aggravating | 13th Command; text/spam

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13th Command; text/spam

So. Since this place is apparently just like back home as far as tabloids and gossip columns and the latest tumblr blog... for those of you who didn't happen to hear in one of the fifty completely open and unfiltered conversations about this particular subject:

I've been sent to Zero to sober up. Absolutely tragic loss to the extremely limited party life here on the barge. But. Everyone's invited to my room when I get out for a bit of fun.

[SPAM FOR... LEVEL ZERO VISITS?]

[Tony. Is. Miserable.

Regardless of how he's coming across on the network, to the few people who've pinged him, the few conversations he's had to have, he's not doing well. He's pale and sweating, and the puking's only stopped by now because he has nothing left in him. He's shaking from the withdrawal, just kind of huddled in a corner, a few water bottles scattered around him and his communicator within grabbing distance.

He's pissed for no reason, paranoid and anxious, depressed, and a little out of breath. Because despite the glowing blue circle in his chest making sure his heart keeps beating at a relatively steady rate? It's still pounding and racing, sending small spasms through the damaged muscles around the metal casing shoved in his sternum.

He looks like crap, he feels like crap, and what's even worse? He knows he's going to have visitors. Because for some reason, despite his absolute best efforts to keep it from happening? People on this hell barge actually seem to worry. It's weird.]

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[... Of all the people to come and visit him - which, by the way, still weird, would never stop being weird. People just didn't give a crap about him like that, normally - Clint was kind of way at the bottom of the list.

Which is why Tony might just be staring at the bananas like they're actually some strange, writhing alien species Clint's trying to kill him with.]

.... Are they poisoned? They're poisoned, aren't they.

[They can fail at conversation together, apparently.]

Yes.

Because me, the sharpshooter and master assassin sharpshooter would resort to using poisoned bananas.

[OH SNAP TONY.

OH SNAP. and isn't it amazing how much he sounds like Natasha when he says it?]

...You don't even have a TV. Damn.

Avenger. Though you kinda called it quits by the time I showed up.

Oh, okay. [He's so weird sometimes, but she sets it down within his reach anyway. It's all good.]

I think he's pretty angry still, yeah. Mostly about the wheelchair. I think he was pretty pissed off at Steve, too. [Maybe she should go, but she's stubborn and she also kind of wants to see if he's apologetic yet, or if he even realizes (or remembers) everything he did. On top of making sure he's going to be okay.]

[You have no idea how weird, Ariadne. He's leaving the food now, giving her a little quirk of his lips in a Tony Stark version of thank you]

He got pissed at Captain America? [Okay that has a bit of life returning to his face, a glimmer of disbelief and a whole lot of amusement.] And I missed that? Damn.

Tell me he at least yelled at him.

[He can't stand up for too long, still. He's just too weak from being sick, too shaky all together. So, he slides down the wall, sitting down before he falls down, and just kind of squints up at Ariadne for a moment.]

... I was in the art room earlier, wasn't I?

Uuuuuuh huh. Right.
There a reason I ditched out then? Or is it some super secret future breaking deal? Because I'm not really buying that whole teammate from the future thing.

[It's not amazing, really. It's absolutely terrifying and he is basically sure you two both crawled out of the same super spy cloning pod group or something. Jesus, Hawkass.]

... Not exactly reassuring. But okay. Bananas, electrolytes. I can get behind that. [He's just not going to make a move to take them.]

Lowest class prison cell I've ever had the pleasure of visiting.

Kind of meant desktop, laptop, or iPad.
Holographic interface or do you want an actual keyboard?

[He's honestly just a little annoyed at how easily some people are talking about his, uh, drunken episode in completely unfiltered conversations. Can't escape the tabloids even here.

But aside that, yeah, he... isn't okay. He's sick and cresting over the first withdrawal wave, more coherent than he was at the start, by the time Zev gets there. But even then it takes him until she speaks to raise his head and shield his eyes against the overhead lights, dimmed as they might be.

Eventually, he shifts, wincing just a little at how stiff he is, and does his best to give her at least a slight grin]

You mean beside the hard, hard life of a party animal? [He tries a chuckle, and almost immediately regrets it.] Just drank too much, don't worry. I've done this all before.

[At this point? He's just tired. Tired of feeling like crap, of the barest dent the ibuprofen had provided in his headache. He's been munching on saltines only to throw them up a moment later. Only the bananas stayed down for any actual amount of time. Long enough for him to digest at least, for them to do something good for his tired, withdrawal filled body.

