7672/Drinks, and Time

Drinks, and Time
Date of Scene:	29 May 2019
Location:	10th Floor - Stark Tower
Synopsis:	Steve seeks Tony out for advice about feelings, for some weird reason.
Cast of Characters:	Iron Man, Captain America

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Iron Man has posed:
After having received a text from Steve to come by, Tony arches a brow at it, and idly told JARVIS that it would be fine -- let him know when the Captain arrived. Tony's at work, though not deeply, into a project, in the bunker. "Ping me when he comes ... send him to one of the guest suites to hang out, if I ignore you," Tony teases the AI.

"Of course, sir," answers JARVIS politely.

And JARVIS follows the directions when Steve Rogers arrives, though a new assistant about loses her cool when Rogers shows up in front of her. She begs, humbly, for a quick selfie, before leading him to the elevator.

"Welcome back, Captain Rogers," JARVIS greets once Steve has made the elevator. "Mr. Stark is working, but I will inform him of your arrival. He has asked that you make yourself at home in the guest suite to your left as you exit, 9A."

Indeed, the elevator stops on the specific floor, leading into many of the areas where dignitaries and guests are kept, on the west wing's side.

Captain America has posed:
The selfie is granted and while it might not have been the best Steve can offer to date, it'll surely do for now. His smile in it is tight and clearly a bit uncomfortable, his mind miles and miles away from the current place and time even as he's lead to the guest suite.

"Thanks, JARVIS." The Captain still has enough gumption and long-worked manners to offer gratitude to the AI. He wanders out into the spread of the room itself, airy and open and devoid of others than himself. His steps take him to the array of glass windows and he looks out onto the city below in its carpeting of golden windows and traffic below on the streets. By the tuck of his chin, he's wondering if this was a stupid idea, coming to talk to the genius-inventor...but who else might have experience something like this before? There's no rock to kick, but Steve still scuffs his boot on the fine carpeting in an uncomfortable fidget.

Iron Man has posed:
"You are most welcome," JARVIS replies.

Steve isn't actually waiting long at all, Tony had been at a good stopping point: the parts he wanted made are in fabrication now, so it's just a lot of waiting. There's little time between him leaving the bunker, quickly changing clothes, and heading to the nineth floor. The building is already starting to buzz with party preparations, but nothing Tony is paying attention to yet: just means that the elevators are slightly more busy. It is a thing that also doesn't impact Tony, since he overrules all other elevator calls. The bossman trumps all.

So it is soon enough that Tony's entered the suite he sent Rogers to, calling out his greeting, "Hey, Cap," loudly into the place, spotting Steve by the windows.

He doesn't wait, though, he's already crossing towards the large bathroom there, intending to wash his hands. There's no explanation, he just does it, comfortable here in a suite as much as he is as if it were his own penthouse. Tony's got a mixture of dark soot and oil remains on his hands which he is scrubbing off -- though he's dressed in clean, comfortable clothes: just a rock t-shirt (Guns n' roses), black jeans, and expensive blue-white sneakers with checkerboard soles. The t-shirt is old enough to have seen the wear and tear of time, which makes his arc reactor visible through it.

Captain America has posed:
The mechanics of the elevator's efficient travels coming to a halt are enough to bring Steve up from his introspective consideration of his boot-laces. Footsteps too announce Tony before his voice travels and the Captain turns in place towards him.

"Hey, Tony." His voice is loud enough to be heard across the room, but lacks its normal depth of color. He rocks back and forth in place as he glances to one side and then back towards the cityspace, as if it might be safer than directly interacting with the man still.

A quick roll of his neck is Steve silently gathering up gumption. "Working hard or hardly working?" God, he's trying to sound normal -- please let it sound normal as he continues talking across the room to Tony.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony actually turns and steps backwards, as he finishes washing his hands, to carry the towel with him into the hallway. "Something happen to your ability to write inspirational Hallmark cards?" Tony quips in amusement, easy and relaxed at first. "I won't be investing, if that's where things are headed." Then he squints a little bit, dark brows lowering. Hmmmmm. He turns away from the bathroom, loosely side-tossing the towel in the general vicinity of the sink, and starts to head over to where Steve actually is.

Tony stops there, to Steve's left, and looks out and down over the city, then to the other Avenger. One brow is up, but he shows patience: waiting to see where Steve wants to direct this.

Captain America has posed:
The quip is enough to make the stoic soldier snort with far less wry amusement than normal; it's a ghost of his normal reaction at best. He can't bring himself to look dead-on at Tony even as the man walks over. As such, Steve turns back to face the cityspace again. In his peripheral, he acknowledges the attention on him with nothing more than a deep inhale and slow sigh. Now the classical profile of his face is all that can be read.

"Got a question for you, Tony." He watches the inventor's ghostly reflection in the glass. "Ever had your past come back and bite you in the ass?"

