13th Command; text/spam

[aggravating]

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.]

Comments

[lacksconviction]

What a generous invitation to extend to us scattered and oppressed souls. I have so missed your company.

[aggravating]

[Wow. Rude. RUDE, LOKI.]

Aww, babycakes. I forgot to tell you. I have a strict 'No Disowned Has-Been Gods' policy.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Dean has been ignoring most of the hooplah, too busy with his own crap to bother getting involved as long as violence isn't going to erupt and crush them all. There's clearly a contingent here that all know each other and, contrary to popular belief, he's more intelligent than to step into the middle of THAT mess and all the landmines it contains.

Instead, it was his shift as one of the wardens watching Zero that showed him Tony and how badly fucked up he is. Normally Dean would avoid that, too, because he wouldn't want some asshole all up in his business; also, he's had enough drunk dealings to last him a lifetime, thanks. But the poor guy really is kind of pathetic, and Dean genuinely likes him, so that's why he's back now with more water and a bottle of ibuprofen.]

Dude, next time, just don't dodge the bus. Your head'll feel better, I promise.

[ Spam ]

[aggravating]

[That's another thing he hates about Zero. The endless rotation of Wardens keeping an eye on him, making sure he has enough water that he won't die of dehydration. Peeking in and seeing him like this. It was as bad as the paparazzi, as puking into a toilet when he was seventeen and seeing cameras flashing from under the stall door.

... At least this time, here, it comes with painkillers. As mild as ibuprofen might be.

Tony pushes himself up, shaky but moving, and walks on over to the doorway, takes the bottle and the pills (normally he'd flinch, he'd refuse, but his head is pounding and his body weak and he needs to seem normal so even though the anxiety hits and hits hard, he takes what's being handed) and gives Dean a half-grin before sliding down the nearest wall, legs all but giving out from under him. His fingers are trembling - withdrawal withdrawal withdrawal - but somehow he manages to get the bottle open, taking a swig of water before responding in a shaky, hoarse voice.]

Tempting. Don't suppose you'll shoot me and just let me work through the death toll instead?

Video;

[vfranklinmott]

So I take it's your mess I had to clean up. [Not even a question. But he's not upset. Only amused.] You really should handle your drink better, sir.

permatext;

[aggravating]

For the record: that was a highly stylized trashing, if you backed up about two stories and looked down at it, it'd be like looking at a Picasso.

[Just thinking a big SCREW YOU at the second part of your message there, pal]

[sharpememory]

Maybe we need to start partying in the CES. Then the Admiral can clean up the mess.

[aggravating]

You ever party by a lake? Cause let me tell you, awesome stuff.

text;

[ichoosefight]

I would let you in to the pool or the CES if you wanted to party there instead. Food, drinks, iPod stereo all included.

text;

[aggravating]

You're still running an iPod?
When I get back in the lab, I'm building you a better one.

[Not... touching the partying thing again. There's only so much BS he can handle right now, and if you bring a pool into it? He's pretty sure he'd just end up falling in and drowning, considering... the last few days.]

[Private]

[notiaraincluded]

[Okay, he's been hearing the name Tony Stark thrown around for a while and he's been meaning to ask this for a while.]

Please tell me the name Iron Man rings a bell outside of a song by the same name.

[Private/permatext!]

[aggravating]

[Welcome back to the barge, Tony occasionally breaks it, now.]

Let me guess, another adoring fan?

[Please say yes God he needs the attention.]

spam;

[buildindreemz]

[It's not her patrol, she just... maybe she feels a little responsible, since she was the one who handed Tony over to his Warden and all.

And she knows the guy is a drunk, and she knows Charles took away all his booze, so he's probably feeling pretty shitty right now. So she goes to the kitchens, makes a couple pieces of plain toast, grabs a box of saltine crackers and a few water bottles, then heads down to Zero.]

Tony? I uh. I brought you some food, for when you want to try eating.

spam;

[aggravating]

[Honestly? He'd been expecting the wardens on charge to maybe talk to him, and maybe a visit from his warden, a lecture from Captain America. What he wasn't expecting was for someone to just... go out of their way and see him. And hell, to bring him food while they were at it.

So all Ariadne's getting for a good thirty seconds is an incredulous stare before he blinks, ducks his head slightly, to try and hide a quick smile, before he pushes himself up, running a hand through sweat-drenched hair in an attempt to make it look less plastered down, to make him look a little more normal as he leans against the bars as casually as he can.]

Getting there. Haven't lost it in almost an hour. [Still shaking, still twitching, still paranoid and anxious but those are all things that he can hide. That he'd become so good at hiding, back home.] Charles too pissed to come down himself?

[Because that has to be the reason. Has to be why she'd come down and visited. It's honestly the only thing that makes sense.]

