revivalproject | Archivist Catch-All

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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

Tony wasn't sure if the squeeze was comforting, either, because he didn't know exactly what the comfort was for. It felt irrationally selfish that he felt--whatever this feeling was--at all, neither of them were even his Captain America. But it was all going to fall apart without him. But maybe it was better that they weren't here, they could have been in a place that they actually wanted to be, that place that Steve had told Tony that they meant to make their new lives together. But Tony had no real idea what happened to them. But it could happen to any of them at any second.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, easing Jon back to stalk stiffly away before he had whatever panic attack it was that he could feel ratcheting up his spine, the emotional outburst he was not supposed to have here already burning behind his eyes. It was fine, he was fine, he wheeled around again on his heel before he was even too far to reach for Jon again, apologetically. Where was he going to go, a bar? "I should have noticed," he said, then gestured between them, "You shouldn't have had to do this, I'm sorry, this was--" He tried to turn that gesture up into a wave at the room, this well planned event that Jon had put together for them not for Tony to completely mess up, but he made the mistake of looking up toward the ceiling as well and was left pressing the heel of his hand to his eye.

“Tony...” Jon says softly, anything but blind to Tony’s pain. “Don’t go. It’s- It’s alright.” He reaches out to touch Tony’s elbow, letting his fingers linger there.

“I- I admit this isn’t what this evening was supposed to be, but- I still meant it to be for us. I still want to be there for you and- I can protect you here. I can provide you a safe space.” He nods faintly towards the rest of the room where, in fact, there are still other people around. “...I’m already making sure neither of them acknowledges our presence.” And it’s true. Despite the undeniable presence of other beings, no one has shown any reaction of what has been happening between them during these past couple of minutes.

After swallowing once after admitting that he has been using his powers to ensure them some privacy, Jon exhales, eyes fixed on Tony. “But I’m am here. I’m here for you alone. Please let me help you, Tony. Please don’t run.” As he speaks, Jon raises his hands towards Tony’s head, ready to cradle the man close and help him fend off his grief.

The best way that Tony could think to describe the impression of looking out over the room and realizing no one in it was really aware of him was eerie. He didn't know Jon could do that, and he stared out at the restaurant while his vision blurred, wavering instinctively into Jon's reach and trying to decide how he felt about that. Steve would have hated it, Tony knew that immediately, and kind of wished he could hate it, too, so he could be angry with Jon and have something he understood and could do something about. What was he supposed to about this? Besides the very thing he had been trying to do since the whole thing started, only now he had to do it without Steve.

The anger was definitely there, but what Tony could muster toward Jon as he bowed into that embrace to press his face into Jon's shoulder was a clench of his fists in Jon's shirt at his sides. He really didn't know how to do this when he wasn't alone, where he could break whatever he wanted to feel like he had something to fix. Too restless to settle there, Tony asked, "Can we get out of here?," already lifting away and fishing his glasses out of his pocket to push up his nose before he even tried to meet Jon's eye. It wasn't really a question, Tony was swinging around and searching for anything that might slow Jon down to make it no longer a problem, muttering, "Sorry, are you hungry? Here," and tipping his plate of untouched appetizer into a napkin before Jon could answer. "We can pick something up, we can order something. There's probably a McDonalds out here, please, they wouldn't leave a market untapped. Got those weird, local menu items, though, you know, when you go to a McDonalds in Japan and its like, okay, I don't hate this, but I didn't come here for teriyaki sauce, I'm homesick."

Jon holds Tony close for the moment the other man lets him, awfully aware of the tension winding up within him and feeling his own guts tie into a knot at seeing the man he loves in such a state.

It's not a surprise that Tony pulls away after only a few moments and even less so that he is starting to get restless and push for them to leave. Jon just nods at the question. It's a cautious nod while he maintains a watchful eye on Tony. "We can. Where do you want me to take you, Tony?" He follows his answer with a question and moves to be next to Tony again, one hand on his arm, the other on his back.

