving it with a finger pressed to the...plastic? It stuck easily to his skin, but Tony could only frown at it, baffled, and glance back toward the forge curiously, expecting the chimney to be pouring out some foreign element among the plume of dark smoke. He was on his back under the body of the vehicle that Cayde had called a sparrow, Poe had called a speeder, and was probably neither of them, really, as Tony slowly brought it together, the Iron Man kneeling in the grass next to him to Jack up the whole assembly for Tony to rework the fuel array again. Eventually, he would get this thing working.

As more of the strange precipitation began to flurry through the sky, clumping together against the seams of the Iron Man and through the bricks of the forge, Tony had to sit up and consider very seriously that this was...glitter. As he stared at the armor, he could see some of the more fanciful details--the heart shapes, the stars, making him raise a lip in confusion, then glance around again, seeking a source. It just seemed to be, warm and shimmery and catching the early light in a dancing array over the skyline.

By the time the sun had properly risen, he had disturbed Catra trying to sleep by the fire by clattering around in the forge, searching for empty vessels to collect as much of the strange glitter as possible. Impulsively, he had snatched at the bouquet of flowers he found by her head, only to have them burst in his hand and make him yelp, dancing away from the glitter bomb with his hand coated now in pink and red. He was much slower to pick up the card that had been with the bouquet, pinched carefully between two fingers until it didn't seem to be a bomb as well, the Agrii's pictures making him snort. Of course. It went up with the notes from Cayde and Jon that were clipped over his workbench, slouching against Cayde's map and funnelling more of the glitter throughout the day to gather in the folds of Jon's still designs.

By the time he was back to working on the bike, there were bowls and jars arranged against the walls and among the grass, incrementally measuring the shimmering downpour. This was going to be wreaking havoc on any meal production, Tony realized, so Tommy wasn't as likely to show up today, leaving him to grumble at the pile of tools and components that had been left around the weedy patch where he worked without the kid to find anything for him in this mess.

b. The library? [For Jon, but feel free to crash this party]
If Tony was going to try to understand the Agrii, and he would rather not, he hazarded a guess that whatever this glitter storm and gifting was about, it was something of an apology for the storm that they had come crashing into, or the giant pest problem that the Agrii had neglected to warn them about. Maybe that was just where Tony's head was, though, because he had plenty of his own apologies to make, and a misguided gift was historically how he dealt with that. Did he have something in common with the Agrii? Jesus.

Trying not to think too hard about that possibility, he came gliding slowly into the library on the Iron Man's skates, leaving rivulets in the dusting of glitter on the floor behind him. He carried what would have been a familiar shape to Jon, despite being wrapped as it was in what looked like a scrap of leather, against his armored chest; an acquisition from the replicator that he had impulsively requested just after replacing his sunglasses, then finding himself very overwhelmed with the amount of stuff he could really use at the forge. Taking the stairs down into the basement wasn't quite as smooth, producing a strange, very heavy thunk-thunk-thunk as he rolled carelessly down each step, the momentum depositing him against the desk that rattled with the lurch. He didn't really intend to stay, but had a quick look around for the Countess, hoping maybe she would display a tiny bit less annoyance upon seeing him so he could pretend Jon wasn't as annoyed with him as well. Yeah, that would totally work, Tony would feel great about that and all of his problems would be solved. He sighed into the mask when he didn't spot the animal, leaving the book on the desk and pushing himself back toward the stairs. It would be pretty obvious who it could have been from, Tony thought, even if Jon had no context for the author 'Reed Richards'--only a few pages into the forward of this physics text- cum-autobiography and it was already colourful with the caped heroes of Tony's world, and how they shaped the natural laws around them. And the library had just expanded exponentially, even if Jon wasn't particularly keen on the gesture and couldn't be convinced that Billy was clearly being very thoughtful.

Comments

b? B.

[beholding_archivist]

It’s when Tony is heading back towards the stairs that Jon descents those very stairs himself, improvised clipboard in hand and tapping a pen thoughtfully against some notes kept on them that obviously are dominating his attention at the moment.

He isn’t limping any longer and any open wounds and scrapes from the spider attack have healed, though the scar at the side of his head is obviously meant to stay. He still lacks his glasses, which results in a notable squinting while he looks down at whatever notes he has taken.

Only when he has almost reaches the bottom of the staircase does he notice the armored figure stepping away from his desk and for a moment he freezes in place, recognition not as immediate when the looming figure is perceived by somewhat blurry vision and just for a moment Jon sees a hulking delivery man before him, clad in a grey overall and ready to kidnap him - Again.

