[Said more so that she knows he heard her, because even he realizes he's doing that thing where he sinks a little too far into a spiral of thoughts and isn't paying enough attention to everything happening in the real world or whatever. But once he's done sifting through it - and back to rubbing his thumb over her knuckles without realizing, just a slow stable back-and-forth - he's got a plan and the look she gets is pretty damn businesslike.]
And ya like her.
[As a therapist, he means, because he's making the assumption that Heather is now seeing Jenna.]
[Unfortunately that assumption passes her right by. She's too interested in the way the gentle movement of his thumb over her knuckles contrasts with the look on his face to pick up on that implication.]
I like her a lot. She was the first person here I felt like I could trust. Can trust. She'd never repeat anything you said to her, I'm sure of it. Or judge you, anything like that.
[And yeah, somewhere there's a little spark of recognition that says "hey, Heather, you might be overselling this a little", but it's drowned out by the hope that he might see it through and get back to his old self.]
[That very last thing gets her a flick of his eyes up to the ceiling and a mockery of a chastising rap of his thumb atop one of her knuckles.]
Ain't worried about her judgin' me.
[Please. There are precious few people whose approval he cares about, and as soon as his eyes come back down to meet hers he nearly says that, too. And then he realizes it might be kind of obvious anyway, tilts his head and shrugs with that shoulder in an odd little sideways nod of concession. Worried about Heather judging him? Yes. Other than shrugging that admittance he's not sure how to say it - or rather, he is, but she wouldn't understand it and at the thought he turns his head to settle his gaze on the bike.]
[That sharp tap of his thumb is so familiar, so like something he'd have done in the time she can't help thinking of as before, and in her head she's already reacting in kind - nudging his side with an elbow, rolling her eyes and asking why the hell he's so averse to talking to someone if he doesn't care what they think - before she remembers it's not like that anymore and reins it in. Inclines her head towards him instead and wonders over that look of his.]
So you'll go, then. You'll see her and you'll really try.
[It's not often that she's this earnest with people. Honest, yes, but this is something else, and he brings it out in her more than anyone else she knows. Especially now, when she's hurt and worried and missing him all over again, and she wonders if he realizes -
right up until she follows his line of sight. Well, she did pretty well to hold his attention that long anyway.]
I should've done this the other way around. Said you could have the bike if you went to therapy. I could have got at least two sessions.
[It comes out, slow and thoughtful, but not reluctant. Slow because he's thinking and because he could've sworn he already agreed to it, only to realize that the decision was only made in his head and never stated. His attention comes back to her quick enough once she starts speaking in trades, though the way he's facing has it so that he can keep an eye on both her and the bike. It's only then that the realization of how serious she's taking this hits. She's not pleading, but there's something in it that flirts with desperation and it makes him angry with himself all over again, somewhere low and hurting in his chest. He turns to her and lets go of her hand and scowls at how fucked up it is that that is now the admission of trust, the demonstration of care.]
Don't - [Right, don't tell her what to do. Inward huff, outward huff, and a glance over at the bike as his posture suddenly goes to awkward.] Maybe, but uh. I'll go. Yeah.
[This lip-chewing moment brought to you by whatever the Dutch word for chapstick is.]
Need to give ya yours.
[Her gift, that is. Though after something like a goddamned bike he's afraid she'll find his lacking.]
[Lightly, like it's mean to be a joke. And it is, mostly, except for the tiny worry that he actually does think that, and that's what the don't means. As soon as she's said it she sort of regrets it, because if that's not what he meant it might be kind of offensive and if it is it might be kind of upsetting anyway, but. Well. It's out now. On her knee, her hand curls in on itself. It's good that he could take his hand away like that, right? Normal. Something to be glad for.
Her eyebrows raise and then lower in concern when he continues. He'd mentioned something before, but she hadn't really expected anything to happen about it, given the state he was in. This could be awkward.]
No rush.
[No, that sounds like she doesn't care. Ugh.]
