9126/Asgard's Requiem: Neutering Loki

Asgard's Requiem: Neutering Loki
Date of Scene:	09 September 2019
Location:	Stark Tower, Greenwich Village
Synopsis:	Tony and Steve drink Asgardian ale, and discuss problems with Loki.
Cast of Characters:	Iron Man, Captain America
Tinyplot:	Asgard's Requiem

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Iron Man has posed:
The Tower is quiet, being as it is a Sunday night. Many workers have the night off, so the massive structure is a silent, lightly glittering technological marvel in the center of Greenwich Village. Many floors are deluminated, though the base floor, with it's sleek and spacious modern design, is pleasantly lit. There are always security around, including a night when the Tower is mostly slumbering, though there are no welcoming staff at reception. A member of Security will greet Steve as he arrives, though, with a welcoming nod.

"Captain Rogers," greets the man, scanning his materials. "Take a seat here, if you would, please?" he asks, gesturing to the clean white couches in a small waiting zone to the side of the elevators.

Captain America has posed:
"Sure, thank you," replies the Captain, ever cordial. He does take up a seat on the pristine furniture, wondering in the back of his mind of any of the grit from the ride here on his motorcycle will end up on the material. Oops...if so. He pulls his phone from his pocket and frowns down at it, noting the time. In theory, Steve's not too early...and not late in the least.

Still, the man indulges in looking around the place. It's interesting to see the architecture still illuminated in places, as if to mimic the brain which never completely shuts down. Normally crawling like an ant nest with ingenuity, it's as if the building has let out a breath in calm.

Iron Man has posed:
And like an idea in the brain of Stark, an elevator opens, and Tony's arriving, with his usual relaxed half-strut. The men in security automatically sharpen up a little when the boss arrives and walks by. "Greg, Max," Tony greets them with a toss of a wave.

"Mr. Stark." "Mr. Stark," answer the security politely, getting a quirk of Tony's lips in smile back, before he's upon Steve. "Hey Cap. Making it impossible for me to be early, as usual," Tony observes with a smile, and companionable offer of low handshake.

Tony is dressed very casually, black jeans, black sneakers with an electric blue stripe, an AC/DC t-shirt over a tank-top - thick enough to hide the arc reactor without being too hot. "Mi casa es su casa; what's up?"

Captain America has posed:
Steve returns the handshake with his usual firm precision. A faint smile lingers around his lips, as if he's fully aware of the necessity for professionalism in front of Stark's staff -- that, and his own public reputation and all that. The Captain himself is in a plain grey t-shirt beneath his black leather motorcycle jacket and blue jeans, combat boots laced up about his feet as always (and the bane of Janet's existence).

"Thought I'd talk with you for a spate, if you've got the time? You got my text?" It was a short little blip of a message anyways:

<<Hey Tony, it's Steve. Take you up on that drink? 11:30pm tonight.>>

Iron Man has posed:
"JARVIS might have mentioned it," Tony jokes back, adding a comfortable clap to Steve's upper shoulderblade. Tony's professionalism varies a little but on situation: but with people around, he lends to being more grandly showy. It's a natural attention-grabber thing he's unaware that he does. All the security are pretending not to watch them, of course.

"Yeah, I'm all set. You want to go on an adventure, or hang around here?" Tony asks. "I mean, we can get a chopper in the air; drinks on a yacht?" Tony turns away from Steve to yell, "Greg, you fly helicopters, don't you?" across at him.

"Yes, sir," Greg answers immediately.

Tony hooks back his gaze, to Steve with brows up, questioning, as if asking if Steve wanted ice in his drink.

Captain America has posed:
With eyebrows lifted, Steve looks over his shoulder to follow the line of the shout to consider Greg, the security guard being shouted at. A small smile and the Captain looks back to Tony once more.

"Figured we would hang around here. I've got some late-night paperwork to look over for SHIELD, so I can't stray too far tonight. I'll fill you in on that if you want." Sure, if Tony wants -- by the way Steve's smile deepens at the corners in vaguely sardonic knowing, he's quite certain the genius-inventor's already well-aware of Pmy's reports across both platforms for the Triskelion's crew and the live-in team at the Avengers mansion.