It’s only when reason catches up with him to remind him that Breekon isn’t in Temba that he blinks and the grey form before him shifts into a more probable shape. “T-Tony...?”

[in_extremis]

Iron Man rolled slowly across the floor, listless and back to the stairs as Tony cringed inside of the suit at not tracking where Jon might have been to avoid being caught letting himself into Jon's space again. When he did turn, it was a smooth swivel on the wheels before he dropped abruptly, feet to the floor with the skates retracted, and he spread his hands like this was a perfectly normal greeting. "Hey, yeah, I just was--looking for you--" Nope, that didn't make it better. Quick, come up with a better story; "Tommy said you were walking around talking to yourself with a--clipboard. He was worried about you." Why did he have a clipboard? It was as though everything he did had to be prehistoric.

[beholding_archivist]

Seeing Tony roll forward rather than stomping has Jon look down, puzzled. It takes him a moment of squinting to notice the skates just before they vanish.

Well. That’s a thing, apparently.

He looks back up once Tony speaks and tilts his head a little, two of his fingers lightly drumming against his clipboard in indecision. In the end, he settles with a soft sigh, followed by a little smile. “I prefer the version in which you simply come looking for me, Tony.” And he nods towards his desk and the wrapped book on it. “But I suppose it’s another sneaky gift delivery, instead. Armored delivery...”

The armor Tony doesn’t want Jon to touch. Which still leaves him wondering why he even had been allowed to use that gauntlet... but alas. Tony doesn’t want to be touched, so Jon’s hands will have to content themselves with the clipboard.

[in_extremis]

That was what Tony was worried about, making him anxiously bring a hand up to wrap around his neck with a soft clink, the sensors telling him that there was pressure there not nearly as satisfying as digging his nails into his hair. Waving the other hand dismissively for the 'delivery', he said, "Yeah, I--that's nothing, don't worry about it," and tensed briefly like he was considering taking it back until he had worked out what he had really meant to do. For now, he stood where he had rolled, shoulders dropping instead because the issue of the book was less important than, very quickly, "I know I should have been looking out for you, I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened and it's not like I was--that's what this thing," a ringing tap on his chestplate, "is supposed to be for, and I'm--just---"

He froze up again, unable to grasp the correct words for the acid that had been eating its way through his chest since Jon had gotten hurt. It should have come much easier, after dwelling on it so long, but he hadn't exactly had Jon to try it out on. "I got you a book," he decided. Like he was taunting Jon with how much Tony had failed him. "And you probably can't read it." He should have thought about that at any point before he was saying it to Jon, looking distinctly vulnerable without his glasses.

[beholding_archivist]

Jon simply looks up at the expressionless faceplate, his only indication for Tony’s mood the small shifts in his posture. And he frowns. “Tony, you- You couldn’t have known. I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and I- I don’t expect you to babysit every step that I do.” A simple fact.

The frown doesn’t quite vanish, though, and Jon can’t help but sigh a little. “...yet I can’t help but feel that you’ve been distant. And the last few times I got to see you... It’s in that armor you don’t want me to touch. And I’m not sure whether you are shutting yourself in or- Everyone else out?”

There is an insecurity in Jon’s voice. A wondering. Maybe it is just him Tony is trying to cut out? Just like Martin has done? But then again... Why the book. The thought of which makes him smile a little as his eyes drift over to it again. Yeah, he may have trouble reading that at the moment. Still his voice is soft when he speaks again. “Thanks for the book. I am- Looking forward to... Well. When I can read it.”

[in_extremis]

Babysit certainly made the impulse to keep Jon from getting his head cracked open sound infantilizing, and wasn't how Tony would have put it, making him hesitate as he stumbled over this new frustration; Jon had proven so far that he was always reliably there to help Tony, whether or not Tony was receptive to his care, so could probably handle himself just as well, but that did make it particularly egregious that Tony hadn't managed to reciprocate. "It was supposed to be for..." he tried again, quieter and with another tap to his chest, because the Iron Man was supposed to fix that, it was supposed to be the best part of Tony, but Jon was still talking.