I mean, I know that's gotta be hard for you right now...
[While he doesn't actually say "uh...?" his expression betrays him - and even if it didn't the sudden look between her, bike, her - that might do it. It's a joke he gets, once he checks, but not a joke he likes. Not that he likes most jokes but that one hits a bit too close to them.
No rush, she says. As soon as she says it he jerks toward her chin-first and narrows his eyes, trying to find a way out of it or to postpone it and it's right there to take and the other part of him, the protective part, wants to shake her and tell her to get back to being a bitch to him for their own good. And he doesn't do that, but he ends up tearing a hand through his hair and spitting out one word that means ten different things, half of them contradicting one another.]
No. Quit doin' -
[What would be great is a cigarette but instead he simply gets jittery and loses that thread of thought, almost immediately. Licks his lips and sighs and goes back to the original statement.]
I need to.
[Despite the desire to get up and pace out everything he stays still and stares at her to see if she gets it, or at least some of it. He needs to, because it's one little piece involved in fixing this mess, yes, but he's not sure what else to go on.]
[Oh, hell. None of this is turning out how she wanted, and for a moment she closes her eyes and just gives a tiny shake of her head.]
You're right. Sorry. I just -
[wanted to see him happy. Not just for him to be happy, which at least would be respectable, but selfishly wanted to see it, and maybe find a moment or two to pretend everything was okay. She drags a slow breath in and a firm huff out, opens her eyes and nods at him.]
Okay. Let's do this.
[Another time she'd wink at him or pump her fist, make a joke of the weird intensity of it, but she's really not up to it. Can't paint a layer of cockiness and bravado over it, so what he gets is raw and awkward sincerity. If he needs it, then yes. Of course.]
[Some weird part of him wants to flail over her apology and shut it down, no, don't be sorry, he's the one that should be, right. But other than a fleeting moment of looking completely open - his worries and reservations and that intense wanting all tangled up and laid right out for her observation - a slip - he doesn't react to her apology. Shuts it down once he realizes what is happening and focuses on the next part, that next step. Giving it away.
He breathes in and nods, shoots his hand out to grip the bike and in an effort to change the mood he shifts his focus there, too.]
Could ride it. Up.
[By that he means ride them up. Back home he can manage groceries and passengers with one hand clasped on an umbrella through rush hour traffic in the dripping rain, he's sure he can give them both a lift in a deserted ship.]
[It takes her a second, but when she catches his meaning she brightens.]
Yeah?
[And then there's a moment where she looks from him to the bike and back again because there are a whole bunch of reasons it's a terrible idea. She doesn't even like being in a car driven by someone else, let alone being on a bike he's never ridden before and hasn't had a chance to get used to and she can think of about five ways off the top of her head it could get weird, but... fuck it. She wants to help, she wants to see him ride the bike, and no matter how unhelpful it might be right now she wants to be close to him. So she nods, gives him a lopsided smile and tweaks at his collar like it's crooked.
[Though even as he grunts the reassurance she's looking at the bike and him and for whatever reason he nearly opens his mouth to brag about that one time he dodged through traffic during a snowfall with Lux and a few pairs of ice skates jamming his tires - at that same time he halfway catches himself (what was that thought even) and she reaches out. Speaks up, and it's the best thing he's heard in days. At the very least. Best not to think about it, he just sits up, stands and nearly yanks her along with his enthusiasm.
And despite how much is wrong, with everything, the idea of a bike ride with her along is enough to clear all of that to side for a fleeting moment. Bike ride. The two of them and hehasabikeholyshityesbikes. Before he knows it he's throwing a leg across and settling like it was made for him - and then he grips it with his other hand, looks up at her at the same time he realizes it was made for him - and for just that second looks like a kid in a toy shop.
