revivalproject | Archivist Catch-All

Entry tags:

Archivist Catch-All

WHO: Jon & YOU
WHERE: Coruscant - Various places
WHAT: Coruscant Event catch-all. Some open, some closed prompts. See what your little Eldritch avatar has been doing...
WHEN: Coruscant Event
WARNINGS: One of them includes Tony. Approach at own risk.

The Perfect Gift [ OPEN ]

Coruscant is- A lot. A lot of city, a lot of people a lot of- Everything. Even for Jon, who has been living in London for a good decade now. But even London seems unnaturally small compared to Coruscant. And yet living there has ensured that Jon isn't intimidated by crowds. In fact, he has come to find himself quite capable of adjusting himself to their situation and as he learns more about the planet and its inhabitants, Jon also learns more about how to navigate it and find that which he is looking for.

Which proves invaluable While out to acquire goods and supplies he deems useful for their inevitable return to Temba.

It's a long list Jon has for himself. A variety of clothes and footwear are on it, including some actual swimwear, equipment and supplies for his little chemistry lab, writing utensils, notepads, new variants of tea and other luxuries, a couple of handy little tools and - Gifts. And especially those gifts prove to be the difficult part. Since the person Jon is trying to find a gift for is none other than Tony. The man that tries to fix everything and constantly makes gifts for others himself. Finding a gift for such a man is harder than one might wish to think.

Apparently a selection of treats are about to become part of the assortment of gifts Jon has already picked up and he is currently studying the packaging of what may be actual chocolate. One can never go wrong with some sweets and a good wine. Jon smiles softly to himself and his attention drifts over to something that is either a futuristic bottle opener or a very peculiar toy, making him frown before reaching out to pick it up, vaguely addressing either the person next to him or no one in particular. "No idea what this is, but- I'm curious."

Being A Monster [ OPEN ]

Some may say it is ill-advised for Jon to be heading down into the lower levels of this multi-layered city. And yet here he is, his worn clothes and too large poncho making him easily melt into the crowd of beings who ignore his seeking stare. A stare that isn't seeking for difficulties with finding its target, but rather because every being down here proves to be a remarkably suited target for his needs.

He takes the easy route and turns into the next bar he passes. There are plenty of dreadful stories here for him to request, confine to memory and later record. Which will have to wait until they are back in Temba, since his tape recorder has not been brought along on this trip.

It's later that night - Or maybe early the next morning that the Archivist returns to the hotel they are all staying in. His steps swaying a little from the alcohol, but a contentment rarely seen by many on his expression. He even gives a cheerful wave to anyone else he encounters at this odd hour. "Someone is up early!"

Among Force Sensitives [ CLOSED to Obi-Wan ]

It's not without a healthy degree of trepidation that Jon walks up to the intimidating structure that he has been told to be the Jedi Temple. He is dressed in a set of new clothes, which he assumes to be local enough in style and clear of the wear and grime of the clothes he has been wearing down over the past months on Agra 10. Well fitting grey pants covering the better part of dark boots and a light, long-sleeved tunic paired with a very functional messenger bag is just one outfit the Archivist has come to pick up so far and he finds himself particularly happy to now own some footwear that isn't meant to be purely decorative while one spends the better part of the day behind a desk.

Though even his new attire doesn't fully keep Jon from pausing briefly in his steps to look up the massive building. Home and training ground of the Jedi. Jedi like Cal and Obi-Wan and Ezra. Beings sensitive to an energy field called The Force.

Beings that can sense something is not right with him.

Jon swallows once, hand tightening around the strap of his bag before he pushes forward, expression set into a stubborn set of determination. It will be fine. The Jedi Master has agreed to accompany him into the Temple, meaning Jon won't be heading in there by himself. It will be fine.

At the top of the stairs, he comes to another stop, finding himself looking up at massive columns of a height that raises questions for the Archivist. Questions he will be keeping to himself at least for the time being before taking his attention back down and looking around for the man he is supposed to meet up here at the very entrance of the Temple, muttering to himself. "...Christ. I hope he hasn't forgotten."

