6080/What's the Word on Bucky Barnes

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What's the Word on Bucky Barnes
Date of Scene: 31 December 2018
Location: Avengers Mansion, New York City
Synopsis: The mercurial Janet van Dyne tries to reassure a distraught Cap. She learns something new about her friend. Then Tony shows up and things get... complicated.
Cast of Characters: Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne), Iron Man




Captain America has posed:
There's something about new socks. Having known well the lack of them while under duress of war-time and having seen the suffering of those less fortunate than him in their physiology, Steve always buys quality in them. After changing out the blades of his razor and making sure his living quarters are barrack-straight, he meanders back downstairs in the mansion. It's quiet again. Nothing's pinged on his phone just yet and he checks the screen almost mindlessly as he walks down the hallway towards the kitchen. He's in a sweatshirt now overtop his t-shirt and hard-soled slippers. His pace is deliberate, easy to hear, as much clomping as can be had without combat boots.

To the coffee maker he goes to pour himself another cup. The caffeine never lingers long and it's not that he needs it. It's something to keep his basic motor skills occupied while his mind is a thousand miles away. One can tell by the distance in his eyes even as he pours. He's not looking at the mug, but at the counter beside it. It's all muscle memory and repetition keeping himself from being burnt by spilled brew.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Hey soldier." There's an elfin presence at Steve's elbow, and suddenly Janet's smiling up at him. She wraps her hands around his bicep and hugs his arm. "Did I sneak up on you? You must be totally checked out."

She produces her own coffee mug and starts piling cream and sugar into it, then adds coffee to taste. The resulting drink is more confection than beverage, and roughly the color of beach sand.

She's wearing pajamas as well. Plaid flannels, thin-soled thong sandals, and a plain pink camisole. "I thought I'd be the only one up at this hour." Her bright smile flickers and dims. "Is... everything okay? If it's about James' girl, I'm sure she's OK," Janet says, trying to reassure Steve.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain takes a quick half side-step away from the sudden hug at his arm, but he realizes soon enough that it's Janet and not someone truly intending to do him in. "Yeah...no joke," he agrees quietly, with the mental reminder to pay attention and stop living in his own head. He turns about and leans on the counter, holding his mug between both hands, and watches her prepare her own drink. He's not quite slipped away again when her voice brings him back to the present. The soldier nods, his chin then remaining tucked.

"She'll be stable in the hospital. With today's medicine, there's not a lot that can't be done. It'll galvanize the team too, hearing about it." He toes at a bread crumb on the floor. "I would go after this Elle, but...I can't. Not right now. SHIELD's..." A twist of his mouth. "Bucky's still in it, in the mind-wipe. I tried talking to him a few days ago and he attempted to throttle me. I read up on how to jog memory, like in people with amnesia or dementia. I brought the baseball he caught at the Dodgers game we went to when we were young. I even made the bow on it smell like jasmine." A wry, sad huff of a laugh and he rubs at his temple, eyes now closed. "I stepped on a vial of it back in a perfume factory during the war. The Howling Commandos used to joke that the enemy would smell me if they didn't see me coming by the uniform." He falls silent before adding, "It didn't work."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Self-centered as Janet is, her brow furrows empathetically at Steve's sudden downturn of mood. She hesitates, and moves to sit down at the counter so she's still facing him. The petite fashionista almost gains a little height advantage when perched on the stool, and curls both hands around her large coffee mug with her elbows balanced on the counter.

"Didn't you hear what you just said?" she inquires of him. "Not much they can't cure with modern medicine. I know things seem kinda bleak but--" she hesitates. "I mean, he's *alive*, y'know? He's in there. The Bucky bits, I mean, not the... Frosty Soldier stuff," she tells him. "It's not like they can just scoop out those memories. Hide them or whatever, I mean, I don't know. Strange is the neurosurgeon. But this can't be the *first time* that someone's run into that sort of conditioning. There has to be a way to break it."

