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

[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

spam;

spam;

spam;