It's a date! [ CLOSED to Tony ]

New clothes that actually fit him and that Jon feels good in are but one of the things this planet has provided. Another thing is the chance to get his hair cut back to a more reasonable length, get the items required for a decent shave and of course have a proper bath. Small luxuries that add noticeably to Jon feeling human again. And to provide him with the confidence to ask Tony out for a proper date. How many chances like this will they get anyway?

The beings tending to their needs at their hotel have been quite helpful to him with setting everything up and recommending the right places not too far away. From a good, rather exclusive restaurant high up in a tall spire looming over Coruscant's upper level along with similar, yet distant skyscrapers and providing an excellent view to an artificially created and very unique park at the very base of said spire to the suggestion of a sensual and very private message provided by specially programmed droids up in their hotel's poshest suite offered by the beings in charge of the hotel tending to their guest's needs. Being that are remarkably eager to please this easy source of good credits. And after all these months on Agra 10, Jon has very little qualms about spending what the Agrii provide them with.

Having arrived a little early, Jon has already been seated at one of the rather few tables the restaurant actually possesses. All set apart and separated with strategically placed pots filled with colorful alien flora and a stunning view out of the large windows making up the entire outer walls of the place. A soft tune hangs in the air that Jon listens idly to while looking out of the window, over the city and every once in a while daring a glance down, feeling a bit thankful that Mike Crew hasn't instilled an even greater fear of heights into him. His hands are loosely clasped in front of him on the table, having very little to do at the moment.

When he hears a set of footsteps approaching, Jon turns his attention away from the window to greet who he assumes to be Tony with a gently, yet genuine smile.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There was no way for Tony to take a compliment like that graciously, but he did so as graciously as he was capable of, which was a cocky smile that only amplified how little he needed to be told. It lingered as he poured himself into his seat, legs crossed primly but fingers immediately finding a cloth napkin to twist and crease restlessly on the table before him as he watched Jon raptly, unheeding of the expansive window and whatever magnificent view was supposed to win his attention. The shrug he gave for the thanks managed to be more humble, it really was an impulse buy among the array of jewellery he was offered to complete his own look, not wanting to turn up empty handed, but he did grin to have it so well received. "Should we cut our losses now...?" Tony proposed, twisting in his seat like he might get right back up and leave while the date was still good, before he did whatever he definitely was going to do to ruin it.

The waiter appearing eased him back, cutting the joke short to a glittering smile Jon's way that faltered but didn't quite drop at the unmistakable, even a dimension away, champagne flute. He could at least play along, raising the glass with a slightly more guarded expression in response, to chime against Jon's before shoving it quickly to the side and up against the window. "My pleasure," he covered with, talking quickly. "I have high expectations, you know, I've never in my life waited this long for a first date, you better make it count. Wait, hold on--" It occurred to him only after it was out of his mouth that they could play with that, and shifted pointedly in his seat again, sitting up straighter like he wasn't nearly as comfortable and said, "It's so nice to finally meet you."

Jon raises his brows in response to Tony's fidgeting and those little displays of anxiety the man can't exactly hide. "Tony, wha-" Jon starts asking, the slightest prickling brush of his compulsion ghosting across the back of Tony's neck before Jon cuts himself off with a little shake of his head before he tries again, raising his eyes to meet Tony's. "I just want to share a nice evening with you, Tony. Make use of this chance we were given and- Enjoy a few luxuries while we can." No, he certainly isn’t above spending some money on a few pleasantries after months of living in a ruined alien city.

He exhales and looks down to his own glass at last, only now realizing that his fingers have been toying with it this entire time. “Let’s just relax. I.... For once I don’t want to think about gathering information or supplies or preparing for when we inevitably head back to Temba. And I want to spend some time with you. Which- Well. It may be initially selfish, but I want to believe you are fine with the idea.” Otherwise Tony wouldn’t have come.

The bare ghost of a chuckle escapes the Archivist. “Heh. I actually felt nervous when I sent out that invite to you. But now I’m glad I did. I feel... Good. About it- Even myself. I’m more used to practically being crushed by doubts.”

