[ Sam Wilson? Tony's brow furrows. He saw him in the readouts at HQ too – DECEASED, just like Peter, and Vision, and Wanda, and all the countless, billions others. DECEASED, DECEASED, DECEASED- ]
That's not– [ Tony sighs, raises his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sudden, familiar annoyance shoots through his chest, and that's – somehow that's more concrete than anything else. It's Peter in front of him, isn't it? This is real.
He drops his hand from his face but keeps the other one on Peter's upper arm, fingers firmly gripped, an anchor. He thinks he hears everything the kid babbles out, but maybe not, because only half of it makes sense – or... well. Actually. That kinda just. Further proves the point, doesn't it. ]
Singularity. Summoned. Yeah, I've – they mentioned all that in the day-one orientation. But like– [ Tony waves his hand in a small circle. ] After the... [ He can't even get it out. ] You–
[ We're okay, Peter had said. Tony exhales. The part of his brain that lives to tinker, and test, to pick things apart and see how they work – it's overflowing with words, questions, demands of logic and sense in the face of the impossible. It needs to Know.
But there's also the rest of him, that hears the hesitation between Peter's words, and sees something awful written on his face. (The kid's focus, his intensity, his misty eyes.)
He's okay.
A long silence hangs over Tony. He lets go of Peter's arm and leans back in his chair. ]
You... [ He scrunches his mouth. ] You know it's full helicopter dad now, right? Or like – helicopter... sponsor? Mentor? Whatever – [ he raises his finger, looks Peter in the eye, ] you're grounded, no more space missions for you, young man, I'm putting my foot down – et cetera, et cetera. [ Pause. ] You said Wilson is here?
[ Maybe it'd be better to ask an adult the questions burning a hole through his cognitive faculties. Even if he, like, put said adult in prison that one time. ]
no subject
That's not– [ Tony sighs, raises his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sudden, familiar annoyance shoots through his chest, and that's – somehow that's more concrete than anything else. It's Peter in front of him, isn't it? This is real.
He drops his hand from his face but keeps the other one on Peter's upper arm, fingers firmly gripped, an anchor. He thinks he hears everything the kid babbles out, but maybe not, because only half of it makes sense – or... well. Actually. That kinda just. Further proves the point, doesn't it. ]
Singularity. Summoned. Yeah, I've – they mentioned all that in the day-one orientation. But like– [ Tony waves his hand in a small circle. ] After the... [ He can't even get it out. ] You–
[ We're okay, Peter had said. Tony exhales. The part of his brain that lives to tinker, and test, to pick things apart and see how they work – it's overflowing with words, questions, demands of logic and sense in the face of the impossible. It needs to Know.
But there's also the rest of him, that hears the hesitation between Peter's words, and sees something awful written on his face. (The kid's focus, his intensity, his misty eyes.)
He's okay.
A long silence hangs over Tony. He lets go of Peter's arm and leans back in his chair. ]
You... [ He scrunches his mouth. ] You know it's full helicopter dad now, right? Or like – helicopter... sponsor? Mentor? Whatever – [ he raises his finger, looks Peter in the eye, ] you're grounded, no more space missions for you, young man, I'm putting my foot down – et cetera, et cetera. [ Pause. ] You said Wilson is here?
[ Maybe it'd be better to ask an adult the questions burning a hole through his cognitive faculties. Even if he, like, put said adult in prison that one time. ]