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
The tunnel that would take them back to the surface wasn't far, and Tony threw one last glance over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being immediately followed before pushing the Ace and Cayde's tablet against his chest. "You dropped these," he reported. The details weren't important.
no subject
His hands lifted automatically to gather the things that had been passed over to him, and he looked at them in bemusement. Thankfully his hands seemed more sure of what they were doing as he fondly ran one over the side of the hand cannon before fingers curled around the familiar grip.
"So that's how many I owe you now?" he asked as he let the gun rest on his lap with his tablet, lifting his head to watch the scenery blur past them before the tunnel swallowed them up, flickering lines of light running up and down route back.
no subject
They had been deep enough that it took uncomfortably long even at this speed to shoot up out of the tunnel and into the glaring, dawn light of the surface, a pinprick of lavender-blue that they powered toward until they were rocketing up into the clean, clear air. Tony squinted, searching his head for his glasses that weren't there, and tried to get his bearings while his eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar light as other early-morning travellers skimmed easily around his roaring path. "As long as you don't bring the body count up here, maybe we don't talk about it," he offered crisply.
no subject
The Exo relaxed in his seat, shifting his arm to lean against the door in some semblance of looking like this was just a random joyride and not at all a narrow escape from a close-call he wasn't even sure how he'd define. A lot of it was a haze, but he was sure he could get a review from Sundance later. Right now he just felt like collapsing face-first into his hotel bed.
To Tony's offer, he glanced at the man with a brief, crooked smile. "Deal."