Iron Man has posed:
"Gee whiz, Steve, and I didn't get YOU anything," Tony laments, shaking his head and striding towards the elevators with a shrug. "C'mon up, then."

Tony leads into the elevators, checking the time briefly on his watch.

"Penthouse."

The elevator rises serenely towards the upper floors, in a way that barely even feels like the box is moving. It isn't glass, that'd be dizzying at this speed.

"Drinks are better here, at any rate. We've got some Asgardian ale I'll wrangle up for you, if you're feeling like you'd like to overshare," Tony offers as the elevator opens into the enormous Penthouse floor, trotting forwards and down the handful of stairs into the main open floorplan of the central room, then taking a left towards his kitchen.

Captain America has posed:
"Not gonna hold it against you, Tony," the Captain reassures him with a faint laugh as he enters the elevator behind the genius-inventor. It's the usual smooth hum of ascent to the penthouse level of the Tower and the gleam of rich decor greets him when the doors slide open.

He steps out into the open space of the living room and down the stairs at a far more pensive pace, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Dunno if it needs oversharing, but...why not." Steve appears in the kitchen and lingers, his eyes upon Tony. "Stuff doesn't taste half-bad anyways. Can toast to another factory gone down for enough time to do something about it." His smile is pale, reaching his eyes in a faint twinkle.

Iron Man has posed:
"Continue to have highly successful missions without me, and I'll start to think I'm not needed anymore," Tony says, searching idly through some takeout bags that somebody (Pepper) put out before she had to go do whatever thing Pepper needed to do. Tony already ate, so this is just curious forging behavior.

"Alrighty. JARVIS, Steve says 'why not', which we take to mean 'yes, let's make a bad life choice' around here, send up the ale."

"Right away, sir," JARVIS entones from nowhere. It's like living on a Star Trek ship, sometimes. Tony doesn't notice: it's his normal.

"If you want any of this, help yourself. Plates up left there," Tony gestures to a cabinet, while fishing out what liquor he'll be having. He doesn't need to be unconscious tomorrow, so he'll have more limited amounts of the asgard ale.

"Did you want to talk factory disposal?" Tony asks, while putting ice in.

Captain America has posed:
Steve too eyes those take-out bags. The Tower's lord might be peering in out of idle curiosity, but the super-soldier will never say no to food on offer. All of it goes to the furnace of his amped-up metabolism. "Thanks, Tony, I think I'll have some," he confirms before walking over to retrieve a plate from the cupboard in question.

It turns out to be Thai food and a little bit of everything ends up on Steve's plate. As he dishes up for himself, he has his attention upon the food. The clinkity-clink of ice in glassware makes him look over towards Tony and sigh. His jaw tightens and then relaxes.

"You read the report, I'm sure." His head shakes down at his sticky rice. "No, not about the mission. Need to make sure the air's clear for dealing with the Tesseract and Loki." A sharp clearing of his throat. "Looking forwards to that ale, that's for sure," he mutters before taking his plate and utensils towards one of the couches.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony realizes he's in front of the microwave, and scoots down the counter a bit further to give Steve access. The takeout's not hot.

"Whoa now. Tesseract and Loki are in the same sentenece again, now? Where'd he get it?" Tony asks, direct, tone pointed. "I feel like whenever we get a relic away from one of these villains and give it to the authorities, they gift wrap it back to them, sometimes. Maybe it's job security for them."

Tony's joke is interrupted by a drone bringing in the ale, setting it near one end of the counter.

Captain America has posed:
"Dunno that he has it, Tony, but I'll put my money where my mouth is that he's either got it or is thinking about how to get it." Grumpily, the Captain speaks from where he's plopped down onto the couch. His leather jacket is spread across its back, shucked before he sat down and retrieved his plate from the nearby coffee table tucked close to the furniture. Apparently, Tony is in charge of the ale and doling it out.

"No, me clearing the air doesn't have anything to do with the Tesseract...other than it should've been left at the bottom of the ocean, but nobody listens to me anyways," he continues to grumble before fiercely forking up some chicken. It goes into his mouth as if to stopper it up.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony's very capable of handling alchohol dispensing. Particularly when he's having some. "Open that up," Tony instructs the drone, who sets about doing just that with little forceps and a funny, charming little effort on behalf of the robot. Tony gets the ale in a tall mug, and sends it over on the drone. The robot appears by Steve and waggles the drink at him, while Tony brings his own over, to sit on the couch.