He left Tony with a challenging question, and no good way to argue himself out of it because Tony hadn't thought he was doing either of those things, and now he wasn't sure if he might have been doing both. Not consciously, anyway, and he could prove it, abruptly pulling the helmet off with a small flourish, see, he wasn't shutting anything anywhere. The bruising from the pressure along his jaw and temples suggesting he might have been in the suit more than out of it lately was traitorous, but the air was already full of glitter and doing half the dazzling work for him, Tony just had to keep talking. "About that. I thought, listen, I could help with that, how hard could it be? I know how to make a lens. I already made you one before, that's still working. I can fix this, too," he said, and lifted the helmet very clearly, twisted toward Jon to show that Tony would put it on him if he was accepting the offer. "A quick scan, and I'll know exactly what you need. The frame's the easy part, that's nothing, I've already got ideas."

[beholding_archivist]

Just what Jon is supposed to interpret into the armor at this point he isn’t certain, but the fact that his face does light up once the helmet comes off is undeniable. He may not miss the small bruises, but he’s happy to see Tony’s face nonetheless. And the glitter certainly adds something to the reveal.

Joy turns surprise once the helmet is turned around before him and Tony explains what he intends to do. “I-it can do that? I mean. Check my eyes...?” He manages, his tone baffled at the mere idea. He has considered requesting new glasses from the Agrii, but only found out that he has no idea what strength his lenses need to be. Which has turned his last visit at the replicator into a trip to fetch cigarettes rather than anything else.

He makes no move to stop Tony, should the man decide to go on. Wary as he may be about the armor, now he can’t claim not to be at least as curious about this potential solution to his problem.

A

[doubled_speed]

Oh Tony, have a bit more faith, would you? Sure, food prep was going BAD with all the glitter, but that didn't mean Tommy couldn't find solutions to some things. It had taken a lot of thought, some thick pieces of glass foraged from abandoned buildings, and a copious amount of sealing doors while he used his speed to go about the process of cleaning the diner, but he'd finally escaped.

No, the food wasn't perfect. Yes, people were probably going to be eating some glitter for a while. But life got easier when the main chef could vibrate himself, and whatever he was holding, fast enough to shed a lot of particulates. Good thing he was even nice enough to shake himself like a dog to work off what glitter he could before entering the forge.

But of course it meant Tommy needed a break, and since the stew (he refused to do anything more complex when there was glitter still happening in such copious amounts) was on to simmer, Tommy went out.

And not to the greenhouse because it would be better for EVERYONE if no one broke the seal of that place to let glitter in. Instead Tommy went to his other favorite place.

"Dr. Stark. Don't go outside. It's not fit for anything but the most flamboyant of gays outside. So, basically, Teddy and Billy."

[in_extremis]

Having entirely expected Jon to exclusively be frustrated with him, that joyous expression had Tony breathing an anxious laugh, sure his smile in return was goofier than he had meticulous trained it to be. At least Jon was kind enough to give him an easy distraction, making Tony shake his head, eyes closed thoughtfully; not a denial of the concept that Jon questioned, it just wasn't that straightforward. "It's designed to monitor everything, has to be finely tuned to my reactions, where I'm looking. And I get a lot of concussions," he explained as he very carefully fit the helmet over Jon's head, as though he was still trying not to actually let it touch Jon as much as possible. The helmet definitely wasn't made for Jon, though, so the dragging weight of it jostled awkwardly as Tony tried to hold it in place over his ears, the multitudinous panels sliding under Tony's fingers to try to shift it into something more comfortable and snug around Jon's jaw as Tony read where it touched.

It was riotously bright inside the helmet, even as Tony tried to minimize the noise for Jon, shunting widgets off to his periphery that were monitoring the status of the suit (still angrily red, trying in vain to draw his attention to the BREACH still scratched into its back), the status of Tony (likewise willfully ignored), the meandering atmospheric conditions, lists of codes and names that occasionally flashed or were accompanied by waveforms or tiny videos that must have been a whole array of communications bouncing across the city. "Just try to focus, boss," Tony instructed as he let the ongoing feeds from the D.A.T.A. installations overlooking the streets overlay the wrapping projection of the room they stood in itself, fractured as it was between the information all down the armor's body and its decapitated helmet. That probably wasn't terribly comfortable either. Tony offered a photo he took of the alien sunrise over the softly glowing waterfall on the Graq planet, then the ones he had stolen of Jon in his sleepwear just as the Countess laid her claim on him, with a private smile at the expressionless mask in between them.

A

[heeeyadora]

Catra didn't like the cold, and as much as she tried to hide her sneaking into the forge when the chill got too much, she'd be caught sleeping there by the fire more than once. She liked think they both had the decency to ignore it, but then she was awoken, first by Tony banging around, Catra groaning and trying to shut it out, nearly asleep again when she was shocked to her core by the burst of glitter and Tony's yelp.

