Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aggravating) wrote2012-08-01 09:30 pm
aggravating) wrote2012-08-01 09:30 pm
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)]
... 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)]
[Private]
But he keeps his cool.]
Erik won't be a problem.
[Private]
But he's shoving things aside in order to get a bit of power behind a grin]
Right, right. I'll be up in a few minutes, then.
[Which is when he's reaching over to turn the video feed off, giving himself a moment to scowl to himself, to glower and get pissed. Not just at Charles, but at himself.
He's not an idiot. He knows, in his gut, that he's drinking too much. He just doesn't care. The ache and need to drink outweighs the glimmer of discomfort. And god knows drinking will get rid of it all together. But he has to be smarter, has to work, now.
Thank God he's getting a supply for his room, now.
Either way, true to his word, about ten minutes later he's leaning his shoulder against Charles' door-frame, rapping his knuckles rhythmically against the door itself.]
[Private]
He gets the door open and gestures into the room.]
Hello. Please, take a seat.
WAIT NO I MEAN [Spam]
Pass. [He nods towards the chair] How's it handling? [Small talk, right? Always a safe thing to start out with.]
[Spam] lmfao WHOOPS my bad
[Spam]
[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?
[Spam]
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...]
[Spam]
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.
[Spam]
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.]
[Spam]
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.]
[Spam]
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.
[Spam]
And even then, JARVIS couldn't quite keep up.
But he could benefit from a chess game, especially one with Charles. The guy was smart, for someone devoted to only one discipline. A geneticist, sure, and not his own personal choice in studies, but there was nothing inherently wrong with them. Not the smart ones, at least. The ones that found that their focus branched into others, that biology wasn't the end all be all of breakthroughs.
Still, he leans forward slightly on his knees, eyeing Charles with a stubborn blankness to his face, just the slightest hint of curiosity in his eyes.]
I thought I smelled money on you. What was it, inheritance? [Surprisingly enough? After a small pause, Tony's actually... giving something up. Just a small thing. But it's still something from his past. From a vault usually locked up tighter than Fort Knox.] At parties, that's what I was supposed to be. Seen, not heard. The son they showed off who never opened his mouth, never knocked anything over. [He smirks] Didn't light the kitchen on fire during a benefit trying to make a stove cook faster.
[Spam]
And his room on the Barge was from the family mansion, so there was that, too. It's hard to ignore, and while he doesn't really like talking about it and certainly doesn't brag, it's still not something people were generally able to ignore.]
My father came from money, although I wouldn't say my mother was destitute before she married him. [Her family had been well off, from what he remembered, and they'd probably met at some society function or another. He wasn't actually sure of the details, as it had been explained to him when he was young and he'd never really asked again after Brian Xavier had passed away. His mother had seemed pretty content never to discuss him unless she had to, and while he knew they loved each other, it seemed better to just let sleeping dogs lie.
And he shrugs this off too, focusing instead on the tidbit Tony offered up and grinning, amused, because that was a bit more extreme than anything he and Raven had gotten away with as kids, except maybe Charles convincing his mother she had a daughter, but. That was different.]
Did you actually do that? How old were you?
[Spam]
Tony was bred to have manners, to know all the social customs of high society. He just didn't give a crap anymore. He'd had all of that beaten into his head and then he'd gathered it all up and dumped it on the curb almost as soon as his parents died.]
What, the stove thing? Six, maybe seven. Jarv- [He stops, mid word, brow pinching before he grins, wide and harsh, eyes sharp as he stares at Charles, his expression guarded.] You're good, I'll give you that. You use the mind thing for that? [The slip of the tongue, the information he'd started to give out, information that even Pepper and Rhodey didn't actually know.]
Jarvis, the family butler, had given me a cake a few weeks before, so I'm pretty sure I was seven. Parents celebrated my birthday whenever it corresponded with a benefit. It was easier, and I never actually cared. [Which is why he can say it with a shrug of the shoulder, burying the one pertinent piece of information under a load of facts completely detached from any sort of... affection. Worth. Things he'd let the papers know, let them think was a juicy piece of gossip.
He honestly just didn't care. Birthdays didn't start to matter until they were an excuse to go even more wild than he already was.]
[Spam]
He could be a bit of a dick about how and when he used his powers, but he did have some idea of right and wrong.
So he listened and nodded when he was finished, understanding, and again offering something else up.]
I used to have to "tell"- [And here he gestured at his temple, just to make it clear what kind of telling he really meant.] My mother what my sister and I wanted for Christmas or our birthdays. I didn't care so much about myself, but I wanted to make sure Raven at least had a decent holiday.
[Spam]
[... Okay, he should probably stop drinking and talking, but you know what? Fuck that.]