Tony presses toes to the heel of one shoe, then the other, pushing them off to the floor, comfortable. Tony's always comfortable. "Eh, if you'd left it, we'd have sharks with tesseract powered lasers on their heads by now," Tony answers, with a dismissive gesture. He can sense something else is coming, and gives Steve a steady look.

"You have that 'look.' Lay it out," Tony invites.

Captain America has posed:
The glass of Asgardian ale ends up on the coffee table and Steve thanks the drone politely as he would any butler or hired help around the Tower. Maybe he's just polite -- or maybe he's secretly leery of AI becoming truly intelligent and becoming offended if not thanked.

Tony does get a flat look for the prompting, but it's half-hearted at best. Considering his chicken again, the Captain then sighs. "I'll keep it short and sweet. You know Barnes isn't whole. What HYDRA did him...well. The star on my stealth suit makes a great target," he quips, painfully dry. That whole fiasco with a sniper rifle loaded for elephant ended with the Captain on a surgical table, nearly dead, and drugged to his gills for a week and a half. "Last time I had to take him down, it was when we were dealing with the Sleep." His fork has been laid on the plate and he's now looking dead on at Tony. "Barnes succumbed to it. Wasn't about to let him die in a coma. Turns out Loki was around to help. Help," he then echoes in a harsh whisper to himself, shaking his head and looking aside.

His voice goes more hollow, if still back to conversational volume. "He offered to wake Barnes up, to get rid of the Sleep, and while...while he was in there, he'd put the Soldier compulsion away. He did."

Steve leans in and takes up the glass of ale. Half of it goes down in a few easy swallows, indicative of his feelings on current matters. Setting it down again on the table, he coughs. "I owed him two favors for it. One's left still. Pretty damn certain he'll try to cash in on it if we move against him."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony listens to the description; he doesn't interrupt: he has alcohol to drink to keep his mouth busy. He ends up drinking all of it from the glass, and tapping his fingers against the upper edge twice.

"Okay," Tony says, using his other hand to rub once over his forehead and eyebrow. He's quick to process, though. "So, yes, situation could be better, I'll grant," Tony begins.

"I think we /should/ move, to draw out that favor," Tony suggests. "And being that Thor's who-knows-where is a damn good reason to do it sooner rather than later. Vision just got back to me on his mission - no Thor in New Asgard."

"Think Barnes can stay out of things, or is he going to need to be part of this?" Tony asks.

Captain America has posed:
Hearing of no Thor in New Asgard is enough to make Steve too bring a palm to his face. He slides it back through his blond hair, messing it up all to hell, and then rubs at the back of his neck, eyes averted to some point on the living room floor. His attention flicks back up at Tony's question and inasmuch as it stings like a pinch, it's pertinent.

"If I asked him to, he'd keep his distance. Problem is he's the martyr." Steve tries to bring forth the memory of their past discussion in the gymnasium of the Avengers mansion. "He told me he managed to earn himself another favor not too long ago. He's at two to my one 'nd...somehow, I think Loki's got him on the ropes. Tony."

Steve's cheekbones heighten as he grits his teeth side to side. "I can't let him struggle by himself. I can't. I owe him my life, more'n once. I can't let that smarmy bastard puppet him like HYDRA did." A shake of his head and Steve looks away yet again. His chin ends up rested on his fist, elbow on the arm of the sofa. "If there's a way to keep him out of the mess with the Tesseract for his safety, sure. I can push for the final favor without getting him involved. Me." He closes his eyes, frustration practically emanating from him. "Money down again Loki'll drag in Barnes to try 'nd compromise me."

Iron Man has posed:
"I hate to say it, but we really need Thor to neuter Loki," Tony observes. He hates to say the part about that it seems to come down to Thor being the obvious play. Neutering Loki he'd say over and over.

"I don't think throwing a Hulk at him this time will be effective if Loki's going to use your pal as a shield against you." Tony moves to refill Steve's ale, and also pours a small amount into his own now empied glass. It's amazing stuff but Tony needs to be conscious for at least a little longer. It's only polite. Though having ale often begets having MORE ale.