The touch should have been reassuring, but the way Jon did it and how he phrased the question made Tony feel like Jon expected him to shake apart, which definitely made it worse and Tony was already self-conscious enough. He clicked his tongue in irritation, shoulders up defensively as he shrugged Jon away from fussing to pointedly drape an arm over his shoulders instead. They could at least walk out of here looking somewhat normal and not like Tony was very much retreating from the chemical spill that was that conversation. "You said we had a walk, let's walk," he answered, clipped and irritable, but the retreat was effective. His hackles dropped to ease him against Jon the further they got from the table, and by the time they were in the elevator and the doors slid shut into a reassuringly isolated chamber, he could slouch back against the cool wall and let out a slow, measured breath.

"I'm fine," he said there, aware that it might have been the most obviously untrue than it ever had, but if Jon could play along, it would help. A moment later, his voice shakier because it wasn't nearly as natural for him to say, but with his gaze still on the ceiling and Jon pulled against his chest in the hold around his neck, Tony could manage, "I'm scared," and that was about as far as he could go before he had to sniff and abandoned trying to articulate those multitude of fears.

Well, acting normal it is, apparently. Which Jon can do and he nods his agreement with Tony’s request, walking with him to the elevator. Walking is fine...

Inside the elevator and with being pulled close by Tony, Jon closes his eyes for a moment to let out an exhale of his own, letting go of the admittedly clumsy compulsion effect he had fabricated to keep the people’s interest averted. Jon opens his eyes again in time to hear Tony’s words and all he can do is give a little nod.

He knows.

Of course he does.

And he doesn’t like it.

“...I know.” Is his response, unclear whether it is directed at Tony’s claim to be fine, or his admission of being afraid.

Jon takes a deep breath and steadies his own voice before tilting his head in a way that lets him look up at Tony. His voice is firm and decided when he speaks again. “I love you, Tony. And I won’t leave you. If they separate us, I will find you. You know that I will.”

Of the fears Tony was grappling with, that was a big one, all the more menacing in how completely intractable it felt when he didn't even know what mountain he would have to move to begin to find Steve right now, but--it was nice to hear, Tony could try to narrow his focus, it was nice to hear and he did his best to return the sentiment by shifting his hold around Jon to curl his fingers into his hair and keep him steady for a peppering of kisses to his crown. Nuzzling there and trying his best to believe Jon did satisfy the gnawing dread of the pit Tony could feel gasping in his chest, rent open by an impending loneliness and starving, Jon's assurance putting up a scaffold against a complete collapse. That fear of his ever demanding sobriety felt sickly selfish, but so was wanting to have Steve or Jon here, Tony realized, when they could have been delivered safely home. Not wanting either of them to be gone was in direct conflict with not wishing this on either of them, and Tony didn't want to directly confront which one was more true.

"Tell me about your friend," he stumbled into, realizing how vague that sounded as it came out, like he had someone specific in mind that Jon should have been able to intuit. He hadn't really said anyone specific earlier, just that his behaviour had effected several people that he regretted. "Your best friend," Tony tried to clarify, which wasn't exactly what he had meant in the first place, because he didn't know who he would call his best friend and had the impression that this would be embarrassing to admit to Steve or anyone else. It would get Jon to talk, anyway.

Were the affections bestowed upon him that moment tied to different circumstances than Tony having an anxious breakdown, then Jon could and would have enjoyed them. But he can't not notice the man's balancing act between a horrendous meltdown and just barely holding himself together. And he can understand those fears. Jon, also, doesn't want to lose Tony.

With his own arms around Tony as best as possible, shoved under that cape to let his fingers run small, soothing circles across Tony's lower back, Jon finds himself considering the question left to him.

His... Best friend. Now there is a concept, isn't it. He takes a deep breath before he starts talking.

"Friends were never something I have had in abundance. Social interactions, social connections, those were simply never something I had much interest in. And after finishing university, I didn't maintain any meaningful contact with people I used to at least talk to every once in a while. I had a job, I had a place to stay and it never really occurred to me that heading out and meeting people should be something for me to have an interest in. And your coworkers usually aren't people you consider friends. At least I didn't."