And people always want to be rich. [His lips twitch up into a bitter smile] Funny how much it actually sucks.
[Spam] lol whoops misplaced this tag
It does, doesn't it? [He wasn't stupid enough to argue that they'd had it worse than anyone else, but it was sort of amazing that having all the money in the world still didn't guarantee a happy childhood, or good relationships with your parents.
Or at least, it hadn't for them.]
What was it like, finding the tape?
[Spam] ITS FORGIVEN WE HAVE LIKE 50 GOING RIGHT NOW 8D
And Charles, so far, has been one of those people. For better or for worse.]
Everyone has some sort of issue. [He's not stupid enough to argue that either.
He's seen soldiers coming back from war, seen the look in refugees eyes in the middle of the desert, walking through endless sand dunes to try and escape the terrorists destroying their homes, their lives.
But oh, Charles has to go for the big ones, the ones that make Tony visibly flinch, have him quiet for a long time, comparatively speaking, just staring absently at the wall over Charles' shoulder.]
... One minute doesn't change seventeen years. [.........] Too little, too late.
[Honestly? He still doesn't know. His own bitterness has more than soiled that message, as of late]
[Spam] AND THEN I MAKE IT WORSE orz
Even if some days it seemed like it was going to be next to impossible. Today, at least, it seemed like they were making some kind of progress.]
Understandable. [He honestly didn't know what he'd do if he found something like that years later. Being a telepath, he knew his mother wasn't really that thrilled about actually being a mother, and he wasn't sure if that was better or worse, having a parent who couldn't hide how little she cared or a parent who seemed incapable of expressing their concern in any healthy way.] What was he like?
[And he wanted an honest answer, not some story for a newspaper or whatever.]
[Spam]
So he reaches up, rubbing two fingers against his temple, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what he told Fury.]
Cold, distant, never told me he loved me or even liked me. [That part, said like a speech. Remembered words he'd said in his annoyance. The next bit? More fluid. Said as he opens his eyes and almost seems to slump.] Drunk and strict, didn't believe in playing, just believed in success. Any time I wasn't inventing or studying I was just an annoyance. More involved in his work and SHIELD than his family.
[There are stories there, obviously. But for now? That's the most honest he's ever been about his relationship with his dad.
And it's not sitting well with him.]
[Spam]
So there's a part of him that feels like he should, again, offer something about himself in exchange for the information, assure him that he wasn't alone and he understood what it was like to be in that situation, even if they weren't entirely the same. But it's not something he likes thinking about, let alone discussing, and it's not the same as telling Erik or one of their recruits that there were people out there like them, so he swallows the truth and keeps the conversation focused on Tony instead.
Sometimes, he can be a bit of a coward.]
I know this is a strange question, and I'm not asking as an armchair psychologist, but- [And he hesitates for a beat, trying to decide the best way to phrase this.] What do you think he'd think of all this? Not about you being on the Barge, but about Iron Man, and where you've taken the company? Is there anything you wish you could tell him about it?
[There's a lot of earnestness in the questions, and his expression, in a way a therapist or an interviewer probably wouldn't be. He actually cares about the response, and wants to know what Tony would do, if for whatever reason Howard Stark arrived on the Barge tomorrow, because there are a few key things Charles would like to discuss with him, and he assumes there would be for Tony, too.]
[Spam]
And yet here he is, sitting in front of Charles, saying things he'd never thought he would to anyone. Things even Pepper hadn't heard him admit. Things the world guessed at, assumed, but never actually nagged enough to get Tony annoyed, tired, saying screw it and giving them what they wanted. It's just... strange, finding himself exhausted to that point of just not caring what Charles knows anymore.
It still helps that the file laid out the biggest secrets in his life.]
Not as an armchair psychologist? [Okay, he can't help but quirk an eyebrow at that.] All you're missing is a mustache, a few sexual harassment dolls, and a clipboard.
[But Charles' expression has him drawing up short. Sure, a part of him has always been prepared to answer this question... but here and now? He's taken by surprise, just furrowing his brow at Charles, not even thinking to look away as confusion floods through him, a touch of annoyance a second later.] He'd hate it. [A jerky shrug of his shoulder]
He made our name in weapons, carved out a place at the top because of it. The fact that I stopped? He'd hate it, wouldn't let me hear the end of it, either. Iron Man... [That one he's less certain about, actually. And it shows in the few seconds of hesitation, there] He'd like War Machine better. Sold to the military, outfitted with guns and bombs, all the bells and whistles.
[His lips twist just slightly, though, at that last question.] There's a few things I'd want to say to him. None of them are about the company or Iron Man.
[And he is so not going into that, Charles. No matter what kind of pushing you do.]