Logs:Gun-shy

Gun-shy
Dramatis Personae Steve, Tony
In Absentia	2021-02-15 "Maybe the fictional superhero stuff might make for decent research, after all."
Location <NYC> Tony's Penthouse - Stark Tower - Midtown East
Accessible only by private elevator, this home takes up the top four floors of Stark Tower. Three of them are residential, a luxurious sprawl of space equipped with state of the art technology and a wealth of comforts. Private gym, terraced pool room whose glass walls can be rolled back in summer to turn it into an outdoor balcony, full bar equipped with robotic-armed bartender, extensive home entertainment system. For all its opulence, the place is decorated tastefully, careful coordination through its wood-and-stone look. The views, through many windows, terraces, balconies, might be the best part of all of it; from this perch high atop the tower, the city spreads out beneath. The lowest floor of the home is less residential, more technologically bent; packed with a host of robotics, monitors, equipment. Where Tony does the bulk of his personal work, it may well be the real heart of Stark Industries' R&D. It's a cold, miserable morning, gray rain streaking the immense windows that look out over a damp and sleepy city not yet ready to return to the work week. Steve is just on time for his early appointment, though, his hair and gray overcoat only a bit damp, water sliding off the glossy surface of the shield slung across his back. He's just unbuttoning the coat and unwrapping a soft red scarf from around his neck as steps out of the elevator, dressed neatly underneath in a navy suit in classic lines, white dress shirt, ocean blue tie with a silver star tie pin, and black dress boots. "Good morning, Mister Stark," he ventures, a bit stiffly, as he looks around. Tony is sitting in an armchair when Steve arrives, more casual than Steve is in jeans and a soft grey tee over a long-sleeved white one. There's a glowing holographic schematic in front of him, a complicated exploded diagram of some kind of robotic exosuit; he bats the model aside as Steve enters, disappearing the whole contraption. "Would you care for coffee, Captain Rogers?" It isn't J.A.R.V.I.S.'s smooth voice but a different one, light and lilting and still noticeably mechanized, with a faint Irish brogue. "It's early yet." Tony's hands have dropped to rest on his knees, his head lifting in not-quite a greeting. The first sibilant that almost comes from his mouth hitches, fails, shifts instead into, "-- Rogers. World ending again?" Steve's eyebrows lift at the artificial voice, then frown. "Yes, please. I take it black." He hangs his coat and scarf up and, after a very slight hesitation, his shield, as well. "No." Another frown. "Well, yes, but only in the ah -- expected ways." It seems to take an effort for him to stray farther into the cavernous space and approach Tony. "Did you -- replace Jarvis?" His eyes flick to the ceiling, as though that were where the AI -- either of the AIs -- resided, then back down to his host. "Technically, J.A.R.V.I.S. replaced Jarvis." Tony waves a hand -- also in the direction of the ceiling, coincidentally. "I gave the system -- an overhaul. Meet F.R.I.D.A.Y." There's a small wheeled drone emerging from behind a door, a platter atop it with two cups of coffee. "A pleasure," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replies as the coffee stops by Steve. Steve's expression does something quick and complex, settling on slightly confused. "I know it -- he? -- isn't Edwin Jarvis, I just mean..." He shakes his head, eyes lifting dubiously to the ceiling again. "Nice to meet you, Friday," he says, the faintest flush in his cheeks. He looks relieved with the coffee arrives, and takes up one of the cups. "Thank you," is kind of directed at -- the drone. "So ah...how -- have you been doing?" His gaze travels around the room as though searching for changes. Returns to Tony, pensive. "Settling in alright?" "J.A.R.V.I.S. is still -- there. Just. Hibernating." Steve's question draws a blink from Tony. "You being serious with this." He plucks up the other mug when the table comes to him. His other hand taps at his knee with a quiet thunking sound. "Haven't bankrupted the company yet. How's the ah. Heroing." Steve looks just a touch relieved -- then just a touched embarrassed, disguising both behind a generous swig of his coffee. "Meant to check in on you sooner, but --" His expression