Of course then it's all business and nodding to the front of him as he stands over it, not jumping up and down on the balls of his feet but that same sort of air of excited impatience is down there somewhere, despite how calm he tries to come across and the layers of stoicism he slaps over it. In this case it's harder to hide, the idea that she should be excited too colliding with his genuine joy over sitting on a bike for the first time in nearly a year. Kind of a whiplash and he knows everything he just ignored will catch up to them but he's selfish and he wants this moment.]
[He's not fooling her. It doesn't matter how brief that look of joy is, it's enough to light her up in answer because that right there - despite the mask and the fights and her tears and anger and his greed and paranoia and how fucked it all is - that look is everything she wanted. And he's a picture on it, the smile on his face and those long, long legs that she'd been a little worried about because she'd had to communicate his height with guesses and a hand held over her head in approximation. It's perfect. He might hide all his feelings behind a stony expression but it's just another variation of what she does with anger and snark, and right now she's definitely not buying what he's selling.
She settles in front of him with a complete lack of elegance, laughing at the skippity-hop movement she has to make to do so and the fact that she's really got no idea what she's doing.]
Alright, we good?
[Am I doing this right is what she means, but she's at least temporarily pleased enough not to think on that any further and listen to all the different ways in which the answer is no.]
[Has she ever ridden on a bike as a passenger? It'd kind of suck if she fell off.]
Don't fall off.
[Best instructions. If he wasn't so excited and impatient about trying it out he'd ask if she had. Still, just in case, he starts off slowly (for him) and that phrase about it being easy to ride a bike again is very true. And if she does slip he'll tug her to him and he probably should do that anyway, but there's the nagging worry that it'll lead to another embarrassing case where he has to work to let go. So all he does is start off, make sure she's not going anywhere, but after he thinks it's good he starts working up to a decent clip despite the fact that he'll have to slow down for the lift.]
[The driest tone of voice, which probably does nothing to conceal the tension in the way she holds herself and doesn't know where to put her hands because she's kind of afraid she's going to fall off. It gets worse when he starts moving, though she manages not to actually suck in a breath, but he speeds up and clearly knows what he's doing - not that she ever really doubted it - and she relaxes by degrees.]
How's it feel?
[Which is a lot more dignified than do you like it do you like it huh huh huh?]
[Except that it comes out like a bike with shitty tires is the best thing in the entire universe, not quite laughed out but his voice attempts to go up a pitch and breathless in the middle of it. Once he hears it he's torn between wishing she hadn't heard anything at all and wishing he hadn't tried to hold it back in the first place because she'd probably like to hear it.
Unless she's asking how great it is to be on a bike again, but he doesn't have words for that.]
[She would have liked to hear it, but what she does hear is enough for that response to come out warm and affectionate. She turns her head towards him even though she's still a little too wary of this passenger deal to actually turn it far enough to see him. Wouldn't do to spoil the moment by overbalancing them.
There's a whole bunch of things she wants to say - I'm glad you like it and it's good to hear you happy and I've missed you, but what actually comes out is:]
[The way she says it makes him want to lean in, and then she turns her head and he really wants to lean in, but he's. Biking. Where he'd like to press closer and nuzzle, at least, that turns into a half-grin and a full-fledged snort when she asks if he can go faster. Of course he can.
Faster it is.
It also gets them to the lift in record time and once they're there he finds it hard to get off of the bike. Damn.]
[Luckily - or maybe unfortunately - she's distracted enough not to note the reluctance as anything strange as she hops off the bike, not quite giddy but flush-cheeked with laughter and resting a hand on his thigh for stability as she does. Slaps the button for the lift and takes a moment to look at him, and doesn't bother to hide her smile.]
You look good on there.
[He does, in a whole lot of different ways, but the ones that really matter to her are comfortable and happy. And looking ta him, for the first time in a long time, she's proud of something she's done.]
[A little sound that slips out, has always slipped out even when he was a kid and too blindsided with the moment to clamp it down, and just like when he was a kid faced with riches it comes out the same way - taken aback and kind of flattered that anyone would want to give him something good enough for it.