Captain America has posed:
"There is a way to permanently break it. I know there is," and Steve agrees firmly in this, looking up at the fashionista. "It's keeping everyone safe. Every single time we've dealt with this, someone's died. It takes enough time that he becomes a flight risk. HYDRA trained him well, Janet, in whatever hell-hole they hid him in all those years." The Captain's blue eyes go flinty. "He's an experienced killer. I can thank my lucky stars he hasn't killed me yet. He's..." It apparently hurts to continue his thought, but he does anyways, his gaze dropping to his slippers. "He's a liability. But he's my friend. And he's in there, I saw it." A sharp huff. "I saw it in his eyes, how he hit the wall they put up in his head."

Inhaling deeply, Steve then lifts his chin and stares out across the kitchen, as if he could see through the cabinetry and beyond. "It's convincing everyone else that we can get him back. That he's not some rabid dog that can't be cured. I gotta talk to May." His jaw tightens. "Remind her that he's in there."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Earnest upset crosses Janet's face. Steve's flinty, angry expression is not one she prefers on him. And it's a little intimidating, particularly for the pixie-faced woman in her jammies at the counter across from him.

"How-- how did you and Bucky meet?" she inquires, stirring a spoon lazily through her coffee. "I mean, like, really meet. I know you guys were in the Army together but they just say 'And Rogers' good friend, Sergeant 'Bucky' Barnes," she remarks. "Did you guys meet up at, um, boot camp, or whatever it's called?" She's clearly trying to draw him out of his introspective, angry funk.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain's expression is momentarily blank as he glances back to Janet. It's a brilliant ploy on her part because it boomerangs the soldier's mind from the uncertain future and back to an established past where familiarity is as warm as a blanket. There's no missing the softening of relief through his face even as he suspects at her conversational choice and still manages a thin smile.

"Playground fight, nine years old. Some other kids had found a kitten and were torturing it. Poking it with sticks. I told 'em to stop, they didn't, so I took the kitten and made sure it got away. They didn't like that overmuch, so..." A faint chuckle and flick of brows. "They disagreed with my decision and proceeded to try and beat me to a pulp. Bucky saw and waded in, throwing fists. I wasn't much more than a beanpole there, all legs and arms, thin as a rail. Bucky was already taller and used to solving his own problems. He sent 'em all scampering and then gave me his hankie. There was a lot of blood on it from my nose. School sent me home because I got light-headed, Maithair wasn't impressed." This being 'mother' in Steve's childhood Irish. "But it turns out Bucky lived nearby and I guess...I guess he respected my gumption and I respected his big-hearted rescue. Kept me out of trouble from then on. For the most part," he amends with a little dimpling towards Janet. The sadness hasn't left his eyes entirely, but it's not as present anymore.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet smiles when Steve starts to wax nostalgic, and that smile cracks the granite of his features. She listens attentively, nodding at all the right moments and smiling encouragingly when he does. When he mentions Barnes giving the wounded Steve a handkerchief, a quiet 'aww!' escapes her lips. A wry smile crosses her lips and she droops her shoulders a little bonelessly. It's very cute, apparently.

"Gosh, that's such a sweet story," she murmurs, wide-eyed. Janet takes a sip of her coffee. "Wow so you guys have been together since... sheesh. I don't know if I even *know* anyone from primary school." Janet clucks her tongue.

"So grade school, high school... ten years, you two?" she hazards. "Right around there. And then--" she indexes her fingers at him. "Did you enlist into the Army first, or did he do it? Or were you drafted? I can't remember," she admits.

