10851/Surviving Infinity: Slugs and Besties

Surviving Infinity: Slugs and Besties
Date of Scene:	24 January 2020
Location:	Newok camp, Khundian Empire
Synopsis:	Tony and Steve make plans, inventions, and discuss the lousy aliens.
Cast of Characters:	Iron Man, Captain America
Tinyplot:	Surviving Infinity

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Iron Man has posed:
"What I wouldn't give for room service right now," Tony laments. The pair are in a small hut-like structure raised off of the ground, with some woody-smelling pelts of fur to lay on, and mixed leathers woven with feathers to use as additional bedding.

"And I do not mean a flat cat-faced creature coming to offer slug-a-shish-ka-bob again," Tony adds. He's laying on his back on one of the pelts, one arm pulled up over his face, eyes tucked into the inside of his elbow, other arm partially flung out to the side. His interest in not being stuck uncomfortably close to Steve's sleeping spot was NOT heard; the cat-aliens have itty bitty dwellings and it's been a little 'cozy'. And Tony is a sprawler.

"Why does it suddenly smell like feet," Tony grumbles.

Captain America has posed:
"I don't know, Tony, but maybe if you stick your nose in your armpit, you'll smell you and not whatever else you're smelling," mumbles Steve, sounding as if he were already half-asleep in his collection of furs and pelts. In his opinion, it's much better than the platform beds he'd managed to pull together out of limbs and leaves -- at least it kept them dry and off the damp cave floor!

Regardless, he can be seen to lift his head up and squint at the interior of the small hut. He's been curled back to Tony in the fetal position; otherwise, his feet would have extended outside of the hut proper. An audible sniff...and another...and the Captain frowns.

"...it does smell like feet. No...not feet...rancid cabbage. Or Limburger. Or mold in the walls. Could be mold. It's not me," he's sure to point out as he lays his head down again on his bundling of furs acting as a pillow. "Ignore it 'nd see about sleeping, Tony. Who knows when they'll offer us another slug."

Iron Man has posed:
"The slugs smelled like pickles; I'd take that over this," Tony says, and pushes to sit up. As he does, his blanket slides down, which exposes some arc reactor, making the interior of the hut light up.

"Nee-ah achu! NEE!" says some voices outside in alarm, and they scatter.

"I think that was the audience we had that smelled like feet. I'm not sure that's better," Tony says, rubbing his face with the back of his hand, squinting. He rotates, putting back to Steve's back now: pressure as Tony turns around, to face one of the walls where the kit of his belongings was put. "I'm going to generate some heat for us. As great as the spooning idea //is//."

Captain America has posed:
Hearing the sudden upkick and dispersal of curious alien bodies, Steve again lifts his head and peers at the entrance to the hut. He can't see anyone out there anymore; the light must have startled them good.

"You do that, Tony. Just don't set the hut on fire. Could be worse -- 'nd if it's between freezing to death 'nd spooning, I hope you choose spooning. Kept a lot of us alive during the war when a fire would've drawn enemy snipers instead. Lucky enough that nobody's got anything more'n a spear around here that I've seen." Beneath his dropped head, the furs settle and regain their collected warmth. Those broad ribs rise and fall in a huge, silent sigh. It's definitely one of those long-suffering sighs.

Iron Man has posed:
"If you have to save my life via spooning, there better not be witnesses, even little furry ones," Tony says without turning his head. There's soft sounds of him picking through his parts.

"I've never set a hut on fire. If I start now, it won't be one I'm sitting in." Tony glances back. "/Maybe/ one you are sitting in," he adds. Tony's mood is actually not terrible; he's not lashing out, he's just upset at being unable to do much in the dark, cold camp of creatures that have sticks for technology.

Tony fiddles with the gauntlet some, and then links it to his mobile device, the glow lighting up his face and hands as he keys in some new code for energy feed levels within the guantlet.

Captain America has posed:
"Pretty sure all of America, if not the world, will be pretty annoyed if you set a hut I'm sitting in on fire," Steve notes, his voice bland. He audibly yawns. "Oh, nope, it'd be Janet. Janet would deal with you. Don't think you'd do that knowing this." Yep: that's some near-silent laughter that peters out into another sigh.

"Bet they've about figured out a way to get to us now. Maybe they're mucking with the satellite dishes or...using off-world connections. Mean, we're not impossible to find. Might find us if you keep fiddling with your arc reactor, it's got a good energy output." Soft sounds of him shifting around are followed by another yawn. "It'll be fine, Tony. A little warmth'll be a good thing."

Iron Man has posed:
"So the current plan is... we figure out how to communicate with these Mogwi, and they take us to somewhere with some more tech. I can use that to either signal or, hey, maybe there will be a ship. But this Bear Jamboree time here isn't my ultimate vacation destination," Tony says. He doesn't mind talking, he can multitask, absolutely. He finishes with the code programming, and returns to the glove, adjusting the output there, and then feed a lead from his chest to the glove.

It powers up, and Tony flicks a setting on his device. The glove, seated upright, begins to glow heavily, and heat starts to roll off of it in a wave.