It also makes him blush, every time.
Luckily the door opens as his cheeks flare and he has enough sense, still, to throw his leg back to standing and wheel it in. Once it's in he kneels, and starts pointing out all the parts and how they're put together - never letting the bike go - just attempting to shop talk his way over all of that.]
[God help her but that's cute. The man walks around like he owns the place and something that she considers a pretty minor compliment and definitely not something he doesn't already know still draws that kind of reaction? Cute. There's a brief moment of worry when the lift arrives - this is going to be awful, isn't it, she's not a fan of the lifts at the best of times but right now the two of them in an enclosed space seems like a terrible idea - but he's got that too, and she drops gratefully into a crouch on the other side of the bike. Watches his hand making its tour around the different mechanisms at first, but pretty soon she's just watching his face as he talks.
It's easy to pretend, like this. To listen to the familiar cadence of his voice, the way his face moves when he's talking about something he knows and cares about. It's a good while before she becomes aware of the soft sort of smile she's wearing and tries to rearrange it into something neutral, something safer.]
Wish I could say I had more to do with putting it together, but I was mostly playing fetch for the materials. It's amazing what they'll let you take from engineering if you tell 'em Tony Stark sent you.
[There are precious few subjects he gets on a roll about, but bikes are something he could talk about through twenty trips up and down the lift and then some. It starts out with him glancing up at her to see if she's following as he goes and admires the craftsmanship and explains way more than she probably ever wanted to know about types of gears and brakes, ends up with him paying more attention to the bike the longer he explains. By the time she speaks he has to snap himself out of it, blinks up with an apology on his face and snaps his mouth shut when she doesn't look bored after all.
Another blink as he processes what she's saying.]
Tony Stark, huh.
[The name's familiar and that's about it. Apparently Tony Stark has never mentioned the Gardens and that's almost all he pays attention to as far as the network goes.]
[Not bored, no. She's interested in the way things work, something born from necessity (raised by a single parent on a freelance writer's income, replacing something that could be repaired instead had always been out of the question) that had grown into a sense of satisfaction about being able to fix things, knowing that she could take something apart and it would still work after she put it back together. Really the only thing that keeps her from gazing in rapt attention is that she's been so worried about him that seeing him this way is like rain on parched soil. The bike can wait.
Then, of course, the nasty little though bubbles up that he might be okay for the most part. That it's her presence, hurt and tiptoe-careful, that makes him edgy and odd. Damn. She takes a breath, snaps herself out of that train of thought just in time to catch the question.]
I don't know. I hope so, he's amazing. But I got the impression he's kind of a... solo act.
[A freakin' diva, actually, but she's grateful enough and likes him enough not to mind.]
I don't pay that much attention to the other departments. Is that weird?
[Is that weird, a holy vessel asks the living embodiment of a whole country while they're hunkered down on the floor of a lift in a spaceship, and she resists the urge to groan. What's weird is that she's been here long enough that she keeps forgetting it's all strange.]
A - [Solo act. That's certainly an odd way to put it, but where he'd normally question it he's sort of getting used to her way of phrasing things without feeling the need to fact check and pry too much. Usually she's saying what he thinks she's saying.] Okay.
[When she asks if it's weird he honest-to-goodness tilts his head to the side like it's a question he's never considered. Which. He hasn't. And he's about to shrug and write it off when her expression changes, and then he's curious.]
I think my gauge for weird is broken. I just... I don't know. It's trite as hell, but we're all in this together. I feel like I should be paying more attention. [A quiet sigh, and then she's not really talking about other departments anymore.] I should be doing more to help.
[Case in point: she's only now noticing that a) his hair is much shorter than she's used to seeing it, and b)]
[Well, he was going to say something along the lines of "you should be getting more sleep" but then she asks about the earring. It is about the last question he's expecting to hear from her, too, because he figured that after this long she'd noticed and decided not to comment. Apparently not. He doesn't think it's embarrassing, at all, but he does think she'll laugh at him and that's what sends him looking at the floor and clearing his throat before he looks back up.]
