Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_extremis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-03-20 03:45 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2021-03-20 03:45 pm
Lead
WHO: Tony, Richie, open in theory*
WHERE: Coruscant. A bar.
WHAT: A pair of addictive personalities walk into a bar.
WHEN: Mid-field trip?
WARNINGS: I don't know how dark this will actually get, but they're definitely going to talk about addiction a lot, and Tony is more self-destructive than usual.
*: I know I haven't had a normal open post in a wHile, so sorry about this one targeted prompt. I know no one ever takes the wildcard option, but really, now is the time, hit me up, I'm just floundering a bit in this event.
Jon did help. He did. Jon could also sense Tony's anxiety like a soft, marshmallow filling, and if Jon was going to continue to be so helpful, it was probably in Tony's best interest if he didn't know how profoundly pathetic Tony was. He was used to doing this on his own, anyway. The code was in the framework.
Isolating himself on the ship hadn't exactly worked out, but Tony thought he could maybe apply the same theory to a stale, narrow bar buried a few feet under the hotel. A whole planet to explore, and not a lot of time to do it, who would be sticking so close at this point? Tony knew he wouldn't be, if he didn't feel like his wings had been clipped. Steve was gone. It was going to get worse from here.
The bartender left a slimy trail in their wake as they moved up and down their space, like a snail making its way along the counter, ignoring Tony by now and leaving him to watch blindly as they swept by, then the discharge oozed incrementally toward where Tony had propped his elbows, then was mopped up by the tendril they used to carry a stained rag trailing behind themself. It splattered with a reliable regularity into a bucket at either end of the counter. It was revolting, but Tony was starting to find some peace in it, measuring the consistency of the slime in the way it pooled and was gathered in the sweep of the cloth. It was a very different kind of peace than the one Tony had slammed his head against by watching the way the liquid in the bottle of 'strongest you have', whatever that was, caught the low light and flashes of neon that filtered their way into the bar. He wasn't sure how long ago he had ordered it, but there were already two cigarette butts wilting in the melting ice of the glass that it had come with, and the third he had largely forgotten about burnt close to his knuckles.
The bartender also didn't speak any structured language, though it seemed to understand just fine. It was the snarling grunt that they hurled at another man that knocked Tony out of his reverie, blinking slowly at the guy raising his hands in surrender with a nervous laugh and insisting he was definitely going to pay, just slipped his mind, is all. It was dark enough in here that Tony knew it was a blanket invitation to get away with plenty that wouldn't be welcome closer to the surface, but even the snail-guy had their limits. They were still grouching in a low growl as the came sweeping in front of Tony again, not even slowing down as Tony tried to ask, "Got any more of these?" with the last of the cigarette brandished. They would probably be back, Tony thought, as he watched them go. Maybe.
WHERE: Coruscant. A bar.
WHAT: A pair of addictive personalities walk into a bar.
WHEN: Mid-field trip?
WARNINGS: I don't know how dark this will actually get, but they're definitely going to talk about addiction a lot, and Tony is more self-destructive than usual.
*: I know I haven't had a normal open post in a wHile, so sorry about this one targeted prompt. I know no one ever takes the wildcard option, but really, now is the time, hit me up, I'm just floundering a bit in this event.
Jon did help. He did. Jon could also sense Tony's anxiety like a soft, marshmallow filling, and if Jon was going to continue to be so helpful, it was probably in Tony's best interest if he didn't know how profoundly pathetic Tony was. He was used to doing this on his own, anyway. The code was in the framework.
Isolating himself on the ship hadn't exactly worked out, but Tony thought he could maybe apply the same theory to a stale, narrow bar buried a few feet under the hotel. A whole planet to explore, and not a lot of time to do it, who would be sticking so close at this point? Tony knew he wouldn't be, if he didn't feel like his wings had been clipped. Steve was gone. It was going to get worse from here.
The bartender left a slimy trail in their wake as they moved up and down their space, like a snail making its way along the counter, ignoring Tony by now and leaving him to watch blindly as they swept by, then the discharge oozed incrementally toward where Tony had propped his elbows, then was mopped up by the tendril they used to carry a stained rag trailing behind themself. It splattered with a reliable regularity into a bucket at either end of the counter. It was revolting, but Tony was starting to find some peace in it, measuring the consistency of the slime in the way it pooled and was gathered in the sweep of the cloth. It was a very different kind of peace than the one Tony had slammed his head against by watching the way the liquid in the bottle of 'strongest you have', whatever that was, caught the low light and flashes of neon that filtered their way into the bar. He wasn't sure how long ago he had ordered it, but there were already two cigarette butts wilting in the melting ice of the glass that it had come with, and the third he had largely forgotten about burnt close to his knuckles.
The bartender also didn't speak any structured language, though it seemed to understand just fine. It was the snarling grunt that they hurled at another man that knocked Tony out of his reverie, blinking slowly at the guy raising his hands in surrender with a nervous laugh and insisting he was definitely going to pay, just slipped his mind, is all. It was dark enough in here that Tony knew it was a blanket invitation to get away with plenty that wouldn't be welcome closer to the surface, but even the snail-guy had their limits. They were still grouching in a low growl as the came sweeping in front of Tony again, not even slowing down as Tony tried to ask, "Got any more of these?" with the last of the cigarette brandished. They would probably be back, Tony thought, as he watched them go. Maybe.
no subject
"Would you come if I called?" he teased, heated under Tony's intense scrutiny and wicked curl of his smirk, only to release the pressure suddenly by giving a spin where he stood, hands open for the assessment. "Don't hold back, I can take it and I will not respect your opinion if it is wrong," he encouraged with that impish glimmer again.
no subject
That wasn't meant as an insult. There's a showmanship to Tony that Cobb can respect. A little flash kept people from looking too closely. He was very familiar with the tactic.
"Of course. I've got one of these helpful personalities." He straightened up with his first collection of useful parts, mostly small things, and put them aside for safe keeping. He'd need a box of some kind to keep them safe. "Already takin' the time out of my evening to keep you amused. It's... it's like community service."
If Tony's going to spout bullshit, so will Cobb. They'll have a pleasant evening.
no subject
"And you'll be a better person for it," he shot back. "It's never too late to turn your life around. You'll do your time and be an upstanding citizen again eventually."
It would feel a little like trading dry barbs with Steve as they picked through the salvage, which definitely didn't lessen the homesick feeling that Tony was nursing and had sent him retreating into the isolation of the hangar and out of the noise of the city. But Tony found it was a welcome familiarity, and made the time and tedious job pass easier, especially with someone familiar with the materials to manage the excess.
no subject
Which was an amusing little fact that Cobb never got tired of. He was proud to be the Marshal of Mos Pelgo and double proud that no government decided that position. He was the only true, honest Marshal on Tatooine.
"I'm actually doing my job right now. Watching a troublemaker and makin' sure he keeps his nose clean." Instead of giving Tony a pointed look he looked at the droid who had a lighter. So far, the little round guy seemed more dangerous than Tony.