"Does Barnes have intel we can use, at least? It's possibly all lies, but maybe he's seen something we can use, or heard where Thor is."

Captain America has posed:
"It'd be more like Hulk throwing Loki," the Captain notes in a darkly-amused mutter even as he watches his glass be filled back to the brim. The very start of tingling in his fingers and toes is proof of the wickedly-potent drink beginning to work its effects on him. He's grateful for it in a resentful way. If only it were a more jovial conversation at hand.

"I'm sure Buck does have intel. I intend to speak with him as soon as possible. Haven't been able to get hold of him 'nd that isn't helping anybody's case." In fact, it makes Steve almost hair-trigger reactive in cases where he might usually keep his calm. "Believe me, I have more questions for him too." Uncoiling, Steve reaches for his glass again. Another third of his ale goes down with easy swallows. His Thai leftovers have been set off to one side on the couch, carefully balanced as to not spill on the fine fabric.

Iron Man has posed:
"He's out of contact too?" Tony asks. There's just one blink of Tony's dark eyes: just the one. "Wow. We're being played right into a corner, aren't we." Tony didn't have any ale yet-- which is just as well: the gears are going strong behind the inventor's eyes, he actually sets the ale down to use his hands to tick off things on his other fingers.

"So, he had a hand in sending you, Pym, and Nat off on a mission with Barnes. Wanda's in trouble. I -- went to the Bahamas --, possibly just coincidence, but let's pretend he knew that at least. It /was/ all over the tabloids, with Pepper on my arm," Tony says. "Dr. Strange isn't in the Sanctum. And most important, Thor's missing or compromised."

Tony turns his hand in a gesture to indicate the whole coffee table: or the whole group. "And then we have Tesseract activity starting up right at that time."

"...Whatever he's doing, he fears we can stop it."

Captain America has posed:
Steve emerges from rubbing each temple with fingertip and thumbpad, his hand having spanned his eyes briefly. Tony's conclusion is unfortunately solid. It requires more ale. Now there's only a third left in his frosted glass, which means the Captain's got an entire pint in himself. He can feel the tension in his shoulders struggling to leave, like a charlie horse slow to release.

"Damn straight he should be fearful we'll stop it. Thor..." Another shake of his head is rueful. "God, where //is// he? He could put an end to this with a few smart words..." Still, Steve pauses and looks at the genius-inventor levelly.

"...or would he? We gotta consider if Loki's plans might influence him too."

Iron Man has posed:
"The word I've gotten from Vision is that Thor isn't in New Asgard. The people there aren't concerned, though: he does this. We know he does this, too," Tony laughs. So many times Thor has just vanished somewhere - though that was before New Asgard.

"I was hoping a little more Mjolnir use, less words, but that's just me," Tony chuckles, reaching for the ale finally. He has a bit, and coughs. Phew, that's strong for a human, even a practiced alcoholic like Tony.

"Depends on what he's doing, but I doubt Thor'd go for anything that harmed New York - or Earth." Tony coughs again, but has more ale anyway.

Captain America has posed:
"We can keep our fingers crossed on that." Steve still sighs, hard enough to puff his cheeks out briefly. "Still...you're right. Should know better than to cast suspicion on him. Thor's never done us wrong. He's got the team here on Earth 'nd whomever he's dating -- I assume," the man amends with a lift of his hand silently recognizing it's definitely an assumption. "That, 'nd coffee. The food of Earth. He's always on about the wonders of new food."

Despite himself, the memories of watching the Asgardian Prince expound on the delight of crepes or the heat of ghost peppers brings a half-smile to Steve's face. "Yeah. He'd help us out." No more ale now left in his glass.

Iron Man has posed:
"That /said/, he trusts Loki, and defends him," Tony points out levelly. Steve will need to fend for refilling his glass, because Tony's got enough going on with the power of the ale in his own to continue to be a great host at the moment.

"Still the best play," TOny says, snapping his fingers, and aiming a finger-gun at Steve. "...If we can sort out where he is. Next personal project, inventing a pet-tracker to place in a Thunder God," Tony declares.

Captain America has posed:
"Bet if you told Thor the tracker was something like a FitBit or...pedometer or something to measure how much megajoules of lightning he can bring to bear, he'd wear it," the Captain opines in what appears to be guileless support. Barnes knows the tone well enough -- it bodes no good, and likely stems from the ale picking away at his usually-staid state.