She joined with a shriek of her own, jerking upright and bounding away from the source of all that commotion, shaking her head to try and free the glitter from her hair fruitlessly.

"What was that?!" she accused.

[beholding_archivist]

Jon wants to express his worry about Tony mentioning his tendency to get concussed, but is immediately overwhelmed by the brightness of the helmet - And all the INFORMATION suddenly surrounding him. Which he all takes in in a heartbeat, making an awed little noise, frustrated only by the bits that remain blurry to his eyes due to his lacking seeing aid.

He tries not to be disappointed when the various feeds and their onslaught of information is replaced by some more serene imagery. And those images all have a very certain sentimental value to them that Jon doesn't fail to notice or to appreciate. They help calming Jon's racing mind from its state of analyzing and interpreting all the data it has been fed with just moments ago, and while a part of him wants that actually controlled stream of knowledge back, another is fixated to glean this much more personal insight on what Tony deems worthy to take pictures of.

"You've taken pictures of me in my sleep?" No, he can't help but chuckle a little when saying this out loud. It's not an accusation, but- Sure he looks ridiculous in these clothes. It would be nice to be able to acquire something that actually properly fits him again. Seeing how even the shirt he originally arrived in Temba with is now hanging loosely around him only makes it more apparent just how thin he's gotten. He should try to change that. Especially since he knows Tony worries about it, too. And it's not fair to make him worry.

[in_extremis]

Not expecting the strange weather to produce any visitors (when had he even started expecting visitors in the first place? Tony was pretty sure he hadn't wanted anyone in the forge at all, it was his workshop, no one was allowed in there, except clearly that had changed), Tony startled at the voice from the door, knocking his head on the workbench where he had been rummaging underneath it for discarded parts. "Tomatillo," he greeted as he emerged rubbing the back of his head, holding...this wasn't what he was looking for, what was this he was holding? "I thought you'd be battling the glitter to make something edible." Maybe it wasn't so bad downtown, but there was a dusting of glitter on everything around the forge, it felt unavoidable.

"Would you call Billy flamboyant? Teddy, I can see that, the shapeshifting thing, inherently dramatic, a spectacle. A little flamboyance never hurt anybody." Tony kind of liked the glitter, anyway, despite the effect it was definitely going to have on his delicate projects' schedules, and the strange colours that it was starting to make the fire burp. "Billy, though--I mean, of the pair of you, I wouldn't say he was the flamboyant one."

[in_extremis]

"I don't know!" Tony admitted, frozen in an awkward hunch with his arm yet outstretched where most of the glitter had coated him up to the elbow. Typically, he was more than happy to give Catra her space until she went slinking away again, only occasionally sitting close enough to scratch restlessly at her ears as he muttered a stubborn code at her until he had worked it out. He wasn't interested in making a habit of exploding near her.

The flowers were gone, replaced with yet more of that pink and red glitter that was winking all throughout the forge, shotgunned straight into Catra's face and hair where the bouquet at been leaning nearby. "Uh, something's happening," Tony helpfully reported.

[in_extremis]

The question surprised Tony enough that he froze for a beat, his attempt to process it clear on the display before Jon as he filtered through records of their conversations that might have suggested Jon's sleep, or Tony's pictures, like a rapid text exchange where they organized installing the hammock recently. Of the pictures Tony had taken of Jon, also arraying and organizing quickly before his eyes, he never looked particularly impressed by the invasion, but did at least largely seem aware of Tony teasing him. If it had ever occurred to Tony to take any pictures of Jon in his sleep, he thought, he was always pressed far too close to him for that to be manageable.

"Uh, no," he answered as he tried to clear the screens for Jon again, defaulting to a projection of what he would have been seeing in front of him without the mask with only those constantly shifting reports at the edges of his vision. "I wouldn't want to share that with anyone else. Are you taking pictures of me? I get that, I bet I look stunning in my sleep, this face is a gift. Here, that's probably enough..." The armor eased its hold around Jon's chin for Tony to try to lift it gingerly away again, not sure if he really did have enough information to treat a corrective lens, but it was probably going to take a few tries, anyway.

[beholding_archivist]

Seeing the array of things and images before his eyes while Tony obviously thinks deeper than necessary about Jon's playful question, the Archivist finds himself amazed by what it is he is being presented here, maybe not even entirely willingly. And when Tony makes to remove the helmet, he closes his eyes out and holds still to not hinder the other man's actions. Blinking his eyes open again, he finds himself with a small sigh on his lips. "Christ, Tony. I- I still think you need to spend some more time out of that armor, but--" He nods towards the helmet. "This is incredible! I wish my mind and access to the things I should know were half as efficient." Add to that that Tony is a genius. A distractingly handsome genius. The man would make a much better Archivist than Jon may ever be...