"Tim... Didn't share that mentality. An outgoing extrovert that would spent hours chatting and flirting with whoever crossed his path. Somehow he still did his job as a researcher for the Institute well enough and only ever got in trouble for minor offenses. When I joined as a researcher myself, he- He decided we would be friends. Because he was friends with everyone and by no means would he endure having some moody little recluse spend his lunch in peace and quiet by himself to read a book. Instead I had him invade my personal space whenever he saw a chance and he wouldn't stop bothering me to join him and some other coworkers at the pub after work. I did my best to genuinely hate those evenings, but even though I hardly engaged with most of the people he dragged along, it was tolerable. I even enjoyed it at times. At that time we may have been actual friends. He looked out for me, made sure I went home on time and got some sleep and I made sure he didn't overdo whatever shenanigans he got into his head."

And that's where Jon stops. No need to wrap a perfectly normal story up with it ending with both of them down in the Archives and blowing up an evil circus. An explosion only one of them survived. Tony may recall parts of that from their time in the tunnels anyway.

Tony could piece it together. How strongly Jon had seemed to react to Tony in particular--and the emotional slip up that had him calling Tony by his friend's name certainly helped--made a lot more sense as he described the guy. The actual details of what had happened to him were still fuzzy, but obviously traumatic enough that Tony didn't question where Jon chose to leave the description. Half way through it, the elevator had slid to a stop, rousing Tony out of his already fretful attempt to recharge in Jon's warmth, eyes half-shuttered in the steady drone of Jon's voice and pattern he could measure against his back. By then, at least, as Tony nudged Jon on to lead the way to his planned destination, he had steadied enough to utilize reliable code with only some of the usual edge filed off, "You do have a type." Jon had given him plenty of pieces.

Before Jon could start sputtering his defence and trying to insist Tim wasn't who he had taken his frustrations out on, as he had described it, Tony continued, "He sounds like he was good for you. Stubborn bastard." That could have meant either of them. It took Tony another second to come back around to why he had asked in the first place, the immediate awareness that Jon had already lost this person marring the clarity of purpose, but the Agrii's technology had proven that it wasn't actually as much of a hurdle to reach through time. It did still make it a slightly different question when Tony asked, "Would you want him here?" Steve was still alive and fine, as far as Tony knew, but if this could be an opportunity to see Clint, or Thor, or Scott--any of them again, and maybe bring them back, that answer did feel very easy.

Jon takes the nudge and shifts enough to allow Tony to reassume his place over Jon's shoulder. Any protest he may have regarding Tony calling him out for his type remain effectively silenced by Tony's follow-up comment that also serves to add a barely notable streak of pink to Jon's cheeks.

"I... I thin I would like to give him that chance." He answers the actual question while leading Tony forward out of the elevator and across the wide plaza it has opened up to. To him being pulled to Temba still feels like a chance to get away from the mess that is the Earth as he has come to know it. Jon frowns. "....under certain requirements: I wouldn't want him to be from- Back then. Maybe hours before we blow up the circus. It.... It's fine if he hates me. I, I deserve that. Also..." And Jon lowers his voice, eyes falling down to the ground before them as they walk. "I would also want them to bring in his brother. So he can see him again. Tell him what we're about to do. That he will be avenged. Give them a chance to... To just... iunno. Be brothers?"

It wouldn't be Tim's forgiveness Jon wants. But he wouldn't mind Tim having the same chance Jon has found for himself in Temba.

What Jon meant by 'chance' wasn't immediately clear; it could have been 'chance to be alive', which would have been the frustrating answer to Tony. The conditions that Jon had were more illuminating; 'chance away from a bad situation'. So many people in Temba had a similar story, darkness that they carried around with them that made being in the deserted city seem like a relief.

Tony wasn't sure the same pattern applied to himself. The more he talked to anyone here, the more he was convinced he was that darkness and the relief was felt on Earth.

"I shot my friend into space," he said abruptly. It was supposed to be commiseration, to show Jon that he knew very well what it meant to deserve the ire of someone he had betrayed, because he knew he would have hated if someone tried to convince him he didn't deserve it. "I was given a choice, and I chose to trick him onto a ship and send him into uncharted space where he couldn't ever contact Earth again." If Tony could bring Bruce to Temba and not do that, if that meant he was given the chance to do it all over again, he knew very profoundly now that he would have made a different choice. He hoped he didn't really have to say that part out loud for Jon to figure it out.