Iron Man has posed:
"Usually it comes and takes an enormous crap on my front step where everyone can see it," Tony chuckles. "I'm just good at cleaning it up. Or, well, good at hiring people to clean it up." Tony watches Steve thoughtfully, though the pause isn't very long, overall.

He sobers a little more. "But, no. I had something from the past arrive this week. Probably the same thing that visited you." Tony crosses his arms. He's quick: he picked up right away where things were headed. Which is probably one of the reasons Steve wasn't sure about coming.

"Blue dress. Lots of questions about history; about my father, some other things." Tony looks at the city now.

Captain America has posed:
It's Steve with the longer silence. He's got his hands in the pocket of his jacket and it's probably the only reason his arms aren't folded sentinel across his chest as well. He continues watching Tony's translucent reflection for as long as he can stomach it before he looks down and away. It's a big-enough tell that Tony's nailed the issue before the Captain can even find words once more.

"She would've asked about Howard," he replies in a tone infinitely tired. "She's got every right to ask about a lot of things. Same boat I was in years back...or near enough the same." He swallows and finally lifts his eyes to Tony's reflection again. "How'd it go?"

Iron Man has posed:
"This," Tony says, with a pregnant pause, "Is a conversation that's going to include drinks. For me, even if not you," Tony says, evasively. He walks across the guest suite to the small bar - all of the suites have them, naturally -- and begins to sift around through the glasses and bottles for what he's after.

And he does reply. "Could have been better, really. Haven't had someone stare at me expecting to see my father in quite a few years." He lifts his eyes and smiles slyly. "Well, no. You did it," he admits, eyes dropping back to the drinks.

Captain America has posed:
"Couldn't help it," the Captain admits in turn, watching Tony with a greyness to his eyes. "It's hard when you leave people you know behind." Standing over by the window, he turns in place and very seriously considers the doors. Tony wouldn't stop him, but...Tony also wouldn't stop him. The idea is pushed aside for now. Conversational intensity has not reached the level of thumb-screws just yet.

"If you have any of the Asgardian mead, I'll take some. It's the only thing I've found that works." It's a hell of an admission from the stoic man.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony shrugs somewhat when Steve speaks so darkly, and if he takes in Steve looking for an escape, he doesn't react. He didn't catch it: he was squatting some behind the bar, still making noise. He stands to laugh softly, "I don't keep that in my guest suites, but I do have some I can send for."

Tony was kidding at first, but he picks up the real depth of that from Steve's face. "JARVIS," Tony says simply to the air, loudly.

"I will have it sent promptly," JARVIS replies.

"I have to be functional tomorrow, so this will be for me, then," Tony gripes, but mixes his own cocktail. He then stands there with it, with a somewhat uncomfortable expression: but not withdrawing. "I don't know what to tell you, but I'll listen," Tony offers, finally.

Captain America has posed:
"Thanks." To what? Both offer and drink, in the end. Steve nods and as he does so, each bob of his head means a more and more deliberate tuck of his chin. His face scrunches briefly in a flick of distress before he composes it again, looking upon Tony with his especial brand of patient weariness on full display.

"She came to the office, Tony. Walked into my office looking like..." Words fail him and he pulls a clammy hand down over his mouth as he blinks off to one side again. "'nd I was an idiot. Saw her and then dug myself a hole deep enough that I can lie in comfortably. Got room for a pillow." It'd be a quip if it wasn't so hollow.

Iron Man has posed:
"How idiotic are we talking? I gather you felt it was worse than a romantic comedy's low point where the hero humiliates himself, but... how'd she react?" Tony asks, starting with his own drink because it's in his hand. Drinks that are created are meant to be started with, really. It isn't his fault Steve's is in transit.

Captain America has posed:
"Wouldn't be drinking if the reaction were in any way good, would I." The rhetorical question is accompanied by the taking up of a short pacing part-ways down the line of windows. He's silhouetted against them, his gaze on the floor.

He stops and faces Tony again with the same gravitas one might the firing squad. Now it sounds like he's forcing himself to confess. "She asked me to your party. Thought it was a wise idea to level with her about things, given she showed up with a ring." Ouch; pain flickers through Steve's eyes. "So I told her I was planning on proposing to her after the war ended." Ouch again. "Never gonna be able to owe her that dance after all."

Iron Man has posed:
"Well. Shit," Tony says, in an understatement, but to some degree, Tony's simple answer has a lot more weight than if he'd said some longwinded snarky commentary. Just shit.

There's a knock at the door, which will grant a reprieve. "Have them bring it in," Tony instructs JARVIS. A little bit later, an assistant comes through, with the booze, sets it near the bar with a quick bow to both men, and exits, when it is clear that that is all that is wanted.

Tony gestures to the ale. It is an open invitation to have what he wants, as Tony pulls out the glassware. "Right, then. Drinking."

