aggravating | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Dean isn't pissed off, not even close; at least not by the giggling. He meets a look all too familiar to him steadily, unfazed and unimpressed, hand dropping back to his side. There's no change in the look, none at all.]

No. Because you haven't - you don't care enough about that. [There's no uncertainty whatsoever in Dean about this - not to mention the evidence is right in front of him. If anything, any genius alcoholic would work first on curing hangovers and then work on liver function. One is immediate and present and painful - the other is a slow, silent killer, not one anyone thinks about until it's too late.

Dean knows.]

Could have but didn't - I know Charles well enough to know he wouldn't go for this first. I don't give a shit what you do drunk as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else - but the next time? It's...

[He cuts off for a moment, falling silent. This isn't going to solve anything.

The elder Winchester picks a different angle.]

Her name's Pepper, right?

[Tony rubs hard at his forehead, bringing his hand around to press his index and middle fingers hard against one temple, as if that will make the pounding in his head just go away for a moment.]

It's on my list of things to take care of. [After, you know, the next suit upgrade, turning around clean energy, getting his stock up again when he gets back home, in the aftermath of everything with the Chitauri, Pepper... his liver isn't going anywhere, and it hasn't been a problem yet.

He has time before he has to deal with that.

Still, he doesn't bother answering the bit about Charles, thinking too much about that makes his brain hurt. So instead, Tony just squints up at Dean again, raising his eyebrows, wondering what the hell he's on about this time and--

Pepper.

The mention of one name is all it takes to slap a serious expression on Tony's face. To have his brow furrow and his eyes narrow.]

What about Pepper?

[The abrupt shift in demeanor is all it takes to tell Dean he was right; he'd been bluffing, playing on a hunch from the network conversations and hallway interactions he'd seen despite never having actually spoken to the woman himself nor to Tony about her before. And he's still talking out his ass, but this isn't an unfamiliar story to him; he's fairly confident, no matter what the mysterious Pepper's personality or standing, he knows the lines.]

She cares about you and you care about her. Maybe even love. Right? What's she think about all this jackassery?

[Tony's used to fielding questions about this, has been batting back statements from the press for the last two years regarding his and Pepper's relationship. Well, even longer than that, really. After all, Tony Stark with a female PA for over ten years? Had to be something fishy there, right?

But this... someone on this stupid ship throwing love into his face, throwing Pepper at him in order to try and what? Get him to shape up? Admit he's being an asshole? Make him feel bad about himself?

It works, kind of. Dean does have a point, even Tony would admit that. But Pepper's not here to give him that disappointed look again, and it's really not the worst thing she'd caught him doing drunk. It's not the biggest mess, the worst blow-up. He'd done way worse than this to her.]

My personal life isn't actually any of your business. [It's said calmly, a practiced statement. One he can easily follow up with a cool smirk.] She knows exactly how much of an asshole I am.

[But Dean isn't the press - he's not digging for the story at all costs, he doesn't even really care about the details. That's not the damn point at all. The point is that Tony has shifted mannerisms again and if this is no more realistic than the joking, nothing-sticks-and-everything-slides-right-off jackassery, well, Dean's okay with that.

As long as something, anything, is getting through. He shrugs amiably - Tony's personal life isn't any of his business, and he's pretty damn sure anyone who's met Tony is aware of the fact he's an asshole if not how much. Dena himself has the same problem.

Like with Dean, though, it doesn't make it okay.]

Doesn't mean she's happy about it. But you're right, that's none of my business.

[He unfolds his arms, steps back from the bars.] Not that I expect to hear from you, but if you need anything, give a holler. I'll be around and I keep my mouth shut.

[Smirk.] Believe it or not.

13th Command; text/spam

[ Spam ]

[ Spam ]

[ Spam ]

[ Spam ]

[ Spam ]