Yeah, Tony probably wanted Steve here more than he wouldn't wish it on him, and maybe that impulse wasn't entirely selfishly motivated so it was easier to confront that about himself. After all, this place, this weird circumstance, had given that Steve a chance, too. "He--Steve, he told me--..." Definitely did not make it easier to talk about, though. Tony wavered again, searching everywhere else for some stability, a pattern to trace, a straight line, even, digging a knuckle painfully into the centre of his chest.

"Into space..." Jon repeats that part, impressed. "Wow." And after a moment: "Did it... Fix? Whatever the problem was that has led to that decision?" Because Jon doesn't believe Tony has made such a decision lightly. He has come to know the man well enough by now to be able to picture the inner conflict well enough. Tony cares for his friends. A lot. If there had been another solution, he certainly would have found it.

The stammered mention of Steve has Jon wrap one arm around Tony's middle just before they reach the gate to a massive, dome-like structure. And while it has gotten dark outside already, the moment they step through that gate they find themselves in a wide, well cared-for park complete with a picturesque lake and an open sky projected above, perpetually set to a soft sunset.

That was actually a very complicated question for an incredibly easy answer, making Tony hesitate as he considered what had actually been fixed, but eventually still provided, "It's not a problem anymore." That was how he had justified it in the first place, anyway.

As difficult as that choice and the guilt was, it wasn't nearly as immediate as Steve's departure, so it was easier to leave that thought unfinished for now as Tony took in the park and the light on the water. Why didn't the whole place look like this? It wasn't quite enough to detach Tony from Jon, but he wasn't dragging along so much, curious enough to guide them toward the lake. "What about you?" he asked once they were on the cushion of the grass, curling his hand back to stroke along Jon's neck in reassurance that the answer wasn't going to be an indictment either way. "Was it worth it? Tim'n'his brother, did it work?"

Jon simply nods once, frowning slightly, but not unfamiliar with such a pragmatic approach. "Hm. I see." Which doesn't mean he understands what sort of problem can only be fixed by launching someone into space. But at the same time is Tony's world one of super heroes. And those tend to come with their own brand of world-endangering problems.

Not trying to picture any of these problems in too much detail, Jon lets Tony direct their path towards the lake, tilting his head a little to glance up towards Tony at the question. Then he shakes his head. "I try to think Tim got what he had been looking for in the end at least. I never met his brother, but I listened to the statement Martin convinced him to record on the event that killed his brother and subsequently made him join the Institute. I was the one that requested him to be moved to the Archives as one of my assistants. It's my fault he got tangled up down there with the worst of it all. And after Prentiss, after... The worms," He raises a hand to gesture at his face and the cluttering of scars on it. "I got very paranoid after the attack. Didn't trust anyone I worked with but suspected everyone. I followed them, spied on their homes, searched their desks... Tim hated it especially and even more so after finding out he couldn't even quit the job. In the end, he blamed me for ruining his life, and... I can't say he was wrong."

A pause.

"He did die blowing up that wax museum and ending the Unknowing. He may not have forgiven me, but he saved the world and avenged his brother. I... survived." Maybe not entirely human anymore, but he survived. And in a way Jon still feels guilty for it.

"There's no way you could have known..." Tony started, but was already tilting his head apologetically before he got very far, because that had to be something Jon had heard before. It wasn't a statement that ever really helped, anyway, and Tony had seen heroes commit some heinous acts with the best intentions and never quite recover from it. The solution turned out to not let them have to be the one to do it in the first place, not platitudes.

Like Bruce. If Jon was trusting Tony, Tony could maybe admit to a little more. "I met Bruce when I was at Cambridge, actually, well before Iron Man or the Avengers, and I was just a kid and he was giving a lecture on biophysics. One of the smartest people I ever met, I thought he was brilliant and engaging, and he didn't like me from the start," Tony explained, managing a breathy laugh, brow raised at Jon. The difference was, Bruce never warmed to Tony much, but Tony had proven he very much deserved that in the end. "We worked in similar fields, military contracts, and...So, he does this experiment. Biophysics. Massive radiation, rewrites him from the ground up. It should have killed him, but it makes something...amazing. It makes the Hulk."