Captain America has posed:
"He beat me to the draft, but hell if I didn't try first. Seven times, all in different cities...all grade 4F. He was assigned to the 107th, same as my father in the previous war. I remember...god, what a punk." He shakes his head and sips at his coffee, his eyes now on Janet's own mug but not focused upon it. "He wanted to spend a night on the town with some girls and I left him to go try again. I was 'caught' by a scientist, Dr. Erskine, with my last attempt at getting drafted. He had an offer for me and I took it. It was my chance to go find Bucky and...it sounds trite, but help stop the Nazis from being the biggest bullies on the playground. We did our best." His broad shoulders lift and fall in a shrug.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Something humorous glitters in Janet's eyes, but she's too swept up in Steve's story to say anything. Another 'aww' escapes her lips along with a mournful, dreamy sigh. "And you went to *Europe* to find him. And you-- you had no idea if you'd get into the same unit? Or even go to Germany?"

She hugs her coffee and takes a deep sip. "That is just... so..." She flails a hand near her face, wet eyes looking skywards. Be strong, Janet! "And with things so *different* then. All those boys going overseas. You guys had no way of knowing how things would work out, but it *did*."

"Oh, god, I'm going to start blubbering or something. Damnit Steve," she complains, insincerely. She reaches for a tissue and presses it carefully to the corner of her eyes. "Gosh. And then you-- you both ended up getting frozen, and you met up *again* eighty years later. That's just so beautiful."

Captain America has posed:
"Yeah, it's..." His voice drops out as he watches her touch at her lashes with a tissue. Bemusement makes his brows meet, but upon further evaluation, he's...certain that she's not yanking his chain. He steps forwards out of his lean and moves next to her, giving her another little smile.

"It kind of sounds like a fairytale when you put it like that, doesn't it? I dunno about fate, but bonds of brotherhood? Even without blood? That can span time itself." Janet receives a hesitant pat-pat on the shoulder in passing, as if to mollify for the fact that he caused incidental tears. "I found him because I ended up on the war bond tour circuit and they thought that if I'd show up in Europe spangly tights and shield, it'd boost the troops' moral. The men only wanted to see the chorus gals. Not me." Now the dimples show in shadowed strength. "I got a lot of flak from the Commandos about my suit. It's not all knights in shining armor."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet bursts out laughing, a chiming and uninhibited sound. She flings her arms around Steve's shoulders at the pat. She's an exuberant personality and a 'pat' on the shoulder just doesn't do it.

"Oh, it's just-- like you said, timeless, that's so beautiful to me. And you in a chorus line!" she laughs, gaily. "Running around in tights and spangly boots. My god," she says, giggling. For some reasons she finds that hysterical.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm sure it would have raised *my* morale," she tells Steve, patting his shoulder with a briskly affectionate rub. "And you sold a ton of war bonds, from what I read, right?"

She beams up at him, sunnily. "I'm so glad you told me about this. OH!" She punches his shoulder with a butterfly blow. "That's why I got you those tickets! Did I get my dates right? I read that Oklahoma! came out right around the time you shipped out. I thought you might enjoy it anyway, but I didn't realize you were such a fan of musicals!"

Captain America has posed:
"Enough war bonds to feel like a dancing monkey," Steve confirms drolly. Then, in her usual razzle-dazzle style, Janet is talking about the tickets he found in the small box handed off to him last night at the impromptu SHIELD holiday party. The man laughs aloud now and sighs, sounding only mildly exasperated.

"You know me too well, Janet van Dyne." His wry tone suggests otherwise as he smirks at the petite fashionista. "I appreciate your faith that I can sit still through a musical. You're not wrong, it did come out just before I left the country for Europe, but..." He lets the thought hang in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, smelling of coffee this late at night. "I think you're still angling to get me into a tuxedo."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Steve, you're just gonna have to lean into it," Janet tells him, drily. She swings her bare feet under the stool she's perched on. Sitting at the kitchen island, she's in a pink camisole and flannel pants, beaming up at Steve at her shoulder. Both have coffee in hand. "I want to dress *everyone* up."

"Besides, after all that time in the Army, I'd think you'd enjoy some *real* clothes. Human stuff! Not all that... awful beige, and... olive green." She makes an eloquently disgusted face. "The Navy outfits, though, THOSE-- they're hot. The all-white ones, with the collar?" she says, miming a mandarin collar. "Or the blue ones the ... Marines? wear."

