Tony Stark, accept no substitutes (
toblameforit) wrote2010-07-01 07:49 pm
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Tony stumbles into the kitchen wearing beat-up jeans, a white tank top, mismatched socks in scuffed old sneakers, and a triumphant grin. His hair is a mess and his clothing is covered in smudges of dirt and various colours of sawdust. Clearly, however, something is going right for him.
He makes a beeline for the coffee machine.
He makes a beeline for the coffee machine.
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"Thanks."
Wild. They look exactly alike. Sherlock's smile is just a little bit different, she thinks. This makes her wonder whether he chose the persona of Sherlock Holmes to try to be as different from Tony as possible. Both she and Alec went through phases in which they tried to distance themselves from being "just a twin", so she gets that. The thought has crossed her mind that it's not exactly normal to make yourself into a fictional character, but in Sherlock's case, it works for her. If that's who he needs to be, Alyce has no problems with following along.
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Tony gets out a second mug and grabs a plum from the fruit bowl while he's waiting for the coffee machine. His fingers leave prints in sawdust on the skin of the fruit; he makes a face and moves to the sink to rinse off both it and his hands.
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"Um. Been woodworking?"
If she wasn't feeling shy (and sleepy), she'd be a much better conversationalist.
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"Yep. I got it all figured out," he confides. "I mean, shielding a house against magic, that's easy. You just have to know the right materials; it's big enough that how you put them together doesn't matter much. That's what tripped me up at first, actually, 'cause I was trying to work with scale models and the precision you need to cover a dollhouse is nuts. One splinter in the wrong place and you have to start all over again. A person, though, is doable. Tough but doable."
At this point he interrupts his sleep-deprived babbling to breathe and take a bite of his plum.
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Wow. Okay. That's a lot of talking for this early in the morning.
"Oh, good. That's, um, really good."
She's not entirely sure what he's talking about, but his enthusiasm is contagious.
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"I know, right?" Om nom plum. "Man, when is Sherry gonna wake up? I wanna show him the goods already."
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The goods. Woodworking. Sawdust. Magical protection. Shielding a person. The gears whir in Alyce's brain.
Oh. Oh. Okay, that is cool. If it's what she thinks it is - a Faraday cage for a person?
She's not going to say it out loud just in case she's wrong.
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Coffee's done. He pours for both of them and hands her a mug, which means her mug now has sawdust on it. At least there is no sawdust in the actual coffee.
"He's gonna look like a total weirdo," he adds, cheerfully, "but y'know, that's not new. And it's kind of a badass weird. The coat, I mean."
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She doesn't think he does, anyway. But then, she doesn't look like a typical teenage girl herself.
"So you made a protective coat out of-" She flicks some of the sawdust on her cup away. "Um. Wood?"
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He eats the last bite of his plum, tosses the pit into the trash can across the room, decides wiping his fingers on his shirt would be vastly counterproductive, and takes a gulp of coffee instead. It's very good coffee.
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Yay awkward silence! She must fill it with... something! Anything!
"So now there's a protective coat. How will you test it?"
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"Dunno. Wanna help?"
Because he gave it what he could, but Tony Stark is not a man designed for witchcraft, and this is one product he is not eager to field-test right off the line.
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"Of course."
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Pouring himself another cup of coffee: "Like now, or you wanna have breakfast or whatever first?"
Tony is aware that sometimes people need these things called 'food' and 'sleep' in order to function. Quite often he does, too, but right now he is running on a combination of enthusiasm and coffee.
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She reaches for an apple.
"Would it be okay if I made toast? If there's bread?"
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She feels super weird rummaging through a stranger's kitchen, but she locates both the bread and a toaster and starts her toast.
"Do you want some?"
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With this as his parting line, he wanders off, coffee in hand.
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She gets out the butter and jelly, and, after a couple of tries, finds the silverware drawer. She sits down at the table and butters her toast. It's too quiet in the house. Alyce needs to fill quiet spaces.
"Um, hi, Jarvis? Is Sherlock awake yet? Or do you know?"
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She nibbles on her toast.
"So, um, how are you today?"
She has no idea whether an artificial intelligence responds to questions like that, but it seems like the polite thing to ask.
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"Fine, thank you," says the disembodied voice. "And yourself? I was sorry to hear about your difficulties yesterday."
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Which is... a good thing, right?
At least he (it? no, he) has a soothing voice.
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Cameras everywhere! The boys are used to it, but Jarvis makes sure to avoid spying on guests when they are doing anything private. Trusted guests, at least. Alyce qualifies for that category.
"I'm happy to know you're feeling better."
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(If any footage of her showering ends up on the Internet, serious curses will abound. Alyce can take care of herself, in that regard.)
"I'm happy to be better. It's all thanks to Sherlock."
Her voice takes on a softer tone when she mentions his name.
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