tightens, then relaxes just as quickly. "No excuse. Not doing a lot of heroing, at the moment. Looking to change that." He drifts closer to Tony. "May I sit?" Tony's brows hitch, brief and surprised, but it passes soon. "Got a staff for that." He waggles his cup lazily in the direction of an empty armchair. "Huh. Media makes it out like you --" The twitch of his mouth is small and thing. "Well. Guess it never tells the whole story. What. Do you do, then?" "Different when it's their job," Steve hazards, sinking into the chair Tony indicates, "and anyway, I imagine they mostly think you're him." He licks his lips. Takes another sip of his coffee. "It sure doesn't. Would rather the media made more of my volunteering and less of my standing around in uniform at the inauguration, but..." His broad shoulders hitch. "I volunteer a lot. Train a lot. Work on getting the Avengers together in between. Admit I'm a bit gun-shy about it, considering how that turned out in your world." Tony's jaw tightens. "Yeah. Not exactly a success story." His eyes shift away to the window, fingers tapping again on his knee. "Big step. There a lot of Avenging needs doing now? We mostly got called in when the world needed --" He huffs out a breath. Small and sharp. "Saving." "That hole between our worlds demonstrated the need pretty eloquently." Steve frowns. Follows Tony's gaze, staring out at clouds almost low enough to graze the downtown skyline. "But I think a team like that has to seriously -- and maybe continually -- evaluate when to intervene, and how, and who for." He looks back at Tony, ice blue eyes steady. "I'd appreciate your perspective on that and -- on your Avengers, in general. What you did right." His shoulders tightens, but his tone remains even. "Where you went wrong." "Could write a book or two on that -- actually," Tony amends with a snap of his fingers, "there was one. Can send it over if you're up for homework." He takes a swig from his mug, then sets it back on his knee with a small thump. "We smelled smoke, we put out the fires. Usually about how it went. Got portals opening to other dimensions, nuclear bombs flying, aliens invading, you don't stop every time to evaluate whether you should save all those lives first." Steve raises an eyebrow, mug paused halfway to his mouth. "Please do. I've been looking for relevant reading materials but ah..." He takes a sip, shoulders hitching in a barely visible shrug. "Somehow, there's not much written on the subject of superheroing -- not much nonfiction, anyway." A quick shake of his head. "Of course I wouldn't expect to have the leisure to think things through when emergencies are happening, but planning ahead? Speaking up and using our influence? Those we can --" Cuts off suddenly, eyes wide. "Wait. Aliens as in space aliens?" "Yeah, uh, weirdly, holes in the fabric of time never responded much to our ad campaigns. I'm sure you're --" Tony looks over Steve, brows hitching. Takes another swallow of his coffee. "Very compelling, though." He pulls his holographic display back up, smaller than before, flicking rapidly through his files as he speaks. "Generally -- where they come from, yep. Well. Guess it's not always space. There was that whole undersea kingdom and the -- antarctic dinosaurs and --" His head shakes quickly. "Mostly space aliens." Steve's jaw tightens, his eyes flicking sharp and furious back to Tony, but if he was going to offer some retort he is quickly sidetracked by the laundry list of non-space aliens the otherworldly Avengers encountered, his face growing increasing incredulous. Finally he gives a noncommittal "huh", still, perhaps a bit angry, though much the heat has gone. "Maybe the fictional superhero stuff might make for decent research, after all." He drains his coffee. Cups the empty mug between his hands, elbows braced on his knees in a sudden departure from his stiffly formal posture before. "Look, I freely admit I don't really know what I'm doing. Research and plan all we like, it's going to be a lot of making things up as we go. But I'm not only here because DJ recommended I ask you about the Avengers." When he looks up at Tony again his expression is a perplexing mixture of wistful and determined. "You haven't got many people you can talk to about home. Even if you don't want to talk about it I think -- it can't be good to pretend all the time." "Never did watch any of the movies they made. Heard yours was very uplifting." Tony's