"Anyway, just take someone you think would enjoy it," she tells Steve, seriously. "Or someone you'd have fun with. Okay?"

Iron Man has posed:
"THAT----" Tony's voice begins, loud and assertive from the hallway, ".... is actually really accurate," he announces to someone or something, before appearing in the kitchen. He moves a stray hand along the counter, as if to help steer the ship. For good reason: there's significant impairment of a very predictable type.

Pulling away an earpiece and dumping it unceremoniously on the counter, Tony releases a deep and overdramatic breath.

And then he belatedly reacts to Steve's presence. And Janet's. "The /big/ party starts in...." he calculates. "Six hundred and fifty minutes. Give or take." Tony did not take in any of what they were saying. And there's no need to have more than one guess as to why. He's 'present,' since he is a very high functioning alcoholic, but he came from one of his other parties. He's dressed the part, though he's removed suit jacket on the way in, so it's more an expensive dress shirt, immaculate slacks, the 'usual'.

"You did not miss it by being shot," Tony concludes to Steve in particular. And looks with expectant assumption to Janet. "Weren't you just at this one today?" he asks, thoughtful, with a confusion that encourages him to go look at the liquor in the kitchen.

Captain America has posed:
Janet gets that lopsided smile from the Captain, the one communicating a stymied helplessnes without outright saying it. "I dunno who I'd take, Janet. Everyone else is up to their necks in work with the holidays, much less this problem with folks falling asleep." A squint at her. "Unless y -- "

The Captain's shoulders jumpt a centimeter at the sudden voice from outside the kitchen and he turns in place, giving the arriving genius-inventor a passing glower for startling him. He wonders at the man's state even before he takes note of all the tells. Yep, drinking indeed.

"Glad to hear that I didn't miss it," he replies to Tony before giving Janet a side-glance of incredulity. He falls silent to see if Janet was indeed at the earlier soiree, sipping at his coffee.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I know all women look alike to you, Tony, but-- no. I was *not* at the party," Janet tells Tony, a bit primly. High-functioning or not, he's clearly avoiding a staggering gait by dint of long practice more than anything else. "And you can just say 'eleven hours', like everyone else." She does flicker her eyes to the kitchen clock for a moment, just to see that he's correct.

"Wait, when did you get shot?" she asks Steve, with confusion written on her pixie-ish features. "Was this recently?" she adds a beat later, dismay tingeing her tone.

Iron Man has posed:
"It's less than eleven. Accuracy bonus points," Tony comments, in a way that suggests he's referencing some other joke that amused him earlier in the night, and the liquor has made him less aware of who might have been present, or not.

"Shot, yes. What is it now. Three bullets, he's gathered. Unless there's another you've hidden from me," Tony says skeptically, as if Steve might be withholding vital information. Tony has since found additional alcohol without really trying, and is in progress on making his own drink. It's not coffee.

"No, really. You weren't there?" Tony asks Janet, not letting that strand go yet. He's surprised. "Why did she go along with me calling her Janet," Tony asks, more to himself, but figures out the answer on his own - and dismisses the question with a shrug. "Well. So long as you come tomorrow," he adds pointedly (particularly pointed, there's even a finger-gun from the hand with the glass), but his smile suggests it isn't really something he's pushing hard.

Captain America has posed:
The fashionista's high-falutin' tone is enough to make Steve smile faintly down at his cup of coffee. Tony's retort to her makes the curve of lips deepen. Eleven hours to go until the party, however, the man does commit to memory. Just enough time to try and tie up more loose ends and --

Janet's voice then shifts into a pitch of concern. He glances up at her and then at Tony, his eyes narrowing at the information handed out. Given there's no use denying it (and his momentary silence after Tony's remark might as well confirm the veracity of the number of rounds), he replies simply, "I was caught off-guard. I won't happen again." Again-again-again.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet punches Steve in the shoulder. Petite as she is, she knows how to put some force into it. She scowls up at him with suprising belligerence. "You *GOT*. *SHOT*." she grates, seething with furious outrage. "You big dummy! You aren't supposed to get shot!"