So when Perry holds out what he recognizes as something bigger, something stronger... there's tension, sure. Anxiety. A twitch in his eye and a quick drumming of his fingers, but in the end he's reaching up, taking the pills as quickly as possible.

Getting one down, however... is a whole other struggle.]

What, no smarmy jab about trying not to OD?

Oh, uh, laptop I guess. Real keyboard. Anything else and I'll probably break it somehow.

Do you even have the stuff for this?

[Clint sets them down close to the bars and steps back. He gets that.]

Looks a little like military detention to me.

...you want a book or something? A magazine? [Porn? Do you want porn Tony? Marines translates to Navy and the Navy always has a good stack of porn.]

Actually, pretty much everyone jumped ship for a bit then there was a pretty major incident and Steve decided to put together a new team.

And I dunno if you're from the past or from an entirely different universe all together. Last time I was on the Barge, there was another person I knew but who didn't know me so I'm guessing it's the latter.

Does the name Luke Cage sound familiar at all?

[Ariadne's lips twitch. Somehow, she thought he might find that amusing, even in his current state of misery.]

I wasn't party to any yelling. [Charles knows better than to yell at someone where other people might hear, after all.

She shoves her hands in her pockets and squats down so he doesn't have to look up at her. That's way too awkward, for both of them.]

Yeah, you were. Did you think you were gonna build something out of Jesse's scrap wood? Or just paint a pretty picture? [Her voice doesn't carry any kind of accusation in it - she actually just wants to know why he chose the art room, or if it was... just an easy target.]

Seriously?

[ Are you secretly twelve. :| ]

Seriously. They'd spend all their time studying for exams and then get pissed when I aced them.

[Because you cheated, Barron. :c]

[She settles down be the bars.]

I don't care.

[She means that, but not in the way of scolding him.] I know it doesn't always help- some things people tell me are wrong, I think are right. But I don't care what you've done right now, because you've helped me when I needed it.

I know I can't let you out, but I want to be here for you.

I'm sorry, did you want one?

[There probably weren't enough pills left for that, anyway, but Perry still manages to be both flat and condescending in his delivery. It doesn't last, though. He's much more matter-of-fact, even dryly conversational, as he continues.]

I've got a few about your artistic contributions to society and one good one about tomorrow's National Enquirer headline, if you'd prefer one of those.

[He has indeed, and he's come out of bars smelling very similar, but at this point in his life anyway he's definitely not the alcoholic in the family. And going by this display, he never wants to be.

Well. Hell is Hell. It's supposed to ruin everything, one supposes.]

Didn't say you were. [Have a smirk and a careful,neutral voice back, Tony. Dean seems unfazed by the narrowed eyes and the tension.] I just know it's hard to keep track of when four hours is up and how many are already down the chute.

Was it worth it?

You get used to holographic after a while, once you stop punching things trying to get the text to clear.

[Oh, you should see his face right now.]

I'm resourceful.

[Build a fully functioning arc reactor and a crude suit in a cave from a box of scraps kind of resourceful.]

[He actually visibly relaxes, once he sees he's not going to have to have another one of those "don't hand me things, just put it down" conversations.]

Pretty accurate, yeah. Definitely feels crappy enough.

[He's raising an eyebrow at you, Clint]

... I have my helmet in my room. It has some movies on it. [And if you get it for him you might be his best friend for the day] Gotta say, of all teammates to come for a check-in, didn't expect you.

Sounds about right. For the future or whatever.
My universe is better. Just for the record. And if we're comparing.
Not at all.

[He's grateful for her getting down on his level, so he didn't have to look up any more. Not that he couldn't still posture and try to, well, look less pathetic while sitting down, but he didn't really have the energy for it. Honestly? It's just... a bit less stressful. More....... appreciated. As uncomfortable as that is to even think, for him.

Tony Stark is just that allergic to anything emotional.]

Yeah, he's smart. Sucks, cause I'd pay to hear that. [He shifts, just a little uncomfortably, avoiding looking at Ariadne for a moment, just narrowing his eyes at the wall in front of him.

Why had he picked the art room? He'd been pissed, drunk, wandering around...] Dunno.

I think colors were offensive at that point.

What? He did.

[More like ten. He was practically graduating high school when he was twelve.]

Edited 2012-09-17 16:41 (UTC)

I could probably use the practice. Everything's turning holographic these days.

[ Batman is a fan of holographs, and O and Proxy aren't around to help her anymore. ]

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13th Command; text/spam

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