This was the really complicated part, making Tony consider the strangely frozen sky as he tried to come up with the best way to explain what the Hulk was. "Bruce was still there. But he could also become this invincible powerhouse, it was like a manifestation of all of the times he had been hit and wished he was stronger. It was anger. And he had so little control over it.

He was an Avenger, from the start. There would be no team without him, that's the truth. And he saved the world, like Tim, burning every time, but the more he burned the stronger he was. The problem was, he wasn't always on the team, and he was unstoppable. Both the rock and the hard place, you can't hit him, you can't slow him down, and the Hulk at his worst would raze cities."

If there was any way for Jon to really understand what the Hulk was without ever actually confronting the power of him, he must have seen where this was going, and Tony raised his hand over Jon's shoulder to the sky, surrendering to that force none of them could figure out how to control. "It was S.H.I.E.L.D. that approached me, figuring, if anyone could figure out a way to kill him, it would be me," he said, voice pitching high and veering more hysterical with the humourless grin Tony tried to put on, like it was an absolute gas that this was his reliable talent, how wonderful was his dazzling mind. "And I...of course I could. I didn't just spy on my friends, I had a kill switch for every one of them. Just in case." Even with Jon right there, definitely more stable and happier than he had been even around Tony a year ago in his choice to trust more, making in clear how damaged this had left his relationship with Tim with no chance now to recover, Tony was not entirely convinced this was even wrong. Someone had to commit the heinous acts.

"But...I couldn't do that. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't wrong, we couldn't let the destruction continue, and they weren't going to stop until they put him down, with or without my help. So, we compromised. I made sure he wasn't a problem anymore." Tony gave a slightly helpless shrug to that, because he knew it hadn't been the correct choice, he should have been able to defend Bruce better. Worst of all, he added, "I didn't tell him, I didn't ask him, I tricked him. And I think I did that because I knew...If I had asked, he would have agreed. He'd want me to kill him, too."

It's true, though. Jon hadn't known. No one of them had known anything. They had all just been living their lives and going about their jobs and suddenly everything had turned into a hellscape. Jon knows that as good as everyone else. And yet it changes nothing about the guilt he feels.

And so he doesn't argue, but rather listens to the story Tony has decided to share with him. Which is a lot. Not entirely surprising given the Earth he is from, but still. It is a lot.

He has been told about the Avengers before, this group of heroes protecting the Earth. But that's only the public view, isn't it. What Tony puts out here is a glance behind the curtains at the mess that arises when powerful beings aren't always in control of their actions and abilities. It's only natural that at some point people would want to be assured there are measure in place to stop a wave of pure violence and destruction.

But it shouldn't have been Tony's job to do this. These people he was supposed to work with and called his friends...

Once Tony is finished, Jon takes a moment to unpack everything. Though he makes no move to pull away from Tony. "...Jesus Christ, Tony... I'm sorry you were put in that position." He may have been the only person capable to do the thing, but that doesn't make it a fair request by any means. And yet there isn't anything to be done about the fact now. It's in the past. It has happened. What remains is the guilt and the mental scars left behind by being burdened with such responsibility.

"I assume S.H.I.E.L.D. ... They hold a certain authority on your Earth." Whoever these people are, they don't exist on the Earth Jon is familiar with.

By then, they were slowly circling the lake, and Tony had begun to be able to see the seams and the wires, dissecting the artificiality of the place under the mask of natural growth and finding stability in the systems. Telling Jon all of that was an act of violence, just as carefully constructed but every detail a hoist of a guillotine that Jon chose to stay. Tony couldn't be sure if it was permanent, but pressed his appreciation for Jon's sympathy in a kiss to his temple and dropped his hand down Jon's back to rub between his shoulders for the places where their guilt had intersected, and draw their walk to a stop.

"God, see, your Earth is pure anarchy, I don't get it," Tony accused, brow furrowed and sounding genuinely frustrated without the spark of teasing brightness that was choking under the ash in his gut. While he unhooked the lush cape he wore to carefully spread it over the grass at the still edge of the lake, he explained, "Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage and Logistics Directorate. International gig, global threats, super spies, you know." He offered a hand to Jon to help him sit without grass stains now on his new clothes, and where Tony could maybe finally collapse instead of trying to carry all of this any further. "They'd probably know all about your weird wax museums, should get that started over there."