"Let Tony get shot!" she says, waving an arm at him. "At worst he's out some money to fix one of those goofy suits of his! You're a national icon, Steve, we can't afford losing you to something... stupid... like... ... a BULLET." She fumes a little, and for some reason scowls angrily at Tony. As if it's his fault that the topic was raised at all-- or like he should have kept Steve from taking a bullet!

Iron Man has posed:
"I'd rather go with nobody shot, but of the people /here,/ I suppose I volunteer as tribute," Tony responds 'helpfully.' "What's a bit more shrapnel among friends." He gives up on trying to get the counter to stop moving around where he's leaning on it, and takes over a chair with a loose collapse that actually has some reasonable flair to it. Trust Tony to be a showman even in a slight fall. One who doesn't lose any of his drink, either, somehow.

"Should we be expecting more bullets from the guy? I mean, when it 'doesn't happen again'?" Tony asks, still flippant, but there's some awareness behind the question, too.

Captain America has posed:
"Ow." Steve reaches across his body to rub at the impact site as he gives the petite woman a half-hearted glare. Yeah...yeah, that was coming. He then drinks the last of the contents of his mug of coffee and walks over to the sink to deposit it within.

"Look...Janet knows what's going on," he begins, glancing up at Tony's sprawled self as the mug gets rinsed out. "And I don't disagree. No one else should be shot." He turns to lean on the sink now, arms folded tightly enough that biceps show beneath the thin navy-blue sweatshirt. "My mistake. All three times. But it's not the first time someone's taken a crack at me. I'm right here, alive and kicking, and not going anywhere anytime soon. I'll get it figured out."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"This isn't exactly a game with a lot of 'second place' winners," Janet points out for Steve's benefit. The casual 'I'll figure it out' seems to offend her, for some reason.

Still, the mix of emotions on Steve's face seems to blunt her momentary wrath. Tension slips out of her shoulders and she slumps, arms sagging. "Just... I don't need to go to any more funerals," she says, wearily.

The petite socialite slips to her feet and wriggles toes into her sandals. "I think I'm gonna turn in, boys. You two play nice, and try to get to sleep at a good hour. Okay?" she remonstrates them, with a flickering gaze and wiggling index finger.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony coughs as he nearly empties his glass, then kicks back the rest of it, and sets it down with a secure sound of glass to wood table. He's very clearly drunk, and in his way is enjoying the conversation more than he might otherwise, due to that factor. As if he needed to be loosened up.

That is, until Janet mentions funerals. And Tony balks a little at the sudden introduction of serious Feels to the conversation. "You heard her. Not a /game,/ Cap," Tony points out to Steve Rogers with heavy stare that lasts a little longer than maybe intended.

"By the way, Janet, I dig the jammies," Tony observes of Janet's attire. "Play nice? Hmmmm; regretfully, niceness might be beyond me right now, other than that rare compliment." Tony reflects quietly, turning his glass in his fingers.

Captain America has posed:
Steve avoids meeting anyone's eyes after Janet's sobering comment. It's a very quiet little fear of his, deep in his heart and in the darkest hours of the night, that he won't win. Still, the soldier hides it all away under a mask of mild discontent.

"We'll play nice enough," he says quietly to the fashionista when he lifts his chin again, confident he's got that aforementioned mask in place. "Sleep tight. I'll be here in the morning." This reminder has a gentleness rather than a sprinkling of Rogers defensive sass. Once he's certain that Janet's not actively watching him, he pins Tony with a knife-like, set-jaw glare.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony doesn't appear to be influenced by the pin-like glare at first. He was watching Janet depart. His gaze finally drifts back to Steve, with zero recognition on what he's being glared at about.

Not that it would matter. He flashes an automatic charismastic Stark smile, the same one he gives to a reporter yelling at him about something he's probably responsible for. It happens a lot.