eyes shoot up from where he's still flicking through his files. They're just slightly wider when they lock on Steve -- for a beat -- before dropping sharply back down. "He joining you? Probably has his own opinions on where we went wrong." His mouth twitches to the side. "Probably right about some of them. Always been a. Pretty insightful man." Steve blinks rapidly. "They made --" He straightens, shaking his head. "I don't know how anything surprises me anymore." Lifts his mug almost all the way up before remembering it's empty. "Yeah. He's my co-captain, though I don't think we're aiming to be very hierarchical." Stares down into his cup. "He does seems to be. Still wanted both of your opinions." Lifts his eyes to Tony again. "I don't know how insightful you are, but if you're anything like my --" He stops abruptly. Corrects to "-- like your alter ego, then you are driven. That's not nothing if you apply it to examining the past, and I'm guessing you do." "Co-captain." Tony's eyes flick aside, a swift dart to Steve's hanging shield. "So you're -- both planning to run around with a big target on, then. Well. Gonna jump into a new world might as well --" His hand makes a small diving motion. He taps at his console again -- there's an email that comes through shortly after, with an attached folder of files including a small collection of books or articles about the Avengers -- none of them from any publication that exists in this universe. "A little sooner, maybe a little later, but that war would have happened with us or without us. Maybe that's the real problem with superheroes." His hand tips just a little to one side, waggling the mug in his hand. "Thinking you can save the world's a bad place to set out from." "Maybe it was an ill-considered offer. Or a selfish one, at least. I'll do my best to shield him from it, but I imagine his will be the bigger target." His eyes follow Tony's "Even if mine is more literal." His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he doesn't reach for it. "Thank you. To be honest, I never thought I could save the world. But that doesn't mean I can't try to make things better." He quirks one eyebrow. "Probably doesn't hurt to have folks well-positioned to deal with -- dimensional portals and nuclear bombs and alien invasions, from space or otherwise." His head dips slightly. "I'm very aware that what we do -- and how we do it -- will set some precedents in this world. Not going to take that responsibility lightly." He spreads his hands -- or starts to, anyway, thwarted by one hand in a brace and the other holding the mug, which he finally sets down. "I was hoping you'd be open to talking with me regularly. Not necessarily about the Avengers, though that's sure to be on my mind a lot, going forward." "Was kind of in the whole mission statement. Ours, anyway. With my --" Tony glances up to Steve. Then back down, knocking back the rest of his coffee and setting the mug aside on the small mobile table that had brought it there. "I'm sure you'll both have. Plenty of time to come up with your own." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out something small to set it down beside the mug. "Gonna be spending a lot of time with DJ? Might -- end up changing your mind on that." The table hums quietly toward Steve, settling between them and swiveling to angle a flat steel ring in Steve's direction. "You give that to him, next time you see him?" "It's been a while, I know, but -- I'm sorry for your loss." Steve sounds wholly sincere, if a bit awkward. Swallows, his next breath just a touch shaky. "Can't be easy to look at me and not think of him." Clears his throat, blinks his eyes clear. "Yeah I -- well, it's not easy for him either, or me. But I don't intend to hold him at arm's length unless that's what he wants." His gaze flicks to the moving table, and he transfers his own empty mug onto it, the furrow in his brows at first uncomprehending. Then his eyes go wide. "Dear God, is that his --" Looks up at Tony sharply, his breathing faster. "I suppose," he starts again, struggling to keep his voice even as he picks up the ring -- so carefully, as if fearful he might crush it, "he would like it back." He rises abruptly. "I'm sure you're very busy. I should -- go." He's still cradling the ring in his right hand as if unsure what to do with it as he starts toward the door, but then hesitates. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."