"Sure there isn't some...summoning dance we can do? Or maybe we can do what he does 'nd yell at the sky. Heimdall, right? He yells that name 'nd then gets transported?" Steve squints as if he can't see his fellow Avenger clearly. Maybe so, maybe not. The ale is making him slouch as is.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yes, I'd tell him that, because it would actually do that. May as well track more than just his location," Tony snorts, drinking a bunch more of the ale. Things are going to rapidly go wild, with the consumption of alcohol rate as it is.

"Heimdall is a person, I think. Or a magic taxi. I was never really clear on it. Could be a goat," Tony observes. "JARVIS, tell Vision to sort out what Heimdall is, while he's there."

"Yes sir," JARVIS agrees tolerantly.

Captain America has posed:
Steve glances up at the ceiling and laughs for the first time since he'd arrived at the Tower. It's a jovial sound, proof that the Captain is a good-natured drunk in the rare instances he can manage it.

"Don't think he's a goat, Tony," says the soldier, glancing over and apparently realizing he still has food to eat. Oh dear, silly him. Rescuing the plate from isolation, he takes up a huge bite of chicken and then seems to pause momentarily in realization.

The plate gets set aside again, this time on the coffee table where it goes lightly //ka-klunk// for his lazy placement, and then Steve rises. A brief wobble in place has him placing his hands palms-down before him and patting the air, as if he might make it behave. "Tony, you should probably let me finish that glass of ale. It'll knock you on your ass otherwise," the Captain says around his cheekful of Thai food as he then holds out his hand as if to receive the glass. "My metaboism can take it."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony finishes the drink instead, and hands Steve the glass with a wink. It's a lot at once, but Tony's highly functioning. At least for the time being. "You wanted to drink.... let there be drink," Tony declares, with a gesture to the ale bottle and the room as a whole.

"How is that? Decent? I ate before I got home today," Tony asks, distracted by the food. The Asgardian liquor is slamming into Tony's human metabolism like a bag of rocks. "What were we talking about? Oh! Summoning Thor."

"Yeah, I have no idea." Tony looks around for his glass with mild dismay that it's missing. Oh, Steve's got it. Huh.

Captain America has posed:
"...orrrrrrr not," Steve murmurs under his breath as he considers the empty glass with a small frown of dismay. Functional indeed, but Tony's technically neck and neck with him ale-wise. If the world's as feverishly fascinating to his own eyes, he can't imagine how Tony's feeling other than out of this world.

Appropriate for the sourcing of the ale, after all.

"Uh, the food's definitely more'n decent." Taking the genius-inventor's glass with him like some accidental trophy, Steve returns to the couch and sits down. He retrieves his Thai food and decides he's going to finish cleaning his plate before he gets up again. Around another mouthful of food, he replies with the ingenuous ingenuity of the inebriated, "Dunno how to summon Thor. Are there any other Asgardians we know about? Thor, Loki..." Another frown. "Damnit." The ale of Thor's people is muddling his brain something fierce.

Iron Man has posed:
"Sure. We've met a bunch of them," Tony answers. "...Odin. Fred, Ethel. Lucy." Tony's kidding, his smile shows he's amused by his awful answer. "Heimdall the goat." Still pretty sure Heimdall is a magical goat.

"They don't attend my parties for me to know their names and species," Tony says, settling back on the couch with clear relaxed pleasure, throwing one arm along the back of it. He does orient on Steve, though, with a fairly strong intensity of gaze.

"So, lacking Thor. Mmmm. Deploying the Hulk still seems reasonable, considering."

Captain America has posed:
Laughter bubbles up behind Steve's bent wrist with how he tries to cover his mouth to prevent rice from flying out; holding his fork means not using his palm. Thankfully, no ricelets bounce off the glass surface of the coffee table at the idea of an Asgardian named Ethel -- or Heimdell the goat. Shaking his head, he goes back to shoveling the remnants of his dinner away as if he were attempting to beat an Army's canteen clock.