Even so, he'll follow the reason for the pivot, at least to some degree. "/Do/ you got this, or do you need anything from me?" Tony asks, tone conversational. He's not prying, not really, but the tone is also a similar one to what Tony used in the hospital room just days before. Casual, but also not entirely so.

Captain America has posed:
Buoyed along by societal cues, the Captain's eyes briefly follow the inventor's fixed attention. For a short period of time, he too watches the Wasp depart -- but only a short period of time. He brutally reminds himself of the real reason he was glaring at Tony and resumes it, even in the face of that charming grin.

"Yes, Tony, I've got this. I don't need anything from you." His tone is patient enough, but there underlies a thread of tension and steel. "Especially not right now. If I needed your help, I'd need it clear-headed. I don't want you taking a bullet too."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony attempts to drink from his empty glass, and looks personally affronted that it is empty. He forgot he wasn't at his party, where there are those who are paid to keep that glass from this dreadful state. He doesn't move to fill it though, he raps it up and down twice on the table while Steve references his lack of awareness.

Tony shrugs a little, and scoffs, "My tipsy is still well beyond genius level." Arrogant? Absolutely. True? Absolutely. Except that he's well beyond tipsy, and probably isn't able to determine his own sobriety!

"Do you have a plan, or are you just winging it?" Tony asks. If he's not immune to the glares, he hasn't let on about it. "That's not a slight; I /constantly/ wing it."

Captain America has posed:
Exasperation shows on Steve's face again after his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline. "You think I don't have a plan. Tony. I'm the Man with the Plan." A quick grit of teeth and the Captain then turns around to fetch his mug from the sink again. It's time for more coffee because who needs sleep?

"I'm not winging it either," he adds, back to Tony. The coffee maker sounds off a series of beeps as it's directed to produce the precise cup that Steve wants. Ah, the boons of living in a tech-rich environment. "You can't wing it with Bucky," he mutters more quietly yet. "Clever punk." It has the same resigned affection that one might have for the dog who chewed up the umpteenth slipper.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
No one can possibly hear the tiny, faint little 'aww!' that comes from the fern plant in the corner of the kitchen. Where Janet van Dyne absolutely isn't hiding, scaled down to be knee high to a little green army figurine.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony does filter; his filter just doesn't catch much. So, right now, with the booze? No filter. Out comes his direct opinion. "It's just the other plan, from the pieces I've been privy to, involves bullets, and making Janets upset. ---- Do you need a helmet?" Tony asks, with the serenity of the comfortable drunk.

"Suit yourself if you need to do it alone, I guess," Tony says suddenly, without much emotion. "But the /point/ of the whole Avengers thing is to use the team. At least those of us in it that are your friends, at any rate."

Captain America has posed:
The soldier's spine goes ramrod straight. One can see his fingers curl back into fists against the countertop. The faintest hiss of nails on surface can be heard briefly. His ribs expand and fall.

"You're not in a sober state of mind, Tony. I'm not about to involve you when you're three sheets to the wind." Another quicker sigh with his back still facing the other man. The mug of coffee is now full, but Steve doesn't reach out to retrieve it from beneath the machine's spout. "You wanna help, you go sober up and think about how sometimes, it's not helpful to butt in." He frowns over his shoulder at Tony, but only briefly. "There won't be any more bullets, I can promise you that. You know what?" The man turns on the spot to face Tony head-on. "I will. No more bullets, Stark. I won't get shot again."

Iron Man has posed:
There aren't very many people that can weather a true direct admonishment from Captain America. It doesn't fall on deaf ears on Tony Stark, either. He looks a little surprised by it, at least at first, as if he might not have realized he said everything aloud. Not that that will stop Tony from talking. Filling the air with words is his best defense mechanism, and it still works when drunk.

