aggravating | 10th Command; Video - dated to the night after the breach ended

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10th Command; Video - dated to the night after the breach ended

[Nope. Screw you Bargians, he's not saying anything to you publicly.

... Oh okay, fine. Have a quick bullshit grin, the one he normally pulls at press conferences he'd rather die than be at.]

Well that was fun. We should petition to keep the brooms around.

[Private to Charles]

Alright, Chuck. Let's talk strategy, here. What's the plan for getting me out of inmate status? [He has a few things in mind as far as deals go, at this point. And he can't get those so long as he's stuck in the doghouse of the Barge.]

[Private to Steve]

What happens during Floods stays in the Flood. [Nope nope nope nope nope]

[Private to Arkady]

Any way I can have a few bottle of scotch to keep in my room, gorgeous? [He has a litany of BS excuses to give her, if she decides that's... a little much.

But Pepper's going to realize something's up sooner or later, and he wants a nice back-up supply of booze before that happens.]

[ooc: Hi I'm Em and I don't know the meaning of a hiatus. (at least not for tonight/tomorrow, beyond that I will be a little scarce)]

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[Today? Charles is lucking out. Tony's still sober, for now, and just kind of making his way inside, hands in his pockets, forgoing the seat in favor of just leaning back against the wall, face carefully neutral, almost bored, as he watches his Warden.]

Pass. [He nods towards the chair] How's it handling? [Small talk, right? Always a safe thing to start out with.]

Edited 2012-08-03 02:30 (UTC)

I would rather impale myself slowly on a fork than run around wearing stars and stripes. [That he doesn't have to fake, at least] Don't get me wrong, you pull off the whole golden boy, face of America thing. It looks fine on you.

On me it'd look like a cheap Fourth of July porno.

[Yeeeaaaah just pushing his way past Steve into the bar, moving over to the counter like he owns the place.

Really, with how often he's in here, he might as well just move in. ~~Not... like he actually mentioned that to Arkady at one point.~~]

Very well, thank you. [It is safe, and Charles is being honest. While it still wasn't exactly his favorite thing in the world (and he still wasn't sure how he felt about flying), it was definitely better than what it had been before.] You do good work.

I do. Need some designing fuel, then?

[She hopes it's that. She's mildly concerned, but one bottle isn't that unusual a request.]

Hey, it may be a little old-fashioned, but I like it.

[And he follows Tony over, looking a little awkward.]

So, uh, what do you want?

[Tim has a bullshit grin sensor, sorry Tony.]

I keep hoping we'll head to a Magician's Apprentice port, and bring back the brooms before they go totally nuts.

You okay?

On you? Yeah. It looks a little less like something you'd find in a circus.

[He's glancing around, not seeing Arkady around (thankfully, she's heard him complain about Steve's assholery enough for him showing up with Cap to be a little suspect) and reaches over for the scotch he knows is hidden behind the counter]

Scotch is kind of my drink of choice, now-a-days. [He's pulling out a tumblr, two glasses along with the main bottle] Want some?

Not just good. [He grins, some almost affectionate pride welling up in him] My work in robotics and engineering is completely unmatched.

[He reaches up, tapping his fingers against the side of his head] You've seen the suit.

[Remarkably? As much as Charles' power probably should have Tony on edge, the fact that he was already given a file with every bit of Tony's life put down on paper kind of made the whole... mind reading thing a little less of a problem, to Tony. It's still a little weird, sure, and it makes him uncomfortable on occasion, but at the same time, Tony trusts his mind, his thoughts, his genius. He trusts himself to be able to make Charles have to dig if he ever really wanted to get at something important. Something secret.

Tony prides himself on the complexity of his mind. And honestly? Trying to trip up a telepath, lead them down the wrong train of thought, bombard them with equations and puzzles... heh. It sounds fun.]

So. Therapy session, Professor?

You should see the old one, it's definitely circus-worthy.

[A little shrug.] Don't see why not, sure.

[It's a challenge he's willing to undertake, and really, on Charles' side of things, it was nice to know Tony didn't seem to mind all that much about what he was capable of. He knew some people - even other telepaths - were a little put off about it, and while he isn't really planning on pushing the boundaries on this at any point in the near future, the fact that he was open enough about it to say he'd be willing to establish a link before going into port or something was something to be pleased about.

Strange that in a place like the Barge, people were so judgmental about what people could and couldn't do, but there was a part of him that did understand. He didn't exactly want some stranger rooting around in his mind for information, either.

So basically, it'll be almost like a game. How well can Tony lie, and how well can Charles weasel the truth out of him.]

Alright. What can you tell me about your parents?

[Might as well. Dive right in...]

[The second that question is uttered, it's like every thought in Tony's mind is pulling back, retreating and locking itself away, a flash of anger and bitterness, a few images of a large, fire-lit study, the back of his father's chair, a door closing in his face time and time again, disappointment in a harsh, lined face, mouth open in rage, hands ripping everything out of his grip-

And then nothing but annoyance, the push of video reels, of images of his parents at cocktail parties, bitterness still there, but only that of a spoiled rich kid who's mommy and daddy were too busy getting their asses kissed and their fortunes raised to pay attention to the little boy with grease on his face and a microprocessor clutched in grubby little fingers.]

My parents? Going straight for the big hits, huh Professor? Alright. Mom was obsessed with the social scene, appearance at parties. She was the one who taught me to stand straight, one arm behind my back, glass in hand. To smile at the right times, laugh and nod, listen without listening. To scan a room and go straight for the people I needed on my side, leaving everyone else in the dust. Socialization for business, not for pleasure.