The itch that had Tony raising a hand to his neck, where it remained hooked with his fingers working idly along his spine, felt to Tony like just another symptom of anxiety that had him slouching back into his seat when it was clear that Jon wasn't interested in playing with him, and finally looking out the window to absently consider the skyline while Jon lectured him on how he should be feeling. Everything Jon said kind of sounded like a lecture. Not that he was in any way wrong; Tony hadn't wasted any time before indulging in those luxuries himself. This cologne wasn't exactly a survival tactic. It should be marvellous to just spend time with Jon, where Tony just had to perform incredibly well on this first chance to have a real, pre-apocalyptic date, with his boyfriend, in public, where they were not immediately aware of the constant spectre of death that probably made him a very welcome distraction. What did he have to be worried about?

Jon's familiar doubts were what got Tony to meet his eye again apologetically for threatening that rare peace, and lean forward onto one elbow on the table as he reached the other hand with a crawling tentativeness toward Jon. "I'm still nervous," he admitted, as though Jon couldn't practically taste it. "Not, listen, because I don't want to be here," he quickly amended before Jon got the wrong idea, sweeping his balancing hand restlessly across the tablecloth. "It's just, I've thought about what this would be, a lot, too much, and in most of those futures we're not still here, we're back on Earth and we're, y'know, so--And we're probably in London, because its my jet, so its probably raining, hell, it's a storm, and it knocks the power out at the restaurant, but its fine because they light all of the candles and treat everyone to a gazpacho and a dessert while we all wait for it to blow over. But we've got tickets to a show, so we take a chance, but by the time we hail a cab we're already soaked, so we go back to your place instead where we can light our own candles and there doesn't have to be anything between us so I can kiss you wherever while you tell me about your scars and I tell you about constellations." He was still talking, Tony was very aware of that, and he was grateful despite jumping up when the waiter reappeared so he could redirect and ask for a glass of water. He was obviously fine with the idea.

It's nice to see Tony talk at last. To really talk. No games, no fooling around. Which are both also parts of Tony Jon can enjoy, but often they can be a little frustrating. But right now he's just being honest, sharing his thoughts and in doing so admitting that Jon is on his mind even when they aren't spending time with one another.

And maybe it's that little detail that brings about that little blush on Jon's cheeks that has him look down on the table briefly to let his eyes follow the movement of Tony's reaching hand first, then the more restless one before looking back up and taking one of his hands off his glass to place it into Tony's reaching one.

"I like those thoughts." Jon decides, feeling himself smiling fondly. "Remind me not to bring an umbrella when we head out for a date in London." Not an if, of course. They will work it out. Different worlds, different dimensions, it doesn't matter.

Jon lets Tony withdraw his hand at the appearance of the waiter if he wishes to and on his end will give the man the go ahead with the menu as well. Once the waiter has left again, Jon's attention returns to Tony. Had Tony opted to draw his hand away, Jon's won't have left its spot on the table. "I don't believe I ever mentioned it, but- I have admired your hands since the first time we met in person. O-obviously not the first time we talked. That one rather left an impression on my camera, but- Your hands, Tony. I like to hold them. To feel them. Their warm, firm pressure against my skin..." Is this a weird thing to say? Jon doesn't exactly care. He just lets those words sit for a moment, watching Tony. "And they are only a small part of you I love. And I don't mind going into detail about every single one." Which he deems preferable to talking about his scars.

Tony was glad to direct his restless energy through the lacing of their fingers together and an idle dance of his fingertips along Jon's knuckles, never quite going still until he did opt to draw away, hiding both hands under the table as though guilty at the waiter's appearance but shooting Jon a glittering, conspiratorial look that suggested he had just been narrowly saved from Tony promising all kinds of inventive ways to get him wet. They weren't supposed to draw any more attention, nevermind poetry.

The conspiratorial smile lingered, becoming inquisitive as Tony tilted his head at Jon feeling like Tony might not have noticed his fixation. Tony wouldn't have described it as admiration so much as Jon quickly figuring out how to redirect Tony's attention, having never had anyone express any particular fondness for his callouses and burns, and more often than not bleeding knuckles. It wasn't exactly Tony's good side, so his smile grew wider with a new, anxious heat in his cheeks as Jon paused, eyebrows raised, yeah, it was a little weird. At least they had that in common.