"If you think I 'butt in' on just anybody---" Tony begins, with a focused quality that is fairly rare from the billionaire, but he corrects himself quickly: "I'm far too self-absorbed for any of that," he jokes. Tony is moving, of course, to diffuse. And to distract from what he almost started to say. "I am pretty drunk," Tony admits. He starts to work on standing up. "Ugh, promises. You'll probably be shot. Or strangled or whatever. And I'll probably have another drink." Tony gestures absently, as if waving away those things. "Just survive it, I guess, then."

Captain America has posed:
"If I get hit, I just walk it off," agrees the Captain quietly. "That includes getting shot and strangled. Don't lose sleep over it -- and don't drink about it either," he finally amends, his brows knitting. "Just don't. I'm not out there to get hurt, Tony. I'm out there to help people. If it means taking a hit, then it does."

The Captain falls silent for a few seconds. "I'm not an idiot," he says more quietly. "I know he's dangerous. Let me deal with him." A braid of earnesty has threaded into that steely core of his voice. He didn't miss the earlier half-redacted sentence.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony's having trouble with standing at first, but finds his sea-legs. He's usually surprisingly functional for the amount of alcohol in his body. Until he's not. He did entirely forget about his glass, but finds the earpiece on the counter. And then proceeds to rummage for snacks. Just the usual multitasking, if a bit more disjointed than sober version.

"I," Tony begins with firmness, "Am drinking to celebrate. So, no worries all around." A shining charismatic smile is added. "So long as you don't get splattered. I still have yet to attach a spatula attachment to my suits for scraping up you people. ...Good talk, Capsicle. Good talk," Tony says, turning with snack in hand to sort of sideways-fist-bump at Steve's shoulder. It's awkward but has decent aim. Tony usually has okay hand-eye coordination when inebriated, as he's shown in suit-flight while drunk (sometimes he avoids crashing into all the things).

Captain America has posed:
The Captain's face smoothes into a set of mild politeness. He's still dubious given the lingering divot between his brows. He glances down at his shoulder, now accosted for the second time tonight, and back at Tony again.

"Yeah, good talk, Tony. You should get to bed too. Or at least down to your lab. You can work off that buzz working on your spatula attachments. I'll feel safer jumping out of planes without parachutes knowing your suit has this gadget," he quips with still a touch of tartness. He's happy to shift the topic of conversation away from his jailbird partial-cyborg of a friend and finally collects his second cup of coffee. "Janet had the right idea. The morning comes early. G'night, Tony." His tone forces politeness as he leaves the kitchen, headed for his bedroom and the solace of his sketching pads.

Iron Man has posed:
"Nah, think I'll go back to my tower, give Pepper the updates for the new year's party in person," Tony says, relaxed, and easily derailed. There are some things that Tony's drunken quality can help with: and distraction is one of them.r
"We /are/ glad you're back here, though. Just in time to ring in the new year. I don't need to be the only one leading this mess," Tony says, tone bright, distracted by his snack. The 'sentiment' was real enough, though it's followed simply when Tony offers a two-finger wave in return as Steve heads out.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
There's little more than a buzzing and then, abruptly, there's a significant weight attached to Tony's earlobe. This proves to be thumb and forefinger, and they belong to a Janet van Dyne who definitely *was not* there a few seconds ago.

"ANTHONY EDWARD STARK!" Janet's voice barely rises over a whisper, but the shrill, grating tone could ignite a sheet of paper.

"Do-- do you even KNOW what he's GOING THROUGH?" the petite socialite demands. It's like a kitten trying to back up a hunting dog, sure, but-- Janet *can* reach Tony's face. "He got SHOT because he DIDN'T want to hurt BUCKY," she tells Tony. She jabs at his breastbone with a bony index finger that'd make a Catholic nun wince.

"He's not stupid or clumsy! He's trying to SAVE his life, and you-- you're--!" Janet splutters, red-faced with irate indignation as words fail her.

"You're making JOKES about pancakes."

"PANCAKES!"

