fade rift. inbox.

[propulsion]

"You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark."

sending crystal
written correspondence
private scenes

Comments

[hornswoggle]

Does Tony have a little workstation in the Research offices? Hope so, because John is occupying it when he arrives.

"I've a question for you, if you'll entertain me for a few moments."

No, it's not about the beard oil from Satinalia before last.

[propulsion]

The Felandaris office is easily identifiable, kept with surprising orderliness for anyone who might be familiar with the sheer chaotic energy of the person who works here.

Tony pauses on his way in, squinting at Silver, before continuing his trajectory to his desk. His hands have mail in them.

"Try leaving it in over night," he says, because obviously it's about the beard oil. "You'll be in goose down city in no time."

[hornswoggle]

To his credit, John hasn't touched anything apart from the chair he's sitting in. The small book over his knee is closed in the course of Tony's approach, slipped into a pocket.

There's a beat of quiet where John weighs up potential approaches, and decides upon—

"It won't make a ruin of the pillowcase?" John counters, instead of getting to his actual point for being here.

[propulsion]

"Yeah, little bit."

Tony goes and retrieves a chair shoved off to the side, which often becomes the filing chair, not the chair you do filing in, but a chair on which filing might sit. Today it is empty, and so he brings it around so he can sit.

"Use an old pillow case, maybe layer it. I promise, it's worth it."

He crosses a leg over the other, lounging back.

upgrades my og plan in light of Announcements

[hornswoggle]

"Interesting," is the verdict. "I've sufficient motivation to consider it, at least. Sacrificed pillowcases or not."

It's not as if he's received complaints, but it sounds considerate. A shame he gave the oil over to Bastien's white elephant exchange.

John's hands fold over the slant of his crutch. He's adopted a comfortable lean in his chair in the course of the exchange.

"I hear congratulations are in order."

airhorns

[propulsion]

"I heard that too," Tony says. "God knows we could use a little morale around the place, but I won't say she's not got her work cut out for her."

He is only half-kidding, honest.

"Thanks," a pivot, short and sweet and sparing Silver from yes-and'ing his banter.