"Yeah, well, my head might literally burst if you do, it's already up there, so maybe hold back a little," he suggested with a laugh in his voice that he hoped was enough to distract from how much he wouldn't know what to do with that, hand up to weigh the swell of his ego on one side that almost touched the window. "Why are you...?" he started, twisting a finger in the air to try to formulate the question without it sounding accusatory, but Jon had to also be very aware of how much the Jon of that first meeting he mentioned would be scandalized by everything he had just said. "Is this someone anyone else gets to see?" he landed on, only realizing once it was out that he might not have wanted to know the answer to that question.

And Jon would have listened to all those ways and compiled them to memory in a neat little checklist to check back later which ones of the list Tony opts to follow up with.

But for now he gets a laugh from Tony that warms Jon's chest and he glances away for a moment with a wide smile on his face to let the feeling settle. He looks back in time to catch Tony's question. It has Jon pull his own hand towards himself, but only to clasp it together with his other one while he remains silent for a moment, then nod.

"I... I'm working on it." Jon starts, his voice low and his words chosen deliberately. "Right now it's not many. The ones I trust. The ones I care about. A while ago I- I made the decision to trust my friends. It was... After I learned about the monster that replaced one of my assistants. Its presence affected me deeply and I had grown more and more paranoid and mistrusting of everyone around me. Damaged some of the few friendships I had and- yes." He falls silent for a moment, allowing his own thoughts to dwell for a while on the matter.

Then he continues. "When I came to Temba and only days later found myself on Risa, I had no idea what was happening. For all I knew I could be dealing with just another monster playing with my perception of reality. Being defensive and mistrusting still was an easy shoe to slip into - So I did." Another pause and Jon lets out a sigh before settling with a little smile again. "Some were met with more mistrust than others, I suppose, but by now I have come to the conclusion that I can trust those the Agrii bring to Temba. I can be honest with them and don't have to hide what I am. I can trust them. And I can trust you."

There is another short pause and Jon unfolds his hands again to open them back up before him, smile widening into a wider, more open one. "Just don't worry, Tony. I'm not telling everyone about which parts of them I admire and why. They are my friends and I value them as such. Any of these closer studies are solely concentrated on you."

Making Jon drop his voice like that had Tony sitting forward again, both hands up like he might have stopped Jon from going any further so they could go back to the smiling at each other thing, but he couldn't quite bring himself to interrupt with whatever distraction fell out of his mouth first. Instead, he dropped his hands to the table again as Jon spoke, curled loosely over his elbows where he leaned forward and could pluck idly at the seams of his sleeves. It sounded to Tony like Jon came by that mistrust honestly, and he wasn't so sure anyone should be trusting each other in Temba as much as Jon thought, making Tony's brow furrow with concern, even if he wanted to be worth Jon's trust.

It smoothed quickly with a surprised snort at Jon's reassurance of his uniquely admirable nature, mirroring Jon's open hands slightly by turning his upward where he had folded them to accept his burden. Only, when he opened his mouth then, he hesitated like that for a beat, scanning the tablecloth for what he meant to say. What eventually came out was, "I'm an alcoholic," with a point toward the abandoned drink, evidently, then he had to recalculate again. "I don't like to tell people that, not because I'm ashamed--" Not entirely sure how true that was, Tony was frowning again, but managed to get back on track, "but I don't trust people very easily. Either." It seemed like Jon was managing to work through that, and it might have just been that Tony was lagging behind in that development, but he had to admit, "I don't like that so many people seem to know what you can...do. Maybe that's not just, you know, whatever personality defect that is, maybe that's just where I'm from. That kind of thing--we wear masks. It's safer."

Jon's attention is directed over to the glass Tony hasn't touched since setting it aside and his mouth forms a muted 'Oh.' of understanding. "I- I wasn't aware." He admits, but quickly settles back into a smile. A smile that underlines a little blush on Jon's cheek "Thank you for sharing this with me, Tony. Guess I will be making a few adjustments to the beverage selection for tonight when your water arrives. Any requests?" The almost apologetic smile turns into an earnest one and Jon adds: "It's admirable that you maintain your resolve even away from Earth. I support that. And I will gladly support you as well." And it's with those words that Jon reaches out once more to take a hold of one of Tony's hands and squeeze it reassuringly.

