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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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[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.]

Edited 2012-09-12 06:34 (UTC)

[The staring is fair enough. She's not quite sure why she's here, either, aside from that vague feeling of responsibility (and okay, maybe her argument with Barron about it).

And really, she's not fooled for a moment. She doesn't exactly have much experience, but Tony looks like death warmed over right now, there's just no way to hide how he's feeling, even if he can manage to hide some of the psychological symptoms.]

I don't know. He hasn't visited you yet? [She shrugs and offers Tony the toast and crackers.] I always start bland. Settles my stomach.

[He stares at the food she's offering, and despite the last few hours and the hours he knows are still coming? His stomach's clenching a bit, empty and finally feeling it. But there's also anxiety, tension.

Taking painkillers from Dean earlier, while half out of his mind still was one thing. Now, he's a bit more sober, a bit less sick, and definitely able to get that same obsessive sort of anxiety he normally gets from the offer. Which is why he's awkwardly waving a hand at the visiting girl.]

I think he has, never said anything. Figured he just didn't want to actually talk, so... [He trails off, drums his fingers over his arc reactor to try and calm his paranoia, his anxiety - withdrawal mixed with his own usual issue with this - and eventually just grimaces.] Yeah I don't- I can't do... getting handed things.

[A quick, jerky gesture at the ground.] Thanks, just. Put it down, I'll get it.

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?

[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.]

[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.

[Allergic to emotions, yeah, that's not hard to suss out. He's a bit like Arthur, maybe, except ten times worse and with a drinking problem. Oh, and he thinks he's a superhero.]

You know you're lucky you got paired with Charles. He's probably in the top five Wardens. [She's not saying that as some kind of accusation, it's just a fact in her mind. If she were an Inmate, Charles would be someone she'd want to be paired with.]

You didn't destroy much. Some of Jesse's things got damaged, and a model I was building needed to be scrapped. Otherwise it was mostly just paint everywhere. [And again, she's not trying to make him feel guilty, just letting him know the facts.]

[There's a long pause on Tony's end, one where he stares at Ariadne, rolls those words over in his head and... he's exhausted, still so extremely out of it. So in the end, he lets his head fall forward, hands coming up to lace his fingers over the back of it, buried in sweaty hair, elbows resting on knees being drawn up in front of his chest.

He's exhausted, and he knows, logically what this is. His brain chemistry going haywire, withdrawal and hangover flipping him from mania to depression faster than he could possibly hope to combat.]

With anyone else I'd probably just spend the entire time making their life hell. [The closest Tony's ever going to get to actually coming out and agreeing with Ariadne on that point.

Still, his hands slide through his hair, his head raising so he can pinch the bridge of his nose, head throbbing a little more at the mention of the damage] Yeah there's a uh, something I should be saying here, or... So just.

I'll build you something. Paint sorting robot. Little cleaner bots for eraser shavings.

[Something. Yeah, something, all right. An apology, is what he owes her, not some stupid gift. An apology, and a real effort to not do it again.

But Ariadne also isn't stupid - she didn't come here to make him apologize, certainly not when he's in this condition. He definitely owes her - and Jesse - an apology, but not coerced, not when he's sick like this. It'll have to be something that happens out of real remorse, when he's had a chance to look back on what he did with a clear head, not like a sullen child doing it because his parents told him he had to or he'd be grounded.

So she just shrugs it off, standing to go. There's no point sitting here, humiliating him even more and trying to make him talk.]

Just work on getting better, okay? People worry about you. And if you ever want to play Jackson Pollack again, let me know and I'll set something up for you.

[The sad thing is, this is Tony Stark trying for an apology. It's better than getting strawberries - he still can't believe she was allergic - and sitting there, tripping over words, saying I, I, I, I, I over and over again and getting nowhere. Playing with things out of agitation, nerves and ending up making a fool of himself, proving that he's the most self-centered asshole in all the land.

There's a reason he keeps Pepper near him at all times, ~~Coulson~~ or Rhodey when she can't be there. Hell, even Fury could see through his bullshit, call him out on things his mind got stuck on, sidestepped, and tried to say through the completely wrong avenues. Pepper Potts is his translator, picking up his messes and making him use actual words to talk to people. But she's not here. And all he can do is screw up his face for a moment in annoyance, frustration, before trying his best at a lopsided grin.]

Considering my version of art is vintage car restoration, probably not going to be something you'll have to worry about. [He gives a half-assed salute, though] Not much I can do down here other than sober up, so don't worry. Your art room's safe.

[Maybe that's something else he'll need to learn, once he's sobered up. Maybe giving gifts, offering his services, maybe that's not always the best way to apologize for things.

But that's for his warden to help him with, she figures. Ariadne isn't here to teach him a lesson, or make him apologize, or make him promise not to come near the art room again.

There's no rate of exchange on compassion. Maybe someday Tony will learn that, too.]

I'm not worried about my art room. It's just things. Get some rest, Tony.

[With that, she's turning to leave.]

[He'll get it some day, hopefully. But for now he was just forcing a tight grin to pull at his lips, trying not to look as tired as he suddenly felt. As weighed down by that nagging sense of guilt and unease that was pulling at his chest.]

... Yeah. [He's not going to stop her from leaving, not really going to do much else but let his expression fall a bit, as soon as he's sure her back is to him. To furrow his brow as he closes his eyes, frowning as he lets his head tip back against the wall again.]

Yeah... thanks.

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13th Command; text/spam

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