Yeah. Hello Kitty.
[The first part comes out reluctantly, but the second part is a neutral statement of fact. That is the hello goddamn kitty shoved through a tiny hole in his head, yes.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Said more so that she knows he heard her, because even he realizes he's doing that thing where he sinks a little too far into a spiral of thoughts and isn't paying enough attention to everything happening in the real world or whatever. But once he's done sifting through it - and back to rubbing his thumb over her knuckles without realizing, just a slow stable back-and-forth - he's got a plan and the look she gets is pretty damn businesslike.]
And ya like her.
[As a therapist, he means, because he's making the assumption that Heather is now seeing Jenna.]
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I like her a lot. She was the first person here I felt like I could trust. Can trust. She'd never repeat anything you said to her, I'm sure of it. Or judge you, anything like that.
[And yeah, somewhere there's a little spark of recognition that says "hey, Heather, you might be overselling this a little", but it's drowned out by the hope that he might see it through and get back to his old self.]
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Ain't worried about her judgin' me.
[Please. There are precious few people whose approval he cares about, and as soon as his eyes come back down to meet hers he nearly says that, too. And then he realizes it might be kind of obvious anyway, tilts his head and shrugs with that shoulder in an odd little sideways nod of concession. Worried about Heather judging him? Yes. Other than shrugging that admittance he's not sure how to say it - or rather, he is, but she wouldn't understand it and at the thought he turns his head to settle his gaze on the bike.]
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So you'll go, then. You'll see her and you'll really try.
[It's not often that she's this earnest with people. Honest, yes, but this is something else, and he brings it out in her more than anyone else she knows. Especially now, when she's hurt and worried and missing him all over again, and she wonders if he realizes -
right up until she follows his line of sight. Well, she did pretty well to hold his attention that long anyway.]
I should've done this the other way around. Said you could have the bike if you went to therapy. I could have got at least two sessions.
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[It comes out, slow and thoughtful, but not reluctant. Slow because he's thinking and because he could've sworn he already agreed to it, only to realize that the decision was only made in his head and never stated. His attention comes back to her quick enough once she starts speaking in trades, though the way he's facing has it so that he can keep an eye on both her and the bike. It's only then that the realization of how serious she's taking this hits. She's not pleading, but there's something in it that flirts with desperation and it makes him angry with himself all over again, somewhere low and hurting in his chest. He turns to her and lets go of her hand and scowls at how fucked up it is that that is now the admission of trust, the demonstration of care.]
Don't - [Right, don't tell her what to do. Inward huff, outward huff, and a glance over at the bike as his posture suddenly goes to awkward.] Maybe, but uh. I'll go. Yeah.
[This lip-chewing moment brought to you by whatever the Dutch word for chapstick is.]
Need to give ya yours.
[Her gift, that is. Though after something like a goddamned bike he's afraid she'll find his lacking.]
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[Lightly, like it's mean to be a joke. And it is, mostly, except for the tiny worry that he actually does think that, and that's what the don't means. As soon as she's said it she sort of regrets it, because if that's not what he meant it might be kind of offensive and if it is it might be kind of upsetting anyway, but. Well. It's out now. On her knee, her hand curls in on itself. It's good that he could take his hand away like that, right? Normal. Something to be glad for.
Her eyebrows raise and then lower in concern when he continues. He'd mentioned something before, but she hadn't really expected anything to happen about it, given the state he was in. This could be awkward.]
No rush.
[No, that sounds like she doesn't care. Ugh.]
I mean, I know that's gotta be hard for you right now...
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No rush, she says. As soon as she says it he jerks toward her chin-first and narrows his eyes, trying to find a way out of it or to postpone it and it's right there to take and the other part of him, the protective part, wants to shake her and tell her to get back to being a bitch to him for their own good. And he doesn't do that, but he ends up tearing a hand through his hair and spitting out one word that means ten different things, half of them contradicting one another.]
