Every hero movie needs a party

[no_applause]

WHO: Anyone and everyone
WHERE: Some Ballroom
WHAT: PARTAY! AKA the Fundraiser Padme is throwing to raise money for Tony's philanthropic oopsie
WHEN: mid-April
WARNINGS: Nothing in general. Potential for villain violence.

((ooc: This is a general mingle post. Go forth and do whatever you want! I've set the scene for the party but what you do in it is up to you! Want to party and schmooze with some rich folks? Go for it! Want to be a bad guy and try to steal shit from under said rich people's noses? Fabulous! Want to be a hero and stop said bad guys. Awesome! Want to brood and sulk like the dark angsty DC character you've always wanted to be? You do you, boo. Go forth and have fun!))

Maybe you're well to do in the city. Maybe you just know a guy who knows a guy. Or maybe you just have the right connections and heard it through the grapevine. One way or another, you've heard about the party of the month. Padme Naberrie Amidala, on behalf of the Stark Industries Board of Directors, has planned the finest fundraising event of her career to help pay for the new wing on the children's hospital... And maybe some starving children Tony wants to save.

Arrival

The entrance sets the stage for the whole event. Lit posts leading up to a wide circular doorway. The red carpet from the sidewalk is lined with paparazzi looking to snap some primo pictures of the attendees. Pose for the cameras, mingle, or just grab a drink from one of the waitstaff as you head inside.

Dinner is Served

The tables are set with fine place settings and beautiful center pieces. Most of the room is decked out in black and white, so as to not draw attention to the lovely colored gowns worn by many of the attendees. The gourmet meal has several options to satisfy everyone. The deserts are even more elaborate. Grab a bite and socialize. Or steal a seat or a plate when no one's looking. I'm not the boss of you.

Time to Socialize

There might not be a formal dance floor but the string quintet is playing some lovely music while the guests mingle. Now's the time to grab a glass of champagne or something from the bar. Snag some fancy looking hors d'oeuvres from a wandering server and spend time with your fellow citizens of this fine city.

Auction!

It is a fundraiser, after all. Aside from the cost to get in (unless you're a filthy freeloader who snuck in the back door), there is also a silent auction set up for attendees. But there are no gift baskets or wreathes in this auction. Nay, my friends. There is a reason there are guards at the door. This auction includes such things as Rolex watches, diamond necklaces, ski trips to the Andes and other fancy rich people things.

But the cherry on top is Tony Stark's contribution. A car that mysterious billionaire Din Djarin is rumored to have his eye on. The car has somehow been brought into the event and is on display for anyone to admire. But remember, that car did belong to Tony Stark, so none of you villains even think about trying to steal it!

The Bar

Every formal event has to have a bar for people tired of champagne or those who just want to be antisocial and run away for a while. Does this really need any more description than that?

Comments

[in_extremis]

Tony drew his head back away from the glass, standing taller and nose up with some long-suffering impatience, clearly unconvinced that Sims was above wearing Socks Of Endless Stench if he got the right crew together. The glasses would have to be an unknown element for now. That was about as irritated as Tony was expecting to get, though, readily saying at the same time Jon was, "No, I know--" to assure him that Tony hadn't meant to imply he was evil, just that this current discussion had some evil overtones and Sims did not give himself a lot of room to manoeuvre at that end of the spectrum.

It was probably a surprise to them both, then, when he rapidly backed away, bumping into a rattling clothing rack and knocking a jacket to the floor with a muffled thump. "What are you talking about, that boy I rescued?" he asked. He knew exactly what Jon was talking about. Between the crawling sensation up his spine as he flew away from the Archivist in the middle of that dark street, and Sims assuring him the he knew, the performance was probably more embarrassing than effective, but Tony had some stubborn hard wiring that he had to work through before he could properly process the rest of what Sims was trying to tell him. "It does sound absurd, I'm having a hard time..." Believing any of this, but it didn't sound like Tony's scene in the first place, presuming any part of it wasn't just a psychotic episode. "You're the magic guy," Tony concluded, hands up with some surrender to Jon's expertise.

[beholding_archivist]

"It's... That eye." Jon says after Tony has backed away sufficiently and the frame of wood and metal has settled again. His voice is calm as he says this. Pensive, even. And he lifts the sunglasses back up to replace them over his own two eyes. "It sees everything. It knows everything. It- It doesn't appear to understand anything, however. It only knows, bound to facts and reality as it is meant to be. This false setup confuses it, because it- I don't think it can see any of it."

Does this sound absurd? Oh, it certainly does. And that fresh wince on Jon's face only reveals that he is just getting aware of that particular circumstance. He tries taking a deep breath followed by a step forward, hands open before him. "Yes, I KNOW that's you in that armor - Always has been. Which- It's a needlessly dangerous pastime if you ask me, but- That bit is true."