The smile remains, but it softens in regard to Tony voicing his worries. "I don't believe a mask will do me any good. Or keeping secrets. Not on Agra 10. Not in a group as small as ours. And wearing a mask in London generally feels like a bad idea." Jon's voice actually sounds a little amused by the idea. "But my Earth isn't used to masked heroes actually rescuing people or saving the day as you already know. Maybe if it were... But then we'd have devastating street battles between heroes and monsters. Because the traffic in London isn't already dreadful without them."

He sets that mental image aside with a small shrug. "I will be fine, Tony. But I'm happy to know you care."

Tony tried to shrug off any apology and whatever supportive thing that Jon was trying to do, because he had only offered the revelation as an example, he thought, need to know basis, even if the need was only a little awkwardness, and perhaps a little bit because Jon had inspired some attempt at trust that Tony hadn't exactly been generous with thus far. The support was nice, though, or maybe it was just Jon taking Tony's hand again that corrected the behaviour, making Tony wrap the other hand around Jon's as well in a faintly desperate clutch, feeling a tension that had been clutching as tightly around his heart ease out of him in a breath. Okay, maybe he did need that support, and Tony's shrug and shake of his head became an answer for his beverage requests, it didn't really matter, as he tried to play off his capture of Jon's hand by methodically pressing it to the table like a pinned butterfly for Tony to examine while he nudged Jon's sleeve up to walk his fingers up his wrist. His resolve hadn't exactly been that admirable. The need for Jon to know that much was far more distant, though.

The point, anyway, hadn't really been the masks, though what costume Jon might wear and the havoc he would cause in London by speaking very sternly to rampaging monsters did make Tony snicker. No, it was the secrets that could be used to hurt them, and how little control Tony thought he had over Jon's as more people found out that he might have been a little dangerous. Tony was still focused on Jon's wrist when he tried to swallow that anxiety and admitted, "I know, you're always fine and no one's done anything yet, but..." No one had done anything, it should have ended there, and Jon was probably right to trust the people of Temba. There had been plenty of trust between Wanda and the Avengers, too, though. "I am glad you're, you know, not going to kill me for flirting with you," he amended, because so far the benefits of Jon's decision to trust were definitely outweighing the negatives. "Because I would be haunting you by now and still trying to tell you to show me your ass in those pants, I'd have unfinished business. Can you see ghosts, is that one of your things? That's Cal's thing."

It's curious to watch Tony grasp his hand and seemingly distract himself by holding on to it tightly at first, then hold it down. Jon doesn't fully understand Tony's reason for doing any of this, but it remains endearing to see those hands he has just been praising being so occupied with one of his.

Of course he's aware of the true danger being the repercussions for having one's secrets revealed. He is literally the avatar of the very fear of this happening and has come to understand that much at least. Which is but one reason for him to refuse to succumb to this particular terror himself. He is already feeding his patron in various other ways, but by simply informing those around him about what he us, he has found a fairly easy and yet very effective ways to not having to fear about being found out and what may or may not happen when it happened.

Because nothing happened. And that clarity has helped Jon to find a modicum of peace back in Temba at least.

He still nods at the but. "I know. Things can happen and people can change their minds and the moment fear comes into play-" He sighs. "But I will have to cross that bridge shall I find myself before it. I will hope and trust that you are waiting below it to catch me in case I fall, Tony."

Letting this sit there, Jon's eyes shift up and away from watching their hands to catch Tony's eyes again instead, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I can't see ghosts, I'm afraid. And I- I'm aware that I am not always the most receptive one to be flirted with. It's still not something I want to hurt you over. Also I... I may have acquired a few pairs of new pants here that actually fit me well enough if I'm one to judge. They should meet your approval."

That Jon seemed to understand without Tony having to completely burn the evening down with this anxiety eased his tension enough to let Tony lift one hand away and prop his chin in it instead of hanging onto Jon as a lifeline, watching him with fond appreciation in the pinch of his concern as he continued his blind trace over the planes of Jon's wrist. It wouldn't stop sounding like Jon was sprinting right off of the bridge himself, but Tony still smiled behind the cage of his fingers and promised, "Unconditionally."