"And from what little I have just learned about them, they would make formidable agents for the Eye." Jon notes with a small sigh, but not without an appreciative smile towards Tony for the offered hand which Jon accepts while taking a seat on their improvised blanket. That hardly has been the reason for Tony to pick up a cape, he guesses. But it's still a sweet idea.

It's not untrue. If mall security guards make viable agents for Beholding, then an entire organization meant to supervise the entire planet might just be a dream come true. Though the political hurdles that had to be taken for such an organization to even be remotely tolerated would be immense. And then there is public acceptance and the very likely lack of it as well.

Jon waits for Tony to sit down with him. "It's quite nice here. I... I hope you like it." He wants to ask how Tony feels, but those sorts of inquiries will have to wait for now.

It wasn't clear to Tony if that was meant to be disparaging and he raised his eyebrows inquisitively, only to immediately figure from his expression that Jon probably hadn't come around on his patron being used as a force for good. And he would have looked so cute in a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, too.

Tony took his time settling, shoulder close to Jon's and knee bent up against his chest protectively with his arms wrapped around it to start his meticulous work. He was still clutching the napkin from the restaurant, which he shook out over the grass after crushing it thoroughly on their way down and leaving a powdering of crumbs next to the cape. Carefully but quickly, he worked to crease and fold it as he replied, "It's, you know," with the shrug of one shoulder, because it wasn't a great time to ask. "I mean, don't--it's, it would be romantic, very thoughtful, couldn't have picked a better place," he tried to assure Jon, and took a deep breath because he was clearly trying to salvage this date and Tony was not helping. Only, it came back out in an abrupt rush, a hysterical laugh that Tony tried to suppress with the back of his hand against his mouth that he bit before he could cry instead.

"Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D. guy in charge, he only has one eye. Stupid," he explained, shaking his head, because it wasn't even worth trying to justify where that outburst came from. He was finished his boat by then, anyway, and held it up in his palm for Jon's approval.

No, Jon still doesn't believe any of the powers would let themselves be used to do good. At least not without causing terror at the same time to feed upon. Not that Jon wouldn't appreciate a better outlook onto his future, but as far as his present knowledge goes, there isn't much in it that isn't centered around the suffering of others.

Pulling one of his own knees up to rest an arm upon it Jon watches as Tony works on the napkin, curious as of what Tony has planned for the piece of abducted fabric and just leaning ever so slightly against the other man's shoulder.

The sudden laugh is a surprise. One that has Jon blink up at Tony. "Ah..." Is his immediate response, but before he can say anything else, Jon finds himself presented with the little boat and confusion turns into a genuine, uncomplicated joy. "I mean," Jon tips his head a little to the side and reaches out with his hand to trace the lines of the boat resting in Tony's hand with his fingers before carefully lifting it up and bringing it closer. "One eye can be plenty to see. And... He seems to do his job well."

Fury's competence in general was inarguable, but how good he was at his job was debatable and a bold claim to make for someone who didn't even know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was until a minute ago, so Tony grimaced and tilted his head in dubious acceptance of the premise. Sure, it wasn't the eye that was the problem. He hadn't expected Jon to take the boat, but gladly leaned back on his hands with one planted behind Jon where Tony could tip closer, indicating with his chin toward the water to invite Jon to do the honours and launch it when he was ready. It wasn't exactly an extravagant affair, but it would be difficult to say whether Steve and Bucky deserved a funeral or if they might turn up again in a couple weeks from a nap. A napkin boat in an artificial lake would have to suffice.

Sitting on the grass and seeing some of his dread away with the boat, Tony finally managed, "Steve told me, while ago, that he and Barnes had chosen to stay." Even that was knotted up and complicated, unclear if it was tragic or hopeful, tangling up in Tony's throat again and forcing him to abandon the thought with another shrug like he could just dismiss it, then try to shape more of the thought in a whisper delicate kiss where he leaned close to the back of Jon's neck.

