st_arkravinghazelnut

Spring was here--there was no doubt about that. Tony, in his age, had grown susceptible to chilly weather but he had his limits. Blessedly, the weather in the alternate dimensional San Luis Obispo grew hot but not overly humid. Even excepting the fact Tony's nanoparticle clothing could buffer against most weather conditions, Peter had been in the habit of borrowing the arc reactor with some regularity to convene with the AIs within, forcing Tony into the miserable position of having to weather regular clothes.

There was a better way of letting the boy spend time with his friends. He just had to get off his ass and make one.

The thoughts of the heat turned to thoughts of the tall figure lounging beside him on the glossy stool and instead of resuming his current task (what to have for lunch), unspoken questions were written on his face as he stared sideways at Loki.

"It's a cuisine thing." Tony concluded apropos of nothing as he poured over the daily menu drawn in chalk mounted proudly a few feet away.

"How was your New Years?" No sooner had Tony plopped down on the stool beside his brother-in-law to be was he making small talk, leaning well over to get the chef's attention. The kitten antics had subsided naturally as both men seemed to have rebounded from the trauma of the holiday season--rather manically, in Tony's case. He wasn't bouncing off the walls as he was on New Years Eve, though he had a rather large spring in his step.

"Did you partake? When you were in New York." Tony spoke up from across the infirmary desk, having been mostly occupied with his own journal. "Food, that is. Not wanton mayhem."

True to his cavalier word, Tony had been consistent with his follow ups for part-medical/part-cosmetic/entirely-snoopy visits with Loki, who was still repaying his debts to society. They ended up settling on lunchtime (or breakfast in Tony's case, depending on what he got up to the night before) to do the "procedure" and "enjoy" an "amiable" back and forth. Today had been rather unremarkable--a few jabs, but a lot of quiet time in between.

Maybe it was desensitization to Loki's presence, but Tony's countenance was unremarkable. Vigilant, but passively so. In an odd way, the trickster's focus on his work had a mirroring effect that prompted Tony to focus on his own. None of that excepted some "polite" conversation, however, especially over food. Pleasing Thor had become a priority, whether he wanted to put it that way or not. Consuming genuine sustenance and playing nice with the little brother simultaneously was just efficiently used time.

"C'mon, Caca, help me think." Tony was poised in front of the drawing board he fashioned and positioned adjacent to his newly-repaired window. He prodded the kitten nestled in the hood of his prized hoodie with the end of his eraser as he stared intently at the beginning of the rough sketches on the wide sheet of paper.

Ever since blasting through his wall and taking a very spur-of-the-moment flight that ended in utter failure, Tony had taken a day to himself before leaping headlong into action in quantifying his understanding of the hotel and its machinations. Not only that, but there was more than a little fussing over his cat thrown in there. In all his whirlwind of emotion, he had forgotten about his "responsibility" for a period in leaving Cacafuego potentially exposed to harm, and he felt more than a little guilty.

"The forcefield surrounding the hotel--no more than a kilometer up." He hadn't bothered to take exact measurements the night he had been formally introduced to it. Over a rough sketch of the hotel, he dotted a line above it, leaving room for more precise calculations later. "Shape is...undetermined. Invisible, obviously. The intermolecular interactions are yet to be determined. Neutron scattering the best option for measurement, here, but not currently on the table."

His first official night at the Madonna Hotel was, without a doubt, the worst night of sleep Tony Stark had ever had. Just, the worst. One would think that a lot of wandering, drinking, drunken wandering, pacing, and fruitless flight attempts on top of cutting off his stream of caffeine would have made him sleep come easier, but no. Nothing would make the knowledge that he was sleeping in a literal cave fine. No, not just a literal cave, a room drafted to look like a literal cave that some interior designer thought was a good idea.

And somehow, waking up to face the day in one was even worse.

Tony angrily adjusted his position on the red couch (the only part of the room that was kind of acceptable) to stare at the wall and list off all the things he committed to doing that day because what else was he going to do while he willed himself to get up?

Introduce himself to the guests? No, not on his life. Not today.

Find a job? Still a no on that one, good buddy.

Finally announce his presence to Peter? Shit, he actually committed to that one.

"Ugh." That teeny expression of woe was all Tony could muster as he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Despite how badly he wanted to flake that day of all days, he just knew he couldn't.

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