Still around a cheekful of Thai food, his plate now cleared, he opines, "Hulk could stop him just like back in 2012, but I'd think Loki would be prepared for him this time around. Maybe...I dunno, the guy's brain is full of weasels. I don't like him." Folding his arms, Steve straight-up...pouts for a second, stymied by morals in a deep wish to go swinging after the smarmy Asgardian.

Iron Man has posed:
When Steve returns from laughing through the rice and looks up, he'll find Tony relaxing there with one of his proper shit-eating grins, eyes partially lidded. It's a common look for Tony: He's often comfortably drunk. This is normal.

"So Barnes is in his pocket, right," Tony says, resting his head back on the couch. "And that started because.... he offered to help? And you were okay with that?" Tony wonders aloud.

Captain America has posed:
"I didn't //want// to have him help, Tony, it's just..."

Scrubbing at his face again, Steve's fingers further mess up his hair before he too leans his head back on the cushioning of the couch. "Look, you gotta have somebody in your life who's always been there." He doesn't volunteer a name, simply throws the concept out for Tony to mull over. "Who'd drop what's in their hands 'nd fight beside you even if the odds were losing ones. I told you, I owe Buck my life enough times to write my will off to him without blinking. The whole incident with the rifle 'nd the stairwell at the Triskelion don't count," he's sure to add, pointing towards the genius-inventor and briefly squinting in his direction.

Steve slouches back again, staring at the ceiling. "What were my options, with Buck set to die in a coma? I figured...figured my options were my best guy in a coffin or maybe an Asgardian telling me I should do one or two things that bend me out of shape. It seemed like the best idea at the time, accepting his help."

Iron Man has posed:
"Sure I do: Rhodey," Tony says easily. "You've met him, I think." Tony chuckles teasingly, still enjoying his couch spot, though he moves his knees some, just idle adjustments of restlessness.

"Hmmm. Mmmkay," Tony says, skeptical but he doesn't push further on it or tack Steve to the wall over it. "I was asking more if Loki came over and volunteered, or what," Tony clarifies. He looks at the table, and then towards the kitchen, starting to release a deep breath, preparing to get up to head over there. "So wait, some favors were owed. What's he made you two /do/?"

Captain America has posed:
A sigh vibrates Steve's lips in something near to a raspberry at the question. "Loki's made us do nothing overtly ominous," he replies, sounding almost upset about it. "I'm suspicious as hell. It's all //still// been in his favor. I had to console Thor after his marriage broke up -- "

He sits up and peers at Tony again. "You remember that, right? She turned out to be out to murder him?" Back his head flops to the couch cushions again.

"Anyways, that wasn't terrible. I still feel badly for Thor. Buck's gotten the dirtier work, but it's...unfortunately right up his alley." Steve considers his own glass, empty still, with annoyance. "It's all been fetching assets connected to the Sentinels. Second time around, I was with him, 'nd we ended up in Hawaii. Thing is...pretty sure he still owes a favor. 'nd I still owe a favor. Thought to push for it to get used before, remember?" He turns his face towards Tony and nods, indicating it was the man's idea.

Iron Man has posed:
"Course I remember," Tony agrees with a broad flex of hand, fanning it away. Sure. He said it today. That sounds like him. Tony's now headed into the kitchen, working towards refilling his glass. He can do this in his sleep, though his motor function seems to be highly effected. It isn't Asgard ale, but he's still going to go ahead on the alcohol thing.

"He sent you.... to do marriage counseling?" Tony clarifies, squinting. "Yeah, I remember the murder thing. Just some weird priorities with Asgardians, I guess."

Captain America has posed:
Carefully as he can manage, given a super-soldier's drunken mishandling can break plates, the blond takes up his plate and his own glass before rising. His shin bumps the coffee table, but neither leg or furniture appears to be damaged by how Steve barely reacts. He meanders into the kitchen to deposit his plate in the sink and look around for the bottle of Asgardian ale. This, he plans to take and keep practically on his person, a two-fold idea in which:

A: Tony sticks to earthly liquor, which is better for his system, and Steve cares about this, and --

B: More Asgardian ale for Steve, which is selfish and yet entirely true.

Turns out the ale is back on the coffee table, so Steve wanders back in that direction. "Yes, he sent me to do marriage counseling." A scoff from Steve and slight pinking at the tips of his ears. "I might be over a century old 'n maybe I haven't been married, but I've seen enough go down through other folks to know the bare bones of how to resolve an issue." Or so he claims as he pours himself another full pint-glass of ale. Plop: back down onto the couch sans spill.