"I have one picture of you, Tony. And you took that one for me." Jon offers to the other man's inquiry and lifts up his phone to show Tony its screen, still adorned with that very same selfie Tony has taken those many months before. "I like this one. Still prefer seeing you in the flesh."

[doubled_speed]

Well of course he showed up. Geez, Tony, he's totally into you in a platonic way where he's interested in using you for your science and really needs strong male rolemodels in his life.

What? It's true.

"Tomatillo. Yeah, I like that one. Make good salsa ingredients," Tommy says as he approaches slowly.

"Um, you have seen Billy's newer costume, right? Wearing fucking moving images of galaxies? It actually sheds light. Flamboyant is his thing, not mine."

[in_extremis]

With the eyes of the Iron Man going dark an inert, Tony tucked the helmet under an arm and waved the other hand dismissively, eyes rolling as he suggested, "You know, the human brain, not exactly known for being efficient..." This definitely wasn't a Jon problem, but a design flaw in the whole model that Tony wasn't impressed by. Tony was just lucky enough to have some modifications installed; he'd figure out how to more widely offer the transhuman developments just as soon as he solved the little problems like how to return this planet's native population. "We're not evolving fast enough. If we're lucky, our kids are mutants, taking huge evolutionary leaps like Tommy and Billy, but even that, listen, it's random, there's no framework for a functional social structure between them and it can't provide the kind of equality having reliable access to transhumanist technologies would be able to. Just so you could think all of the thoughts that are already there, it's obvious, think of what that kind of thing could do for someone who doesn't have access to basic, expected societal interactions because of cognitive impairments." Which one of them was supposed to be prone to rambling? Tony took a deep breath, but released it with relief to finally get something like that out of his system without Cayde to look at him like he was about to unscrew his head. Which, granted, Tony would like to.

The laugh he snorted was a breathless one then as he finally looked to Jon's phone screen, eyebrow raised at what felt like a different person from an eon ago. Some things hadn't changed, though. "Hey--that reminds me, first of all, I deserve to be photographed every day and you're neglecting me. But--that was, what, a decade ago?" He tipped his gesturing hand from side to side, give or take a few years, then pointed back to the gift on the desk. "And, okay, we haven't been, uh, doing this, that whole time, but it's still--I haven't taken you on a date, and I thought you really deserved that, but how am I supposed to take you on a proper date here? It'd be a table for nineteen, with all of the spiders, it's--not good. And so, I got that, and..." Clearly, it was the same thing as a date, even if Tony couldn't figure out how to keep talking to avoid really thinking about it.

[in_extremis]

"Yeah, you're really saucy," Tony smirked, tossing aside the mystery lump of metal onto the workbench. This wasn't where they had been working lately, and Catra was sulking somewhere up in the catwalk, so he wasn't going to make Tommy stick around, gesturing for him to follow as he headed back for the door.

"I don't think I've seen that, I think I'd remember that," he admitted, because it sounded like a far cry from all of that fabric and headpiece that Billy hid himself in. "I was pretty sure this whole thing," he gestured vaguely at the air, "was some new Agrii bullshit, but are we sure Billy isn't, uh, trying to tell us something?" It did feel a little like the flower petals Billy had made.

[beholding_archivist]

"I know what it does to people in my world, Tony. And it's not pretty." Jon shrugs, but refrains from going deeper into the Becoming of various monsters he has come to know. Instead he nods down towards the helmet again. "I like the layout you have there. It's well organized and makes the data accessible. Quite different from the mess I get when I try to- You know. Open myself. What you get there is more like... Like someone mixing the parts of several puzzles in one big bucket and throws that into your face. It's a mess. And it hurts." And despite saying this, Jon smiles and steps over to his desk at last, briefly brushing his fingers over the fit he has gotten before putting his clipboard down next to it while considering Tony's words while glittering little hearts and stars settle around his hand.

He turns back around on the spot easily, holding out one hand to catch some of the sparkling flurry in it. "Well. The Agrii certainly are setting the mood for a date I suppose. I mean... There is the diner..." Yeah, Tony is right. The options here are... Limited.

Though Jon doesn't lament on that for long as he seems to suddenly remember something and he steps back over to Tony, suddenly looking excited and reaching out to take his hand, armor or not, fully intending to pull him back up the stairs. "Oh! R-right! I- I... I need to show you something!"