"Mmmm, Maybe sixty percent, less sauna," Tony comments. "I can feel my pores. And they are full of grime." He adjusts the glove a little more, and then brings down the blinding light quite a bit. Warmth pulses off of the gauntlet, and Tony extends both palms to it as if it were a fire.

"Sometimes I impress myself. This isn't really one of those times, but I'm still awesome."

Captain America has posed:
At this point, the super-soldier realizes he's not going to get to sleep anytime soon. Scrubbing at his face helps the Captain wake up more. A push of an arm and now he's rotating to his other side, towards Tony and the beacon-light of this newest invention. Steve's face cranes up to look over the genius-inventor's shoulder at the gadget and he nods to himself.

"Not bad, Tony...not bad." Rotating away to return to spine-to-spine with the other man, he then plunks his head down again. "Feels like it'll get warm soon enough. A shower does sound delightful though. They're a luxury, y'know, if you think about it. Used to wash myself in a tin tub with a sponge 'nd a bucket of water. Went three weeks without bathing once on a mission in the Alps. If it wasn't for the snow, think my boots might've started talking to me." He is, of course, smiling at his own dry humor unseen.

Iron Man has posed:
"Unless it rains, I don't see that happening, all of this water came up as being infested with this biological crap," Tony says. "That's the scientific term for 'alien life form that might infect and kill you', no need to bother with it," Tony smirks. "Even the rain has some of it in it, and we'll probably need a big dose of medical treatment when we get off this planet."

Tony is annoyed but not pessimistic, at least. He adjusts the heat, and then seems to stop moving around, and just rests his arms on his raised knees. There's some shuffling of the aliens outside the hut, but Tony ignores it. "Sadly, I'm serious about the communication thing. Figure out if they know anything. Maybe other bunkers like the one we were in."

Captain America has posed:
"So we take some dewormer 'nd call it good," the super-soldier mutters and laughs to himself again. He scratches at his jawline, gone prickly with scruff, and up into his hair with blunt nails, and very quietly does not admit to himself that he might now have some form of alien-lice after lying on the pelt-made bed.

Unable to help himself, Steve takes a moment to stretch out one leg followed by the other. It means his booted feet emerge from the hut and there's another spate of jittering as the aliens scatter yet again. Pulling his legs back in, the man blows a sputtering sigh. "Can't use spoken language. Can't use ASL, they probably wouldn't it. That leaves drawing pictures. Simple stylized pictures, like hieroglyphs or something -- try drawing the bunker 'nd a picture of that Mikonia being."

Iron Man has posed:
"You're the artist," Tony says with a snap of fingers and one finger aimed back over his shoulder. He knows even if Steve isn't looking, he'll feel the shift of weight and hear the snap sound.

"My plan is continue to be worshipped and avoid any ritual sacrifice ideas," Tony snarks, still fiddling with his device. He pauses, and extends a hand backwards to the larger man. "Give me your phone. You have it, right?" Tony asks. He doesn't sound like he's laughing or going to do something odd, though it may be questionable about if Steve gets it back or not.

Captain America has posed:
"Yes, I'm the artist -- what do you want with my phone, Tony?" Rustling means Steve's turning mostly onto his back to squint at the genius-inventor. The man is primarily a darkened silhouette with the glow of the heat-emitting glove behind him. "I was keeping it in case it caught some signal."

Which both men know is patently ridiculous given their location and the sheer number of light-years between it and Earth itself, but...in the Captain, hope dies a slow, slow death. His own optimism has made him check it once a day, otherwise turning it off to preserve battery life.

Still, there it is, appearing after Steve reaches into the interior pocket of his wrecked dress-vest. He holds it out towards Tony with a look of curious concern.

Iron Man has posed:
"You're so suspicious. I thought we were friends. Now that we're sharing body heat, besties," Tony says, rolling his eyes and taking the phone away from Steve. "You're my favorite person on this planet," Tony says, amusement in his tone. It's not being handed things when Tony reaches out for them first, so there's no hit to his peeve. He accepts it, turns it on, checking it over.

Tony then reaches into his medical kit, and picks through his wire collection. He chains from his own phone to Steve's, and then from his to his arc reactor, and then passes Steve's phone, still connected by wire, back. "I'm downloading all your porn," Tony deadpans.

Tony's charging Steve's phone.

Captain America has posed:
Steve snorts and smirks. "Tony, I'm the only other person on this planet that we're aware of." Still, he reclines on one elbow and watches, his eyes following the inventor's manipulation of the phone. Another minor itch makes him reach back and rub behind his ear.

He snorts yet again at the dry comment. "If you're worried about porn on my phone, don't read any texts from Janet." On that return sass, the Captain then rolls back over to present his back to the whole affair. He wants to sleep and it's finally beginning to influence him. "Thanks for charging my phone, bestie," he's sure to add in a much more friendly manner. A yawn follows. "Maybe try sleeping though. We don't know when the critters wake up. Could be nice and early for another slug."

Mmm, slugs.