'Not always the most receptive' was an incredibly generous take on how Jon was capable of reacting, making Tony widen his eyes and suck in a breath through his teeth before breaking into a chuckle. It had certainly seemed like hurting Tony would have been satisfying more than once, and it hadn't exactly scared Tony off since he was still here on this wildly alien planet with his attention still on Jon, kicking his dangling foot restlessly and cocking his head with a coy flutter of his lashes like he was about to test how sure Jon was about that pronouncement. "We'll have to do some extensive testing, just to be sure," he agreed with a more shameless grin about admiring whatever Jon thought was going to earn his attention that dropped with a groan of disappointment as he realized, "I can't believe you went shopping without me. Who were you showing off to? Who was handing you lingerie over the door? Who did you even make out with in the changing room? Ridiculous."

The promise fills Jon's chest with a by now familiar, yet never unwelcome warmth. The chuckle? Is a treat. One that Jon also enjoys whenever he finds himself gifted with it. It's sweeter when the reason for it is tied to something he has done or said, of course.

That grin? Now that is a promise for trouble and Jon finds himself remotely aware of that not necessarily subtle warning, blushing a little at the suggestion. Though it's when the grin drops and Tony puts his disappointment into words that Jon is left sputtering in that by now possibly all too familiar fashion.

"W-wha-? N-no! That didn't-- Jesus Christ, Tony!" Granted, he does break into a flustered little chuckle of guilty embarrassment halfway through his protest. It settles mostly after a moment, allowing Jon to cast a tiny smirk over in Tony's direction. At least he looks apologetic. "Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but- I hadn't known it means that much to you to watch me try on new clothes. I mean. I genuinely hate having to try them on, but figuring out the local seizing proved... Problematic."

Secure again in the knowledge that he could still get under Jon's skin and it was welcome, Tony finally relaxed back in his seat instead of leaning over his arms, ever restless but not pinned by tension wicked away in Jon's laugh. "So, you're telling me a was a real process, you were working up a sweat, and it didn't occur to you once that I would be disappointed? You wound me," he pouted, then was quickly smiling again with ease. The meticulously effortless image definitely worked against him as he admitted, "I hate it, too. Standing there, getting measured and pinned, I always feel like I'm right back to getting my uniform fitted for school, and there's nothing about me that I can hide. Soft, is how my dad would put it, but I was also too small, younger than everybody else, I don't fit in the space right, it's not the clothes that aren't fitting." His gaze had wandered as he tried to articulate something that hadn't quite locked into place yet until he was trying to play at his Earth life on this alien planet, then his attention snapped back onto Jon to add, "But having somebody to dress you, that's different, that kind of care makes up for all of the scrutiny. I haven't had a girlfriend yet that wouldn't spend hours in a change room with me."

"Oh, I- I don't doubt that." Jon utters, trying to will the growing heat out of his face. "I... I generally avoided change rooms. Just knew my sizes and went to the local thrift shop to pick out a few pieces I knew would fit me. The only times I ever had clothes get adjusted was when I was a kid and my grandmother brought back a few pieces that were too large. Though she always made sure to make the adjustments in a way that let her easily undo them so I wouldn't outgrow my clothes too quickly." Now here on this alien planet finds himself in the position to actually buy entirely new clothes for the first time in a long while.

Jon looks down at the table for a moment, then back up at Tony. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you if you wanted to come along. But- We can do another trip together if you want to. It won't be uniform fitting, but- I did want to get some proper swimwear before we go back so- So that we can go to the beach." Just an offer, of course.

The gulf of their experiences wasn't in any way a revelation, so it wasn't a tension that had Tony sitting up in his seat again, but he did smile apologetically for complaining about being pampered, and nodded slowly because it wasn't that he was entirely out of touch. It left him watching Jon curiously, trying to picture him in baggy pants with the hems pinned up and scowling at a police officer who had been led to believe this disturber of the peace was an innocent missing child, so he was surprised into jumping slightly and raising his hands to refuse the apology. Jon hadn't quite figured out when Tony was just teasing him.

Swimwear was an interesting proposal, however. "I don't know, I didn't think the one you had was that bad," he said with a renewed, devious smirk. There wasn't much to improve on their last swim, anyway, any options would be disappointing. "Do you think these guys know what that is?" he had to abandon his teasing to ask, hand up to point vaguely out the window and the fairly weird sartorial culture. Cal had seemed pretty comfortable swimming in his clothes after all. "They don't have any underwear, did you notice that? Maybe they're all about nude bathing, too. You should check with Obi-Wan, I bet that would be a super comfortable and normal conversation. You want to go to the beach?"