[in_extremis]

It should have been more reassuring that Sims was less frantic and more focused. Nothing about that horrible eye looming over the Institute was reassuring, though, and having to deal with it being involved was less appealing than some terrible concussion side effects. Jon's very mundane concern for the how safe Tony's hobbies were wrenched a bubble of hysterical laughter out of him that died as quickly as it came, and didn't leave Tony with any relief from the tension that hummed through his bones and left him looking with what he was sure was a pathetic, pleading expression at Jon without the actual words for what he wanted; not sure if it was for Jon to not tell anyone, or to just do him the kindness of forgetting somehow.

That was its own problem. The fact was, there was any number of ways that Sims could have found out about Iron Man, but that didn't mean he, or the eye, or whatever this was, knew everything. "Okay," Tony accepted, in the same clipped, just for the sake of argument voice, and made an aborted move to grab at the sleeve of a random coat hung up around his shoulders. Asking Jon who it belonged to sounded like an effective test, if he was meant to know everything, but if it wasn't real then that would be the only answer Jon had, which sounded very convenient for him.

He was very insistent that Tony was real, though. With his fingers still idly curled around the fabric, and with a small frown of frustration at the barrier of the sunglasses that made it difficult to watch Jon's eyes, Tony asked, "That night that we were in the lake, and had to get to the bottom to get that...I told you to go on without me, because it was so clear I could see you, all the way down, do you remember that?" Tony didn't entirely feel like he did himself, unable to conjure what it was that he was sure Sims was digging up out of some volcanic dirt to add to his collection, something massive and alien sleeping at the bottom of that lake. How had he convinced Tony to come along with him that time? It didn't matter. What did matter was that there was no way that Jon should have known, "What was I hoping you would do?"

[beholding_archivist]

That laughter has Jon take a step back again and grimace out of pure reflex. "-Jesus, you're-" Jon starts, but doesn't finish that particular sentence. Instead he falls silent somewhere between Tony's silence and that somewhat odd and very specific question he starts laying out between them.

"...uh..." Is Jon's initial reaction and he looks at Tony, blinking twice at the man. It's strange to admit even to himself that he does have the answer. The answer along with the certainty that it's true.

Finally, Jon glances away, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks. "I misread you at the time. But- I know now. And-" He pauses, hands fidgeting with one another in indecision. "Doesn't that seem... Off? Considering our... We aren't exactly friends. Not... Here." Not in this very wrong reality. "You had no plausible reason to wish for any physical displays of affection from my side."

[in_extremis]

Jon's work up to the answer could have been a delaying tactic, feeling around Tony's reaction like a mentalist, which would have been a shocking display of sensitivity that Tony would have otherwise been convinced Sims was incapable of. It was such a distant possibility for Tony to cling to between Jon's blush and the incredibly Jon way of crafting his answer, like it was out of a clinical text book, but Tony still desperately considered the possibility that Sims had always been playing ten steps ahead of him and concealing any ability to not be brusque and indiscreet. The alternative was that he did know, which meant he might have known all manner of implausible thoughts Tony was having, and also that he might be very sane.

The pale of Tony's panic was very unforgiving to the matching flush he felt creeping up his neck. "Is it possible that your thing is contagious?" he proposed suddenly, twirling a finger by his ear, because the next best thing was that they were sharing a lunacy. Quickly, Tony waved off the thought before Jon could complain about it, clearing his throat to say again, "Okay." Now what? The possibility that most things, but not all things, were not real, made the future incredibly difficult to read. "We need to leave the closet," was the next easiest step, and Tony inhaled like he expected for the one after to follow naturally, but these things rarely came to him until he was already doing it.

[beholding_archivist]

"You find it that hard to believe me!" Jon points out with an irritated huff, turning his head enough to glance over his own shoulder back in the vague direction of the party Tony has just removed him from. The party where everything is false.

After a moment his attention returns to Tony, but despite the color remaining on his cheeks, Jon manages a scowl. "Right. You want to pretend everything is alright." He takes from the man's words and shifts to move out of the way. He doesn't approve, obviously, but with that headache that hasn't left him yet Jon only finds it harder to press the urgency of the situation.

Jon pinches the bridge of his nose, tone dropping down to a grumbling degree. "Just please don't try to drink the issue away. I'd rather you stay away from the bar."

[in_extremis]

This was an incredibly unfair accusation, because Jon was saying incredibly unbelievable things and, as far as Tony could tell, hated Tony enough to say unbelievable things at him to get a reaction if Jon didn't genuinely have something completely illogical to make Tony's problem. Experience told Tony that the latter was unfortunately likely, but that didn't rule out the hating him thing. He flung his arms out in surrender to this helpless situation that he was being put in and asked, "Would you believe me if I showed up at the birthday party you were throwing for your cat to tell you we were all actually in hell?" Jon was clearly trying out some new things here, so it would have been nice if 'gentle' was one of them.