[Spam]

[wedonot]

[Charles has kept true to his word, dropping by periodically to see how Tony's doing, and bringing with him water and food and a change of clothes from Tony's room. He doesn't stay long, because honestly, he's still angry with him, and he knows Tony's too sick to have much of a real conversation with him right now.

This time, he has more water and a box of saltines and he stops just short of the bars separating him and his inmate, looking him over carefully.]

How are you feeling?

[Spam]

[aggravating]

[To be honest, for the first few hours he hadn't even really noticed Charles had been there. He'd been too busy leaning over a toilet, a bucket, emptying everything out of his system. His mind had whirled and flickered and had been going too slow and too fast all at once. Delirium had set in, for a while, as the immediate withdrawal warred with his hangover.

The last few times, though, he'd been getting better. Still miserable, still dry heaving, still pale as all hell, but he'd noticed Charles' presence, hadn't been able to acknowledge it, but he'd still noticed it.

This time, however, Tony's sitting up instead of slumped on his side. He's still shaking, still breathing quickly and laboriously, but his eyes are more focused, honing in on Charles' figure on the-]

Like shit. [His voice is even worse than earlier. Weaker, scratchier, like he's been swallowing nails and gargling with acid. Still, he sits up a bit further, nodding in greeting and to... bring Charles' attention down a little.] You got a new chair, huh?

[It... hurts, a little. But he's had experience with this. With the feeling of disappointment, the subtle to everyone and crushing to him step backwards that people take. Rhodey mad at him for cutting off his supply to the military, the way Obie's face closed off when he denied him access to the arc reactor. It was like that, in a way. But in another way it's... even worse.

That was stopping something. Stopping something that meant a lot to him. This was... making something. Something he'd never made before, with tech he didn't trust with anyone else. Making something useful and helpful, meant to make someone's life easier. Something he hadn't managed to do before, something he rarely got to see.

And all he managed to do was fuck it up.]

spam

[thestarspangledman]

[Steve's been keeping an eye on Tony, too -- not really staying long for conversations, just bringing bottles of water and the like -- at least not until he's sure Tony feels like having conversations. Otherwise, he's just passing by to give him a checkover every so often, make sure he's still in one piece and all.]

spam

[aggravating]

[He's getting seriously tired of all these people checking up on him. Namely just because... he's not entirely sure what to do with it. Or about it. He's used to people coming by, snapping a picture, prodding his sorry ass for interviews. And... yeah, sure, it makes sense that Cap would be seeing if he's alive or something.

But considering all the other people also bringing him water, food, clothes...

It's just weird. Different. Not something Tony's used to. So, finally, Tony's slumped closer to the doorway, able to give Steve a two fingered, weak wristed salute when he comes into sight.]

Still breathing, you can get over your paranoid check-ins, soldier.

[Private]

[persuadeyou]

Why do you bother talking to him?

[Seriously Tony just. stop. you make her head hurt.]

[Private]

[aggravating]

He started it.

[Well he did :| ]

SPAM.

[worldsbestmarksman]

[Here, out of nowhere is Clint who feels...this is all incredibly confusing.

And unjust. He doesn't know you Stark, and whatever your reasons he feels partially responsible for this.

Clint however, does not bring water or advil. He brings...a banana. A bunch of them actually.]

Bring up your electrolytes when your head stops hurting.

[Because that is the best way to start a conversation right?]

SPAM.

[aggravating]

[... 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.]

[cujothebigreddog]

Sobriety. So awful?

[Actually you are a refreshing change, because his boss is a type-A driven manipulative control freak and if he smashed you into Marcone you might make one functional person.]

[aggravating]

It's the absolute pits.

[You would probably be the first person in the world who's considered Tony Stark a 'refreshing change']

[spam]

[vanshrike]

[Perry's shift watching over Zero is patently uneventful; he makes a brief pit stop before showing up, but doesn't bring attention to it, doesn't talk, doesn't hover, doesn't pay Tony much acknowledgement at all-- save to pass him the last of Kozak's leftover painkillers.

He's seen every stage of this before (hell, Tony, you're practically Hollywood incarnate right now) and knows for a fact that every little bit better than over the counter helps.

Whatever the gesture itself implies, well. You're on your own with that.]

[spam]

[aggravating]

[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?

[love_slave]

[That sounds extremely unpleasant. Zev shows up at Zero, and while she's not all that endeared to Tony's reasons for being down here, she wants to make sure he's okay.

He doesn't sound okay.

She couldn't read his message all that well, and doesn't really understand what he's going through, but she sits cross legged in front of his cell with 790 in her lap anyway, staring in with that ever-present expression of compassion.]

What happened to you?

[aggravating]

[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.