open and closed.

[propulsion]

WHO: Marcus Rowntree, Valerius Hildebrand, Tony Stark, Loxley
WHAT: Some open starters, some closed starters. Hit me up in DMs or plurk if you want to do something!
WHEN: Cloudreach
WHERE: Location
NOTES: TBA

Comments

[propulsion]

"Yeah?"

Tony is located in one of the plush chairs in the corner of the room, near the big windows, reading a series of loose sheets of paper that he has to tip down to look at her over. "Sounds irresponsible," he says. "Of you, to wait for today to tell me. Sounds like someone needs their pay docked."

His affect is very dry, negligent, bringing his papers back up to read which also interrupts their eyeline.

[obdurata]

“So our newly minted head of Research has no idea what experiments are being carried out within the Gallows? Would I be able to get that in writing on a receipt for my docked wages?”

She lets the door swing closed behind her, crossing to sit on the arm of his chair so she can better lean and see what he's reading—

mind, there's absolutely nothing stealthy about this.

[propulsion]

Tony angles the pages so she can see, like, knock yourself out. The uniform precision of the lettering looks like a Trade translation of something, and they seem to be deeds and records pertaining to mining operations, along with some correspondence that certainly isn't addressed to Tony. Extremely engaging stuff.

Adjusts a little in his seat to accommodate her nearness, a leg resting up on the footrest. "I live by the guiding principle that you can only tell people what to do," he says, "not what not to do."

[obdurata]

“Refreshing,” she says, which must be his perspective because it can't possibly be mining operation records. (Although she does cast a weather eye over them, anyway, you never know.) “What'd you blow up?”

It isn't that she thinks he'd be upset if it were someone else and he didn't know about it, but she does think he'd be interested.

[propulsion]

Yeah, true.

Tony let's the corner of his mouth turn up after fixing her with a look of brown-eyed innocence, before redirecting it back to the records he's holding. "Thermal engine prototype," he says. "Installed the power core, flicked the switch, and," his hands mime the rounded expulsion of force and flame that ensued.

"I made it out okay. Fred, not so much."

[obdurata]

“Are you naming your prototypes?”

[propulsion]

"No," Tony says, enunciating. "That would be crazy. Fred is an automaton who lives in the dungeons and was an innocent bystander to the whole thing. But yeah, the engine's toast too."