[open] gimme fuel, gimme fire

[buildsomething]

who: Tony Stark and Open
what: Tony and his bots making themselves at home
when: September 4 - 30
where: Tony's workshop, shared housing, and anywhere in between
warnings: None yet


To the surprise of absolutely no one who knew him, once Tony's workshop was even moderately livable he essentially disappeared into it. He could occasionally be found heading back and forth towards where he (technically) slept, but that was mostly to grab something he'd forgotten or on the extremely rare occasions where he decided seeing actual daylight might be a good idea. Or someone else decided it for him, and was quite happy to hold his work hostage until he went along with it.

But being able to actually work, having his own private space to get things done, settled him in a way he couldn't articulate. A slight tension to his shoulders had loosened, something that would have been hard to notice until it was suddenly gone. Tony smiled a little easier, seemed much more pleased with himself with his hands covered in grease and soot.

With Dum-E and JARVIS there, the armor tucked into a corner like a watchful sentinel, it was almost like the best parts of the last few years. Sure the lack of his usual resources made it hard to forget that he wasn't exactly at home, but all said, Tony was about as settled as he was likely to get.

At least while dealing with everything else that got thrown at him, anyway.

Comments

[fingergunning]

"I rate a Jolie? Awesome. But nah, man. I'm not going to try mass destruction or a Fight Club or anything. I just like to have access to things I need, and I like to be the one to decide what it is I need. You never know until it comes up, right?"

[buildsomething]

And there was something to be said for that, even if Tony acknowledged it with a noncommittal sort of hum. It wasn't like he could really say anything on the subject, anyway.

"Fair enough. Anything else you want specifically, or should I just go nuts?"

[fingergunning]

"... Not gonna lie. I'm kind of curious about what your definition of 'go nuts' is. Have at it. Hey, you want a beer or something? I mean, it's the least I can do, go out and snag some food and brews while you're doing all the heavy lifting."

[buildsomething]

The question made Tony pause, just the briefest hesitation. Did he want a beer? Sure. Should he have one? ...probably not, and not just because he'd been doing a whole lot more drinking than he probably should have during that whole mental regression thing.

"Make it a soda," he found himself saying, "and you've got a deal. Alcohol and soldering do not make the best combination."

[fingergunning]

"Two sodas coming up," he said, turning to head out of the man's shop to go procure drinks. If one wasn't drinking, it was just bad form to have the other one do it. "Food too?"

[buildsomething]

"Up to you," Tony said with a slightly distracted shrug. Eating wasn't a particularly high priority when he got in to work and he could already tell that this was going to be a good one.

[fingergunning]

"Back in a bit, buddy." Yes, Tony, someone was calling you buddy, and it wasn't Rhodey. Don't get all weepy over it.

Jensen headed off to find a store that sold cold drinks, picking up something like a gyro, only with meat from something he wasn't sure about, but he knew from experience tasted damn good. Grabbing two of those and a six-case of pops, he headed back to Tony's workshop, whistling as he came in. "Got some grub. Hope you don't mind orange pop. The cola whatever they have here's a bit too sweet for me."

[buildsomething]

"Just put it over there," Tony said, waving vaguely towards what was probably one of the other worktables. His attention was pretty much entirely on the screens in front of him and the bursts of incredibly rapid typing that would start up and then just as abruptly stop every so often.

Really, the fact that he'd managed to notice he was being addressed at all was probably a good sign that he wasn't too deep into it yet.

[fingergunning]

He went over to where he'd been waved, moving to set out the two gyros, popping open one pop for himself, then coming over to set another nearby Tony, but not within knocking over range of his moving arms. He'd been in this headspace before and knew that constant pestering pissed him off more than helped, so he just slid a hand in his pocket, sipped his pop, and watched a maestro work.