Ay!

[out_of_order]

Cal knew this battle was a lost cause once he realized the glitter was falling even inside the workshop. He'd already planned to go out as it was, and the shimmering 'rain' didn't seem like it was going to let up any time soon.

The hood on his poncho at least helped to keep glitter out of his hair and from gathering in his collar, but the stuff was still stubbornly clingy. BD-1 hadn't seemed to mind it too much, the droid hanging off of the padawan's rigger harness with one foot, the other clamped about the leg of a pink plushie rendition of a certain squid-fish. As Cal approached the forge he couldn't help but chuckle a little as he saw that in spite of things, it seemed Tony was still at work.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked as he neared, absently lifting his arm as he felt BD-1 swing back up and maneuver towards it so he could have a better glimpse of what Tony was doing himself.

[doubled_speed]

"The sauciest," Tommy agrees with a grin. But the comment earns a chuckle, a very serious one.

"Nah, this isn't B. Already checked with him. And you really need to see it. Gods get the best clothes."

Which wasn't fair. Tommy's never had a uniform upgrade before.

[in_extremis]

Tony might have been too lost in his hurry to justify himself, because Jon left him squinting and trying, "...the brain...?," without any confidence that he had followed what Jon thought wasn't pretty. He didn't get any more confidence despite going, "Oh," as Jon indicated the helmet, what did that have to do with 'people in his world'?, but the rest of that he could somewhat follow. He had seen some of the external evidence of what might have been happening to Jon in those wild notes he had been writing. "Yeah, when you open yourself to a mess, you usually hope it doesn't hurt," he offered blandly, the corner of his mouth twitching only briefly into a smirk. He was already considering the helmet again himself, wondering if there was anything he could do to fix that for Jon, something more like his own system, smirk replaced by a frown at the thought of Jon regularly hurting himself like that.

The flourish of Jon twirling in the glitter caught Tony's attention again, so he wasn't totally caught unguarded when Jon reached for him, watching his glittering hand already with a fond tilt of his head. His eyebrows jumped at the excitement, but Tony was ready enough, the armor slipping away under Jon's hand and opening down the front in a meticulous folding and rotating of metal plates like a complex puzzle. Tony dropped another few inches to the floor as he finally stepped out of it, leaving it behind to stack itself, smoothly and neatly in a soft glow of repulsors, into an innocuously briefcase-sized cube next to Jon's desk, and leaving Tony in his soot-stained sweatpants and glitter rapidly coating his toes as he hurried after Jon. "Am I going to need that?" it occurred to him to ask as they made their way up the stairs, jerking his free hand back toward the suit. "Did you get yourself another pet?"

[in_extremis]

As he pushed through the door, Tony threw a look over his shoulder with pursed lips, unconvinced by this thesis. "Hardly. I didn't make it," he corrected, then considered that it was possible he might have, he didn't know who was on the Avengers team in the future and both of the kids had been somewhat cagey about it. "Did I?" No, that didn't sound like the kind of thing he would make. More confidently, "Hardly."

Most of the area around the forge was long, tall grass and a flourishing, gnarled weed system than only gave way to mushrooms and vines the closer they got to the shadier edge of the forest a few feet away. Where the fire was closest to the wall, though, meltingly hot even at its lowest embers, the growth had shied away since Tony had fixed the forge. It left the hard patch where only the most resilient of weeds grew, and now an array of glitter-collecting jars, where the vehicle they had been working on was still propped up by Iron Man, looking rather like it was cradling the project lovingly in the sparkling shimmer.

[in_extremis]

That wasn't a voice that Tony heard in the wrong side of town often, making him grin up at his work before he was pulling himself upright and trying vainly to wipe his hands off down the front of his shirt. "Listen, I'm not even sure," he admitted, hands up then in surrender to the development process. "Poe said it wasn't a bad attempt, Cayde's tried to explain how fast it should go, and I've only got so many parts. This right here, used to be my helmet, do you see that?" He brushed a hand over the chassis, which did look patchwork-soldered together at points, where much of the early melts of the armor had been cannibalized.

[out_of_order]

BD-1 hopped down from Cal's arm, pointedly setting his squid plush at the padawan's feet before wandering over to inspect Tony's glittering workspace. He'd ultimately end up in a bowl of glitter before they were done talking.

"Do you need more things to work with? I can bring some scraps and things over," Cal offered, leaning down to pick up the plush before he moved closer to the in-progress speeder-like construct. He studied the chassis as Tony had pointed out the materials used.