Jon doesn't even bother attempting to hide those burning ears of his at the little reminder of their last little swim. Which, by far, isn't one of Jon's worst memories ever since the Agrii have kidnapped him. And yet the tight-lipped glare and raised brow are still being directed at Tony in response.

"You are overestimating by exhibitionistic needs, Tony." Jon sighs, taking a sip of his own drink. "Personally I prefer to reserve certain privileges for my boyfriend." He adds, his expression relaxing again. "Also I don't believe everyone of our friends would appreciate to stumble upon me being entirely naked. What if Catra shows up? Besides, you have your golden full-body suit, so it doesn't exactly feel... Fair. Unless I bring my diving suit to the beach."

Oh, he is perfectly aware that his cheeks haven't stopped burning despite his best attempts to address the idea calmly. Jon tries exhaling once more and follows Tony's gaze out of the window, nodding with some regret. "...but I have noticed, yes. The local idea of underwear is surprisingly lacking. I found a few pieces I might wear."

Jon had a whole lot of words to dedicate to this protest that he could have easily swept away in the torrent of Tony's questions, and it was perhaps in some universe polite that Tony leaned forward again with his chin in his hand to hang on to every one with a nod of encouragement and fangy grin. Exhibitionistic needs, he definitely heard that part, somewhere under the roaring fire that was Jon's face. Between that and the glare, the response that Tony had for him was, "You're really cute, you know that?"

He must have, because there was no way he wasn't goading Tony into asking to see his new underwear, making Tony's teasing grin crack into a laugh. He got the jump on Tony at his own game. "I didn't," he replied, the consonants rolled quick enough to be the rumble of a purr with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows, then lifted his head out of his hand enough to point a thumb over his shoulder. "You wanna go swap?"

"I'm not-" And that's all of Jon's protest that actually makes it out of his mouth before the look on Tony's face along with that effortless and almost innocently offered question cut him off from his train of thought and Jon finds himself staring, moth half-open and mind helpfully providing the visuals to that question.

Jon snaps his mouth shut after a new layer of crimson has settled around his ears and he exhales through his nose while the waiter glides back to their table in unostentatious politeness, serves them each a small, tasteful plate of appetizers along with an expensive looking glass and a matching carafe of water for Tony.

It's only by the time the waiter if drifting away again that Jon reacquires his voice. "-right. I... Now I will be thinking about that all evening, won't I."

While Jon slowly burned to ash on the other side of the table, Tony was all polite smiles and thanks for the waiter, who did a very well practiced job of not noticing Jon was broken. It was almost disappointing then that Jon didn't go back to glaring for the humiliation, but that was such a defeated way to admit to his curiosity that Tony was snickering again with another apologetic furrow of his brow. "I hope it doesn't ruin your plans," he said, very unconvincingly around a lingering smirk. "You've been doing so well so far, for a guy who doesn't date. Fancy restaurant, champagne..." Okay, they weren't that far in, leaving Tony's hand open without anything else to add to the list of classic date mainstays, but he'd seen some plans begin and end there. Solid start. Most dates where he had been the one asked would have him in ropes in a creepy basement by now. "You might even be on track for a kiss by the end of the night, if you're a gentleman."

"If it depends on whether or not we swap undergarments I may have to make a few adjustments, but I want to remain hopeful." Jon responds with a a little nudge of his finger against the frame of his glasses as he directs his attention to the plate before him and studies the gathering of good-looking and yet impossible to identify little bites.

He picks up a small fork and with it picks one of the pieces before raising his eyes back to Tony. "A nice meal a little walk under an artificial sky, an invigorating massage... I admit I had some help." And he shrugs lightly. He's trying. At least he sees room for whichever activities may lead to swapped underwear. Existing or nonexisting one.