Iron Man has posed:
"Hi Janet," Tony says firstly, as she grabs at his ear, wincing. At least she chose the ear without the earpiece in it. That might have confused him a little in his present state.

"Maybe he'd be successful if he used all his resources instead of doing a personal wild-west lone gunman stand, then. But it's his call, clearly. He doesn't think he needs us. And I don't /make/ someone let me help them." Tony's not pleased about being pushed away, as he sees it, but he also isn't going to show that to Janet. Not on purpose.

"Pancakes sound /really/ good right about now," Tony adds, unable to not dig his grave deeper when given the opportunity.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet splutters. "Y-y-YOU. YOU." She grates, and looks like she might throttle Tony.

"All you do-- LITERALLY! All you DO! Is MAKE people ask you for help!" Janet says, her hands curling into tiny, shaking fists. "Don't talk to me about pancakes! Steve got shot and all he wants to do is help Bucky!" Her eyes look damp. "And you're making jokes about it and complaining about him t-t-trying to do the r-right thing--"

And abruptly Janet's bawling, and buries her head under Tony's chin and leans heavily against him. A hand thumps against his collarbone, fist closed, but it has all the impact of a tennis ball being thrown.

Iron Man has posed:
"Did he ask for help and I missed it? I've really had a lot to drink tonight," Tony asks, in his usual manner of jokes to evade the serious content she's now slinging at him. And crying. Aghhhhh. Tony uncomfortably lifts a hand, unsure how to even start to comfort her, regardless of size. She gets a pat-pat on her back. Tony's not much of a hugger, and he isn't in flirt-mode with her either.

"Ow, watch the bones, I'm not a super-soldier," Tony reminds her, even if it didn't hurt.

He finally relents, though. Like many things, if someone can just weather the bullshit, some real piece of Tony will surface. "Maybe you can get through to him about it. I don't see why it's assumed I wouldn't /also/ want to do the right thing."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet pushes gently off Tony, reaching for more tissues to dab carefully at the corners of her eyes. "Oh Tony," she sighs, wearily, and pats his cheek with a fond, wry affection. "You just don't know how to listen. Steve *wants* help. He just doesn't know how to ask for it," she concludes. "I-- I know you and Steve aren't exactly best pals. But he's in a bad place. As close as he and Bucky are--" She breaks off, fanning her face as if to wave away her emotions.

"You were never good at reading between the lines, Tony. I know you want to do the right thing. Try-- *try* to do the thing that *Steve* needs you to do." She gives his arm a gentle, pointed squeeze, and then without any more explanation, she shuffles out of the kitchen.

She comes back in five seconds later and roots around in the refridgerator. A fifteen dollar pint of chocolate gelato is tucked under one arm. "I'm taking this," she announces, and retrieves a spoon, too. As if daring Tony to object, she glares at him again and shuffles back out of the kitchen.

Iron Man has posed:
She's confused Tony. He isn't short on words, though, even if he hasn't followed her meaning fully. For a genius, he does miss a great deal of finesse with emotions. Comes from a great deal of not looking too deeply most of the time.

"Steve should figure out what he needs, and ask for it," Tony says, in a more mild manner than previous. Logical to Tony. That's what he would do. He rubs his forehead and across an eye, making one of his 'Tony' squint-faces, lips tugged to the side as he visibly chews on her words.

"Try it on pancakes," Tony says as she returns for the tub, before tapping his earpiece, and ordering his ride to the tower. Easier to drink when he's not driving.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"URGH." From the direction Janet departed, a grape from the 'welcome guest' fruitbasket is hurled with pinpoint accuracy at Tony's forehead.

"MEN." Janet shuffles off, slamming doors behind her as if decrying the collective that is the opposite sex.

Iron Man has posed:
Ooh, a grape. It bounces off his forehead, but Tony catches it before it falls. Looks at it, and eats it.

With other snacks in hand, and chewing the grape, he heads back outside.

Someone (or something of a robotic persuasion) will clean up that forgotten empty glass. He has other things to do.