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.]

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[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.

13th Command; text/spam

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