entranceway | text; pockets full of stones

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text; pockets full of stones

[She very much debates sending this. It isn't her style, not after the losses she's endured, not after the way this place takes, and takes, and takes, so much that it becomes commonplace, that she should find herself numb to it. Evelyn doesn't particularly anticipate replies; people go missing every day.

Her son's room is entirely empty. Evelyn knows what it means.]

If anyone sees a tow-headed boy, eight years old, please contact me.

His name is Alex.

E. O'Connell

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what do you need?

[ so fast. so efficient. ]

My son disappeared. I believe he went home permanently.

[Then, more belatedly:]

I need a drink.

my place.

10 minutes.

[A surprisingly civil and efficient response from the master of long-windedness.

Ten minutes later sees her at his door, knocking politely. It's strange, to visit someone with whom you used to be such close friends, someone who seems to accept that past regardless of his knowledge of her. It hasn't always been so easy with returnees.]

[ she's one of the only ones not to yell at him and tony figures it's a good start.

he opens the door and signals for her to enter. his room is big. one half of it looks like a luxury hotel, the other half is a lab of a sort. and there's the iron man suit, too, just to the left.

he offers her a glass. ]

that whiskey is nine levels less than what I asked the closet for. seriously, it's like it got brewed in a bathtub but. make it happen.

[ cheers. ]

[Yelling isn't effective, with Tony. Verbally dismantling him is considerably easier if you know which buttons to push.

Stepping in quietly, she assesses the open floor plan that devolves into closed-off spaces the further it gets into personal, private areas. Just as Evelyn is turning to remark on it he pushes a glass into her hand and she glances down at the contents with a lofted eyebrow.]

You must be asking the closet wrong. [She cracks a weak smile, taking a sip.] ...oh, God. This is bad.

That or the closet hates me. It'll like you better, you have years of experience and I bet you're much nicer.

[ but he laughs, a soft chuckle, barely-there but genuine all the same. tony takes a seat and gestures towards an empty chair. ]

come on. we don't need the good stuff to get semi-wasted.

Maybe not, but this rotgut might burn away my ability to taste.

[In spite of her whinging, Evelyn does maunder over to the chair in question, still sipping, and seats herself sideways. Leaning against one armrest with her legs over the other, she cradles her glass quietly for a moment.]

Thank you for having me over.

I mean, if I'm going to burn away my liver, might as well do it with you.

[ which means, you're very welcome, any time. ]

wish I could meet him. tell him his mom is badass.

[Evelyn makes a face torn between disdain and amusement, because she'd like the same thing: Alex is something of an inventor, building little engineering projects at such a young age, and he would probably be thrilled to meet someone with Tony's skill set.

The latter part of the statement, however...]

Do you know me well enough to draw that conclusion?

Naturally.

[ he makes a face, as if what she has asked him is utterly absurd. tony stark just seems to knowt ehse things things. ]

I have a sense about these things.

[ ish. ]

are you going to say you're not? are we really going to have this conversation?

[A sense about these things. Sure he does.]

All right, all right, [Evelyn concedes, one hand up in surrender.] I'll accept the compliment. But try not to make a habit of giving them out, I'll get a big head.

[It is a little known fact that she adores compliments and likes to preen in them.]

the biggest. huge. overall, I think you're a very arrogant person. Really stuck-up, classic narcissist.

[ no, that's what they say about him. and maybe it's true, maybe tony stark has a thousand character flaws but in the end, he cares about a chosen few. one of them is in the chair in front of him. ]

it's fine. my natural humility balances it well. your secret is safe, I won't tell a soul.

[He continues at such a lightning-fast pace that Evelyn can do precious little else but sit there and take it, suppressing a smile at his increasing ridiculousness.

Evelyn knows he is paraphrasing the sorts of things the media says about him. Not so narcissistic now, when he is expressly attempting to cheer her up. She dips her fingers in her drink and flicks whisky at him.]

You're insufferable.

You know, it's bad enough that we drink it. Keep doing that and I'll end up looking like Leatherface - you don't know who it is. It's from the 70s.

[ this is so tragic ]

isn't there a cinema here? you have to catch up.

[Context clues enable her to draw her own conclusions, Tony.]

I've seen modern films, [Evelyn replies defencively, taking another sip of her drink.] They're not necessarily better.

You've seen the wrong films.

[ oh wait. now that's a way to fix this - ]

we'll make it a thing. it's a humanitarian aid project, you've been here for years and you don't get any modern reference. can't go on. How's your Mondays looking?

Did you ever think that more people ought to learn about my time, so I'm not the only person bridging the gap?

[Evelyn replies drily, taking another sip of her closet swill.]

Mondays are free, making exceptions for those that fall within event parameters.

Alright, I'm listening.

[ it all sounds fair enough and as long as Tony is stuck here, he does have a sufficient amount of time to to find a way out and socialize with a rare few. ]

How is it that you're going to teach me about your time? Will be a trade. We'll be business partners.

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