Jon has never claimed to be a good judge of character, especially without ever having met the person in question. Though he will at least expect a certain level of competence from the person in charge of a huge, international agency apparently set on protecting their very planet.

Now reaching the lake requires a bit of shifting on Jon's end, but the little boat floats easily and drifts off with a little nudge of his fingers. Though what exactly Tony intends to represent in it isn't quite clear to Jon at that point. He settles back into his spot with a raised brow in response to Tony's words. "...right. They wanted to stay together." Jon muses pensively and turns his head enough to glance back at Tony. "Maybe they still are- Together, I mean. Wherever they are now." A small mercy to believe in.

Tony was slow to acknowledge Jon settling back again, watching the boat's slow drift and the ripples in the water catching the light of the sunset like embers. They should have set it on fire; now it was just going to slowly wilt and sink into the artificial current. With his mouth twisted in disappointment, Tony shifted his weight to give the boat an ever-mocking salute, wrist loose and noncommittal, and his hand dropping to his chest where it flicked a finger toward the napkin's ephemeral progress.

"They came in together, they left together..." he agreed, letting Jon draw the conclusion. It made sense, if they were catching the same ride. Why their captors would suddenly grant the pair that mercy, Tony couldn't fathom--maybe it was just easier, in the machinations of whatever cosmic machine they were using to throw people across dimensions, not to bother untangling a bond like that. Gravity. "Did I tell you about gravity yet?" Tony asked, because the thought kept coming back to him, present from the first time he had talked to Steve on Risa. With his hand out to press two fingers alongside each other, he said, "Parallel universes, perfect balance, until they meet..." then twisted his fingers together, inexorably linked, the closer the two celestial bodies the more impossible it was to draw them away from each other once more. Maybe he had told Jon this already, maybe he could follow. "Did you read that book I gave you?," Tony continued, then waved it off, because Reed had effectively the opposite theory about parallel universes and polarity and now it seemed so pessimistic to Tony, that the multitudes of the universe were holding each other apart.

The boat doesn't hold Jon's attention as much as Tony's reaction towards it, even though he refrains from commenting about it. Right. Maybe they should have set it on fire.

But then Tony starts talking and effectively gives Jon a whole different focus and a whole new idea to wrap his mind around. "...haven't finished it yet." He admits with his eyes on Tony's crossed fingers. Then he reaches out one of his hands and places it over Tony's, two of his fingers around the ones Tony has used for his little example. "In Temba many universes come together, not quite parallel to one another with little balance. More like a messy knot." And yet still easy enough disentangled. A thought that makes his heart ache just enough to add tension to Jon's jaw. Their chances to remain together appear ridiculously slim.

That isn't a thought Jon wants to follow, however, so his hand simply closes around Tony's in a way of stubborn defiance. They had this conversation before. And Jon will hold onto what they had agreed on before. He would find a way to find Tony if Tony doesn't find his way to him first.

It didn't feel so random as this knot to Tony, though as he tried to assemble his evidence, easing Jon's hold on his hand into a more orderly link of their fingers, it didn't feel as strong as it sounded in his head. "You think so? Steve and Bucky, okay, listen, literally the same life, a definable divergence in their universes; that plane goes down in the war, they both die on it, and in one universe it's Steve that wakes up in the future, and in the other it's Barnes. Both of them become Captain America, same path, just next to each other. A little nudge together, and they come crashing into each other," he started, and that part still felt like it meant something, it was the one that had put the thought into Tony's head. Maybe it was because he didn't really know the details, and only saw the clean lines--not that their respective deaths might have been different than the Captain America he knew, or that their relationship could have started much more tumultuously, that bond born out of a shared trauma more than a shared history. It was already in that realization that Tony started to sound less confident as he continued, "I thought maybe I could see the pattern then. Maybe, for me, it was Reeve--the way he talked about trying to make it up to a planet that he had destroyed for a few bucks. Maybe it was Sansa, you know, Stark, that couldn't be a coincidence."

That one was definitely weak, but not nearly as intractable as any thread that Tony tried to tie between himself and Jon. Instead, he felt constantly reminded of how different they were, and the vulnerable space between them that would have been easy to wedge apart, and that Tony tried to close by tugging on Jon's hand then to draw him against his shoulder.

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