Dad wasn't there much. The company was his baby, but apparently that was just him not knowing what to do with a kid? I got my apology from him, twenty years after he died, and he kind of saved my life, so there's that, too.

Edited 2012-08-09 12:03 (UTC)

You have Dis- ... if Disney has better marketing than Stark Industries, I really need to get back home and fix things.

[Nope, ignoring that question, Timmy.]

Aside from a robot that rode around on my shoulder and did half my homework for me, you mean? [He's definitely letting his ego loose, now] Yeah. I was busy.

Something like that.

[He's teetering at the edge of worrying people, and he knows it. Which is why, from here on out? He has to be more careful. A bit more sneaky. Has to put on his game face and charm drinks out of people.

All while studiously ignoring the little red flags going up in his mind at that]

I will personally find a way to thoroughly emasculate anyone who threatens the sanctity of flying around on broomsticks.

[Quidditch is serious business, bro.]

[It's almost incredible, how well disciplined his mind is for someone who's had no previous experience with a telepath, and he can't help but almost marvel in it, at just how good he was at pulling everything back, locking things away where Charles couldn't find it unless he dug. And he could, but he wouldn't, because this was about trust and discussion, not extraction and confrontation.

Some of it feels familiar - the society functions, the loneliness, the sense that nothing you did was going to be enough to really hold their attention - but parts of it aren't. He'd more or less outgrown the frustration of having an inattentive mother and a completely uninterested stepfather once Raven had entered his life, because he had a companion, someone who understood. Someone to band together with when parties got dull or the mansion felt exceptionally lonely, or when his mother had too much to drink. He's struck by how fortunate he really was, and just how much he missed his sister, but he can't focus on that.]

I remember. [It was all in his file, after all, the gift Howard Stark had given Tony from beyond the grave.] How old were you, when your mother started teaching you how to behave?

[He says it more conversationally, curious, suddenly having an idea that if he presented this as more of a conversation, and maybe offered up some information about himself so they were on more level footing, he might open up a little more.]

I know I'll sleep better at night with that knowledge.

I'll do this for you. But um...there's a favor I'd like in return. It won't seem very self-serving.

[And a chuckle because he knows evasion tactics when he hears them. But he can play along for the moment.] We're from different universes, you know. Honestly, Stark Industries kind of sounds like Wayne Enterprises.

I've seen the news reels.

[He adds some ice to the glasses, pouring the scotch in with a practiced hand, ending up with exactly the same amount in each glass, sliding one across to Steve and taking a careful sip of his own.

Not too fast, no matter how much his throat is burning for it.]

Didn't take you as someone who'd drink for taste, Cap.

[Well-disciplined? Nah. Tony is just that good at repressing his past. His childhood. The things that bother him. Anything he doesn't need he buries under layers of code, lets sit in the dark to gather dust as he fills up the gaps with robotics, plans, equations and numbers. With the latest specs for the suit, the latest results on flight patterns, weaknesses in the joints, poor response times.

And then he fills the cracks, the space still there after he packs int he code with alcohol, women, gambling. Buying expensive cars and modifying them to go faster, run smoother. With dodging bullets in Dubai, racing in Monaco. With near-death experiences and the fact that Pepper's allergic to strawberries. That he has a heart beneath the one glowing blue beneath his shirt.]

Right. [His lips twitch upwards into a bitter half-smirk.] It was in the file. What he said on the tape.

[The conversational switch in Charles' tone almost throws Tony, but he's so used to interviews it barely shows. Just a quick quirk of his eyebrow, a flash of amusement at the sudden topic switch, the latching onto something he hadn't really thought was important. At least not compared to the rest. But hey, he'll go with it. He's been fielding questions about his parents since before he can remember.

How's it feel to be a Stark, Tony? Do you ever feel any pressure with who your father is, Tony? Will you be carrying on the family name, Tony? Now that he's gone, do you feel like you have to be the next Howard Stark, Tony? Would your father have stopped making weapons, Tony? What would your father think about the direction of your company, Tony?]

She started as soon as I could walk and talk. It was just something I had to do.

[They were a family of status. And even in the seventies, the upper class was still... a pretty fucking elite and mysterious group.]

[Charles almost wishes they had the buffer of something like a drink or a chess game (or both) while having this conversation. It made it easier to talk about serious things when you could pass it off as being casual statements and observations and questions instead of wandering into very personal territory for both parties.

And he doesn't really talk about his life before Oxford. It wasn't that it was particularly traumatic or awful, but he knows he didn't really have the best childhood possible growing up, and he prefers not to spend too much time thinking about that part of his past. It's behind him, and he'd honestly never considered moving back to Westchester until they'd needed somewhere to go after the attack on the CIA facility.

He hasn't even really talked about it to Erik, although part of that is more because he feels uncomfortable complaining about his childhood when he grew up comfortably, with a living-if-distant and not quite affectionate mother and a sister, while Erik was alone and hurting and had to fight for everything that came to him.]

My mother was the same way. [His father, less so, but he'd died when he was young and Charles couldn't really remember if it was something he'd impressed on him too much.]

Although I suppose it's a bit different when everyone expects you to eventually inherit the family business. I was just expected to be polite and generally seen but not heard.

[He raises his eyebrows a bit, curious despite himself.]

Shoot.

[His evasion tactics are the best don't even question them]

Except Stark is definitely the superior name. [But that's... an interesting point. Namely since at one point they were (and still are, to some circles) referring to the company as Stark Enterprises.]

[That'd be a bit of a grin, there.]

Yeah, uh. I'll take the trophy for "Best Barge Superhero" now.

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10th Command; Video - dated to the night after the breach ended

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