No. Quit doin' -
[What would be great is a cigarette but instead he simply gets jittery and loses that thread of thought, almost immediately. Licks his lips and sighs and goes back to the original statement.]
I need to.
[Despite the desire to get up and pace out everything he stays still and stares at her to see if she gets it, or at least some of it. He needs to, because it's one little piece involved in fixing this mess, yes, but he's not sure what else to go on.]
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You're right. Sorry. I just -
[wanted to see him happy. Not just for him to be happy, which at least would be respectable, but selfishly wanted to see it, and maybe find a moment or two to pretend everything was okay. She drags a slow breath in and a firm huff out, opens her eyes and nods at him.]
Okay. Let's do this.
[Another time she'd wink at him or pump her fist, make a joke of the weird intensity of it, but she's really not up to it. Can't paint a layer of cockiness and bravado over it, so what he gets is raw and awkward sincerity. If he needs it, then yes. Of course.]
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He breathes in and nods, shoots his hand out to grip the bike and in an effort to change the mood he shifts his focus there, too.]
Could ride it. Up.
[By that he means ride them up. Back home he can manage groceries and passengers with one hand clasped on an umbrella through rush hour traffic in the dripping rain, he's sure he can give them both a lift in a deserted ship.]
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Yeah?
[And then there's a moment where she looks from him to the bike and back again because there are a whole bunch of reasons it's a terrible idea. She doesn't even like being in a car driven by someone else, let alone being on a bike he's never ridden before and hasn't had a chance to get used to and she can think of about five ways off the top of her head it could get weird, but... fuck it. She wants to help, she wants to see him ride the bike, and no matter how unhelpful it might be right now she wants to be close to him. So she nods, gives him a lopsided smile and tweaks at his collar like it's crooked.
It isn't.]
I'd love that.
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[Though even as he grunts the reassurance she's looking at the bike and him and for whatever reason he nearly opens his mouth to brag about that one time he dodged through traffic during a snowfall with Lux and a few pairs of ice skates jamming his tires - at that same time he halfway catches himself (what was that thought even) and she reaches out. Speaks up, and it's the best thing he's heard in days. At the very least. Best not to think about it, he just sits up, stands and nearly yanks her along with his enthusiasm.
And despite how much is wrong, with everything, the idea of a bike ride with her along is enough to clear all of that to side for a fleeting moment. Bike ride. The two of them and hehasabikeholyshityesbikes. Before he knows it he's throwing a leg across and settling like it was made for him - and then he grips it with his other hand, looks up at her at the same time he realizes it was made for him - and for just that second looks like a kid in a toy shop.
Of course then it's all business and nodding to the front of him as he stands over it, not jumping up and down on the balls of his feet but that same sort of air of excited impatience is down there somewhere, despite how calm he tries to come across and the layers of stoicism he slaps over it. In this case it's harder to hide, the idea that she should be excited too colliding with his genuine joy over sitting on a bike for the first time in nearly a year. Kind of a whiplash and he knows everything he just ignored will catch up to them but he's selfish and he wants this moment.]
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She settles in front of him with a complete lack of elegance, laughing at the skippity-hop movement she has to make to do so and the fact that she's really got no idea what she's doing.]
Alright, we good?
[Am I doing this right is what she means, but she's at least temporarily pleased enough not to think on that any further and listen to all the different ways in which the answer is no.]
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[Has she ever ridden on a bike as a passenger? It'd kind of suck if she fell off.]
Don't fall off.
[Best instructions. If he wasn't so excited and impatient about trying it out he'd ask if she had. Still, just in case, he starts off slowly (for him) and that phrase about it being easy to ride a bike again is very true. And if she does slip he'll tug her to him and he probably should do that anyway, but there's the nagging worry that it'll lead to another embarrassing case where he has to work to let go. So all he does is start off, make sure she's not going anywhere, but after he thinks it's good he starts working up to a decent clip despite the fact that he'll have to slow down for the lift.]