Captain America has posed:
"Shit," Steve quietly agrees in something close to a whisper. He remains where he's standing for now and until the assistant has left. The familiar bottle on the counter is enough to make him pull his lips to one side in a grimace -- man, the last hangover was horrifying -- well, his first hangover -- but the hair of the Asgardian dog is the only thing that slows down the tumult in his brain.

Walking over, he takes up one of the pint glasses and pours himself a full glass from the bottle of mead. Then, with shocking ease, he throws back the entire pint in one sitting. A small cough and then he's frowning grimly down at the glass as he pours himself another full pint.

Iron Man has posed:
"Proper language for the situation, yep." And then there's some really impressive drinking, Thor-style. Well, that was a sight. Tony won't be outdone. He finishes his own 'sad' little drink, and waves a his hand with a circlar motion pointing at the surface of the bar. It is a clear 'bring that over here' motion, indicating that he'll have it too.

Will there be regrets later? Probably. But for now he'll do what he can for his friend: which probably just means a lot of drinking. And maybe listening.

Captain America has posed:
"Gonna hit you between the eyes," Steve warns quietly, but he still passes over the bottle of mead to the genius-inventor. He'll be sorry to Pepper and feel badly for Tony later. Right now, he's waiting for the first sensation of tingling to begin in his fingers and toes. An empty stomach is always an aid in this.

"She doesn't know 'm with Janet. She knows there's a woman...not that it's Janet. Think she thought she'd find...find what we used to have." His voice grows quieter yet. "What we might've had if...if things had gone differently."

Iron Man has posed:
"You're saying that like I'm new to this," Tony teases back, with a quick, sharp laugh. He doesn't have as much as Steve -- at least, not yet. Tony generally has a good way of catching up, just out of consistent drinking.

"She struck me as pretty damn resilient," Tony says, honestly. "I think you did the right thing."

Captain America has posed:
A third of the second glass of mead is gone by now. Steve licks his lips and gives Tony a weary look. "You didn't see her cry, Tony. Peggy doesn't cry." He then laughs, sounding chagrined and pained. "...who'm I kidding, she does, I made her cry. Made the strongest woman I know cry."

He turns the pint glass on the countertop in its ring of condensation collected as he stands there, looking into the mead as if it might give him an answer. "Dunno if it was the right thing. Could've said nothing." He shrugs. "Could've...could've said yes to that dance." Now the tingling's begun in earnest and Tony might actually see it hit Steve. His stance becomes a little more slack, his face a little less set. "Y'know, to her, that dance? The promise to her? Those were my dying words, Tony, for all she cared. Me?" He sweeps a hand off to one side and thank god there's nothing there to go flying. "Stomped it into the mud. Broke her heart."

Iron Man has posed:
"You can't just beat yourself up, though. Being fair. You feel how you feel, you didn't string her along, and you've got Janet," Tony reminds, finding a stool to steer around over to sit down on it. Standing is hard when you have a lot of drinking to do.

"I've broken hearts. A lot. A /lot/ of hearts," Tony emphasizes, but it isn't truly bragging. He's realistic. He's been a playboy. "But I'm with Pepper, and I'd break those hearts to keep Pepper."

Tony refills Steve's glass, without spillage. Talent.

"If you feel like you did this wrong, though, and you want to take it back, that's different?" Tony asks. "

Captain America has posed:
"It's not...it's not that I want to take it back. I don't, Tony. Stringing someone along like that is...it's reprehensible." He scowls down at his refilled pint glass as if it's offended him. Still, there goes another third of its volume. "It's...it's what could've been. I put that dream aside when I woke up because I thought it died. I turn around 'nd there it is again, but I can't touch it. It's not fair...but I guess...life's not fair."

With that, the rest of the mead is gone in one fell swoop again. Someone's at least been practicing throwing back the ale with Thor, though more likely standard Midgardian brew than this veritable AMF. He sets the glass down and blows a sigh. "Better get back to the mansion. I walked here. I'll walk back." As he passes by Tony, he favors the man with a firm pat to the shoulder. "Thanks, Tony. Good talk." Both drunk and monotone, the Captain leaves on that note in full retreat and consequential bruised pride to follow. The walk back will do him good...he supposes.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony leans back some against the bar, and looks at his emptied cup. He sets it down very heavily, though. His thoughts are muddied by his own personal things to think over - but also a sense that he didn't really help Steve out at all. Maybe his companionship did, though. Yes, it probably did.

Tony just doesn't worry about it; he smiles into the clap to his shoulder, returning it with a low swat to the ribs, with no force. Just a friendly smack to answer the shoulder pat. "Tell you what; I'm going to go upstairs. Enjoy this, look at the view," Tony taps the rest of the ale, "and sack out here if you want. Or walk back. Whichever." He slides from his chair, suprisingly functional despite the blast of drinks, and heads for the door. "Focus on what you DO have. Not what you don't," Tony suggests. "You /do/ have time, now." He considers his own words for a moment, and then leaves.