Iron Man has posed:
"Sooooo, then, the categories have been .... things that make you somewhat uncomfortable," Tony begins to list, "Won't make the rest of us raise strong objection," Tony continues, squinting a little, as he thinks about what else. "Or get you out of the way while he's doing something else. I think maybe door number three," Tony decides.

"At least, with what we just saw. So. What else was going on during that time?" Tony shrugs, it's rhetorical, at this point. He enjoys his drink while coming back into the main room. He doesn't trip on the stairs; his autopilot is excellent.

"Do me a favor, just let me know if you're sent off to look at a distraction, eh?" Tony asks, crossing in front of Steve and attempting to swat him at shoulder/neck area once. It's companionable enough.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's grousing rises from his sprawl on the couch, now something diagonal with a leg up along it. He's taken off his boots, at least, in respect for the furniture. "If I knew what was going on while he was sending me on missions to keep me out of his work, I'd tell you, Tony." He knows the question is rhetorical; it's tamped frustration bubbling up through fissures brought on by the ale. Another deep sip and he makes a quiet grunt of acknowledgement at the friendly swat as well as the request.

"Sure, I'll let you know if he gets to asking after my 'help' again. Your favors aren't full of concealed counter-plans." Steve lets his free arm half-hang from the couch now, his fingertips brushing the floor. He glances over at Tony. "Appreciate you being level-headed about all this."

Iron Man has posed:
"Well, you're doing yourself a favor, more than me," Tony replies, his tone thick with the tone of the alcohol he's enjoying, now. Tony's still working on his glass, even still. "Maybe Thor did him a favor and look: Vanished," Tony declares. He leans forward to attempt to refill Captain America's glass.

"A toast. To not owin' favors." No, the logic isn't entirely there, but Tony's had that Asgardian ale, with now more on top of it. "And to tellin' Tony what the hell is going on, even if it's months after the fact," Tony teases.

Captain America has posed:
"To not owin' favors 'nd to bein' thoughtful 'bout telling Tony what the hell's going on," the Captain fires back, grinning over his refilled glass. The vibration of the colliding glasses still hangs in the air, a cheery sound despite the open space of the penthouse's living room. "I've still got it under control, jus'so you know." This he adds before another two gulps of ale. Somebody's not driving that motorcycle home right now, super-soldier reflexes or not.

"'sides, if I told you everything, you'd try 'nd fix it 'nd we're a team." Asgardian ale seems to give Steve immunity against his own hypocrisy, apparently.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yeah, like we've got everything under control here," Tony laughs. "What'd Bruce call us - a ticking time bomb? Maybe we can be both. A semi-controlled explosion. Might lose your eyebrows, but not your head." The genius inventor winks at Steve and downs most of his drink, relaxed once more.

"If you don't finish that, I'll have to," Tony adds, gesturing to the ale. It's not really a threat; Tony would make an attempt at it.

Captain America has posed:
As if to spite the genius-inventor's claim, there goes the rest of the Asgardian ale in the blond's glass, thoroughly dooming Steve to sleeping it off on the couch overnight in the Tower -- or wherever else Tony deigns to stash about two-hundred-odd pounds of sleeping super-soldier. The glass clunks on the table loudly and, thank god, neither glass or table breaks. It was a close thing though.

"We can be C4. Like the Fantastic Four, except there's more'n four of us 'nd...yeah, don't see my eyebrows surviving that kind of explosion." Steve laughs at his own inability to finish a coherent thought and slumps heavily back into the couch now. "The...Cataclysmic more'n-Four." Lifting hands, he frames the statement as if it were on an invisible banner before himself. "C4."

A beat. "Don't let me name stuff when'm drinking, Tony."

Iron Man has posed:
"Your helmet doesn't protect your eyebrows?" Tony asks ruefully. "Sounds like you're in dire need of an upgrade. Could be systemic: top to bottom. Lucky for you, I'm here," Tony says, settling back into the couch, and relaxing into the drunken, ridiculous banter. Somehow they'll save the world, but right now, they'll be human.

Flaws and all.