Dinner and a walk remained classics, but the massage had Tony raising his eyebrows, sure that wasn't a very confident euphemism from the way Jon was still squirming over the underwear. That wasn't a typical experience that Tony shared on a date, anyway, and maybe it was the journey and the hotel and the luxury compared to what had become daily life in Temba, but Tony asked, "Is this the honeymoon? Already? I guess I owe you an apology, it seems I am very late to the wedding." It was already out before Tony realized that might have sounded discouraging to Jon's effort, and he raised a hand preemptively to stop Jon from sputtering over it like that, it was just a joke, then touched his heart in appreciation for the thought. He redirected, "I should thank them," trying to sound more sincere than he usually did so Jon knew who Tony meant to offer his adoration, but head tilted inquisitively in the hope that Jon would tell him who this romantic was that helped him plan. Whether that actually would result in a thanks or Tony withering in anxiety depended on who Jon was sharing these details with.

Having them both combust would be disastrous, so Tony's tone didn't even change in the one breath he took before he continued, "We could get it out of the way, if you want, you know, just so you can plan around it. Start counting. When you hit 30, come join me in the bathroom."

Jon does, indeed, tense up for a moment, frozen in place while his mind tries to figure out what he has done wrong. But all the impending self-accusations come to a halt of their own at the gesture that follows the comment and his heart dares to take another beat when Tony mentions his own gratitude. His heart picks up on speed while Jon's fork is lowered back to his plate and he raises the hand again to scratch his neck lightly, just below his ear. "I- ah... I just... I asked the porter of our hotel if they knew a nice place and... Turns out the hotel employs someone to assist in setting up private events? A- An elderly Twi'lek. Mr. Nuro. Very enthusiastic, made some calls and set everything up."

Removing the hand form his neck, Jon uses it to motion for Tony to please remain seated while his other hand clenches around the edge of the table in a display of growing nervousness. A nervousness that transitions neatly into Jon's next words coming out as something closer to a sharpened whisper. "I- I don't think that's a good idea, Tony!"

Having a private event planner didn't make the effort seem any less grand than a honeymoon, so while Tony was relieved it hadn't been someone they knew now intimately aware of their evening plans, getting help from a friend would have meant Tony didn't suddenly feel a lot of pressure to preform again. Quick, what did a normal date in a nice restaurant feel like? Stiff and weird, mostly. Would he have teased anyone else with a bathroom quickie? Maybe, Tony wasn't sure now, but he was certainly responding automatically to that sharp tone, "What, you want to do it right here? I don't know if I can be that quiet, but we could probably tell the waiter to leave us alone until we ask for him again, you minx."

To be fair, Tommy probably would have been just as happy to scout out nearby places and arrange for something for them. And unlike alien assistants, Tommy will be around in Temba as well.

Though for now Jon is back to staring widely at Tony, mouth slowly opening to say something and not entirely sure just how well prepared he has been for this. "..ah...."

The expression lasts a couple more moments before Jon's mouth snaps back shut without him having produced anything meaningful and sets into a determined stubbornness. "Fine." Is all Jon finally settles with, tone still sharp. He pushes his chair back and gets up to crisply walk around the table, eyes never leaving Tony. It's a quick few steps before he is next to the other man, and holds out one hand for Tony to take.

That had effectively offended Jon, or so Tony thought and let Jon have his stretch of silence with a coy grin until it was enough to get him to snap, literally. Instead of the snap, or lecture, or even a hiss of warning that Tony was anticipating, though, Jon was...leaving? That was a fucking roller coaster. From that determined set of Jon's jaw that had Tony's grin brightening briefly and betraying his delight at getting even better than he was hoping for, that look, and Jon exactly where he wanted him to hopefully needle just enough to maintain the kind of frustration that he was going to have to unload on Tony the second they were behind closed doors--he really thought the closed doors were a necessary component, so when Jon stood up, the only reason Tony could see was that Tony had pushed too far too fast, and not that Jon was going to ask for Tony to join him.

It was more impulse than understanding that had Tony taking Jon's offered hand obediently, and it was his turn to utter stupidly, "Uh." He took the hand more like a gift, in both of his, than the demand it was, so his move to actually stand as well was belated. The only thing he could think to say when he did, though he was still resolutely staring at the stubborn line of Jon's mouth and had not once looked away to check, was, "Those pants do look great, you look great, great choice."

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