This ongoing concern for Tony was not quite the same as gentle, because Tony didn't like the implication that he would 'drink the issue away' or that Sims would care if he did. Was he reading too much into that? Probably, this was a mess and Sims was probably just hoping Tony would remain capable of fixing it for him. "Please, I've never been more sober in my life, they're watering them down in there," he said, not sure if breezy or equally snarling would be more believable and landing on just talking very fast. "And you never listen, jesus, just--come on," he tripped just as quickly through, grabbing Jon's hand again to pull him the other way, through the clothing racks and toward the front of the coat check where the entrance to the venue was instead of having to confront the party again. Tony wasn't sure he wanted to look around at all of those people and wonder if they were real.

[beholding_archivist]

Jon opens his mouth to argue. That's one of his strong points after all. But not much in terms of arguing is happening once Tony grabs his hand again, sending what at least feels like a jolt of lightning through Jon's very being and quite effectively shutting him up. The best he can do at that point is stare dumbly at that hand pulling him along. How he manages not to trip will remain a mystery even to himself.

It's when Tony has pulled him all the way to the entrance that Jon finally manages to look up, frowning upon recognizing the place. So Tony is kicking him out?

"Aight." He exhales sharply, though his eyes fall back down onto where his hand is being kept by Tony and he finds it difficult to pull it back. Instead, he finds himself hold onto the other's hand maybe a little tighter.

His tone isn't any less grim when he speaks again and he doesn't exactly look back up at Tony but rather keeps staring at their hands. At least he's determined. "I will... Fix... this. And prove to you that I'm not lying!"

[in_extremis]

While it didn't make any of this seem at all normal, Jon breaking out of his frantic confusion loop for the familiar knit of determination under his skin had Tony breathing easier in the night air, even if it did feel particularly cold on the back of his neck. There were torn petals, ribbons and glints of glitter or lost stones littering the carpet that had been so heavily trafficked as the event began, making it feel morosely abandoned as though the party was already over and they were the last two standing as Tony tried to gently ease Jon's hold on his hand by covering it with the other, like he could warm it enough to melt the tension.

"You don't have anything to prove to me. I'm trying, okay? I'm working on it. The car isn't far, so--if you know what we have to do...Is it that eye? Nobody's been able to touch it. Can you...is this just a conversation we can have?" he encouraged, indication more than dragging Jon any further until he seemed to have caught up.

[beholding_archivist]

"The eye only watches." Jon shakes his head. If it affects anyone, it's only him. Which might be an idea worth of concern, but Jon doesn't exactly consider it that. Though he admits something else: "And I don't know what needs to be done. I will figure it out. Because you won't believe me otherwise." Frowning, he moves his attention towards the main event. "Even my cats aren't as real as they seem..." And this is something he hates saying out loud. At best they are only real to a degree, and Jon doesn't quite like that thought.

"...I will have to check some books." That's the conclusion he has to offer at this point. And the best course of action coming to mind without magically stumbling over the solution.

[in_extremis]

If any part of this conversation was most convincing to Tony that Jon wasn't fucking around, it was admitting that his cats might not be real. He love those damn things enough to make Tony raise his eyebrows in shock at Jon himself saying anything so treacherous about them. They weren't real, but Tony was? And Jon seemed to be trying to get away from him now, which Tony did not know how to reconcile with the squeeze around his hand.

"Sure, okay," Tony muttered for maybe the thousandth time, and could perhaps hear now how that could have sounded patronizing and less helpful than he hoped. "This sounds like the kind of problem you solve in a library," wasn't much better, but Tony was focused on carefully retrieving his hand and trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with this encounter until it blew up in his face. It would be nice if Jon could give him some warning, so Tony tried, "Uh...call me. When you get home."

[beholding_archivist]

With his hand free and clear permission to leave, Jon lingers a little longer, his thoughts tumbling about without truly reaching a conclusion.

After a few more moments, he nods regardless, then takes a step closer and leans up to press a quick little kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth. Here, he doesn't linger but withdraws quickly, making to turn away swiftly to hide the blush on his face, muttering more to himself while starting to walk towards the main entrance. "-...in case we hate us even more when everything's fixed and- I- I'll call you, yes. I can do that.... R-right."

Eventually Tony may notice that not a single one of Jon's cats is following him just now. The felines will remain with the party and will turn out to be among the final guests to leave.

[in_extremis]

After that conversation, Tony wasn't entirely convinced that Jon turning away was a mercy, and that he might have known regardless that he had just set Tony on fire and the general system failure of Tony's competing tactile reactions. It took Tony longer than he was proud of to reboot after Jon's quickly delivered halt and catch fire instruction, leaving him in a daze that would permeate much of the rest of his night, and that he quickly discovered lingering at the bar like he had been told not to was not going to fix. Instead, he found himself staring curiously at people, trying to see them from a different angle and spot what had been telling Jon that they weren't real, and risking touching more hands and leaning close to whisper in more ears than he would have otherwise allowed himself. It meant he hardly noticed the mothcats remaining, until he was considering the Countess and what could have been so wrong with her, relatively speaking, and realized very belatedly that she was at the party without her usual escort. Offering her a cheesecake, a scratch, and a kiss did not leave Tony with any more understanding of what Jon had been talking about, and any one of the three was likely to make her sick, Tony was sure. Hopefully, she would sleep better than he did.