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[The driest tone of voice, which probably does nothing to conceal the tension in the way she holds herself and doesn't know where to put her hands because she's kind of afraid she's going to fall off. It gets worse when he starts moving, though she manages not to actually suck in a breath, but he speeds up and clearly knows what he's doing - not that she ever really doubted it - and she relaxes by degrees.]
How's it feel?
[Which is a lot more dignified than do you like it do you like it huh huh huh?]
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[Except that it comes out like a bike with shitty tires is the best thing in the entire universe, not quite laughed out but his voice attempts to go up a pitch and breathless in the middle of it. Once he hears it he's torn between wishing she hadn't heard anything at all and wishing he hadn't tried to hold it back in the first place because she'd probably like to hear it.
Unless she's asking how great it is to be on a bike again, but he doesn't have words for that.]
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[She would have liked to hear it, but what she does hear is enough for that response to come out warm and affectionate. She turns her head towards him even though she's still a little too wary of this passenger deal to actually turn it far enough to see him. Wouldn't do to spoil the moment by overbalancing them.
There's a whole bunch of things she wants to say - I'm glad you like it and it's good to hear you happy and I've missed you, but what actually comes out is:]
Can you go faster?
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Faster it is.
It also gets them to the lift in record time and once they're there he finds it hard to get off of the bike. Damn.]
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You look good on there.
[He does, in a whole lot of different ways, but the ones that really matter to her are comfortable and happy. And looking ta him, for the first time in a long time, she's proud of something she's done.]
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[A little sound that slips out, has always slipped out even when he was a kid and too blindsided with the moment to clamp it down, and just like when he was a kid faced with riches it comes out the same way - taken aback and kind of flattered that anyone would want to give him something good enough for it.
It also makes him blush, every time.
Luckily the door opens as his cheeks flare and he has enough sense, still, to throw his leg back to standing and wheel it in. Once it's in he kneels, and starts pointing out all the parts and how they're put together - never letting the bike go - just attempting to shop talk his way over all of that.]
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It's easy to pretend, like this. To listen to the familiar cadence of his voice, the way his face moves when he's talking about something he knows and cares about. It's a good while before she becomes aware of the soft sort of smile she's wearing and tries to rearrange it into something neutral, something safer.]
Wish I could say I had more to do with putting it together, but I was mostly playing fetch for the materials. It's amazing what they'll let you take from engineering if you tell 'em Tony Stark sent you.
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Another blink as he processes what she's saying.]
Tony Stark, huh.
[The name's familiar and that's about it. Apparently Tony Stark has never mentioned the Gardens and that's almost all he pays attention to as far as the network goes.]
One-a the engineers?
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Then, of course, the nasty little though bubbles up that he might be okay for the most part. That it's her presence, hurt and tiptoe-careful, that makes him edgy and odd. Damn. She takes a breath, snaps herself out of that train of thought just in time to catch the question.]
I don't know. I hope so, he's amazing. But I got the impression he's kind of a... solo act.
[A freakin' diva, actually, but she's grateful enough and likes him enough not to mind.]
I don't pay that much attention to the other departments. Is that weird?
[Is that weird, a holy vessel asks the living embodiment of a whole country while they're hunkered down on the floor of a lift in a spaceship, and she resists the urge to groan. What's weird is that she's been here long enough that she keeps forgetting it's all strange.]
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[When she asks if it's weird he honest-to-goodness tilts his head to the side like it's a question he's never considered. Which. He hasn't. And he's about to shrug and write it off when her expression changes, and then he's curious.]
You think it is?
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[Case in point: she's only now noticing that a) his hair is much shorter than she's used to seeing it, and b)]
...is that an earring?
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Yeah. Hello Kitty.
[The first part comes out reluctantly, but the second part is a neutral statement of fact. That is the hello goddamn kitty shoved through a tiny hole in his head, yes.]
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