10/The Houses of Stark and Wayne

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The Houses of Stark and Wayne
Date of Scene: 17 February 2020
Location: Stark Tower - Main Lobby
Synopsis: Bruce talks family, Tony talks anything but.
Cast of Characters: Tony Stark, Bruce Wayne




Tony Stark has posed:
There is a sliver of time on Tony Stark's schedule that is purposefully left blank and labeled 'Whatever Time'. When new secretaries are brought in, they're generally just given a hand waggle and an agonized expression when they ask someone to define it. The short answer being that, well, they'll know when something fits into 'Whatever Time'. Something important enough to interrupt the precious little time between meetings, Avenging, and other business. Bruce Wayne is a shoo-in for 'Whatever Time'.

<HOMER, give me a point oh-seven increase on the output there.>

Standing in the center of Stark Tower's penthouse is a suit of armor. Specifically, it is Iron Man's armor. There's something new about it. Some small tweak that has necessitated an aesthetic shift. Red and gold still abound, but the outer shell has a more organic look. Muscled, rather than angular. It walks in slow, plodding circles around the glass coffee table in the center of the lounge area.

"Adjusting, sir," comes the computerized voice of Tony's digital assistant, and the suit takes several quick steps as it notably speeds up. The suit almost trips over, the whirring servos buzzing in protest.

<Okay, okay,> Tony's augmented voice issues from the faceplate of the suit, <Drop it back down - and can we get a little mood music in here?>

In response, 'Disco 2000' by Pulp is suddenly piped in through speakers built into hidden nooks throughout the space.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Is this the new model?" Bruce's voice carries a rich and easy timbre; it's as relaxed as his stride, indifferent to punctuality or the worries and hastes of the world. The way many men and women of power are when expected to be at a certain place at a certain time. Just as Tony's 'Whatever Time' is his to fritter or spend, Bruce's 'Whenever Schedule' is often a matter of whim and preference.

"Looks like it's been spending some time in the gym. Bulking." A dark blue blazer offsets the casual dress of blue jeans, low boots, and a white shirt with crisp Oxford lapels. A discerning eye would recognize the 'casual' look is designer apparel that cost as much as a car payment.

The thick-shouldered playboy walks up to the Iron Man suit, examines it, and lifts his hand to rap the joint of his middle finger against the faceplate inquiringly. "You in this, or is this another prank like what you did at that Save the Whales fundraiser?" Bruce asks, quite jovially.

Tony Stark has posed:
<Newer,> Tony's voice answers from within the suit, one armored hand lifting to make a so-so gesture in the air, <Been feeding it creatine. Perfectly legal. I'll have no insinuations from you, Moneybags.> A pair of billionaires, but somehow Bruce is 'Moneybags'.

Bruce's question prompts the armor to stop what it's doing, turning to face him. A metallic hand is lifted to splay against the glowing reactor in the center of the breastplate, as though wounded in the heart.

<You think I wouldn't be here in person for a meeting with my best friend from Gotham who isn't - what's her name? Redhead who does the news? Vicki something? Anyway, you're breaking my heart and there's already seven grams of shrapnel in it so you're not doing me any favors. I can't believe you'd insinuate such a thing. How could I ever prank such a man as my esteemed colleague in financial splendor Bruce Wayne? Vamping. Vamp vamp vamp. Wow, has this thing always been this slow?>

It's as the suit is talking to Bruce that a secondary elevator, apparently reserved for his own use, makes a pleasant 'bing' and the door opens. Tony steps out of it in a pair of Tom Ford sunglasses (modified, of course), a Black Sabbath t-shirt, and a pair of faded but fashionably cut jeans. He strides into the room, pointing a finger towards the armor.

"You, heel," he commands, prompting the suit to stand upright and instantly become motionless - ceasing it's begging motions at Bruce, "Sorry, had something to finish up."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"I have a Google News Alert for 'This day five years ago, Tony Stark did 'blank'," Bruce remarks. He raps the suit twice on the breastplate, and walks over to give Tony a firm handshake hello. "I'm saving all of those for a retrospective. It'll be great. Weddings, funerals, maybe a tell-all book. You know. The rise and fall of the Nouveau-Riche Stark Family." It's said with an easy and insincere grin, because as much as Bruce Wayne is clearly *expected* to defend his blue-blooded heritage, he also puts no stock by it.

"I know how it goes Tony. Just... no more sending a droid to attend the Islander's game, okay?" he says, ribbing the other fellow. Bruce is a few years Tony's junior, but the way he carries himself and the lazy presence he exudes gives him an air of self-possessed command. It doesn't hurt that he's got a few inches on Tony, and keeps himself obviously in excellent physical condition. The joys of a personal trainer staff.

"You look good, Tony. Well-rested. Pepper making you actually sleep and eat like a human being?"

Tony Stark has posed:
"Don't tap him," Tony says as Bruce raps the suit on the chest, "He hates that. He'll be muttering about it all night."

He removes the sunglasses from his face, blinking a little at the sudden change of the light before tilting his head to examine them. Satisfied that there's no stray motes of dust or other smudges, he folds one arm into the collar of his t-shirt and lets them dangle there. He makes immediately for the stocked bar by the wall, stepping behind it and busying himself with glasses and bottles.

"I'm still all rise," Tony says, sucking his teeth and shaking his head, "The falls still a long way coming. That'll happen when they find the organ farm I keep in the basement in order to stay so youthful compared to stodgy old billionaires like Bruce Wayne. But watch it with that nouveau riche talk, my dad was just as Downton Abbey as yours. We can't all have great grand-ancestors who owned a stake in the Mayflower."

He sets about pouring a couple of glasses from an ornate bottle of Bowmore Scotch - the kind with a price tag well beyond the salary of most people. Pouring a couple fingers into each glass, he fetches a small silver bucket from beneath the counter and looks at Bruce: "Ice? Lemon wedge? Nyotaimori girl for extra decadence?"

He carries on talking as he waits for the answer: "No more paying to send my armor-plated stunt double to hockey games. Got it. As for looking good, well, I think I've discovered a pocket dimension where I can sleep a few extra hours every day without missing a second. That or I'm sleeping through operations meetings. How about you? Kick any sand into the face of a ninety-eight pound weakling lately, Mr. Atlas?"

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Ice, two drops of water," Bruce tells Tony politely. He settles in at the bar. When drinks are passed over, Bruce grimaces and digs a little silver mint tin out of his pocket. "But only because you're offering. Ever since I turned thirty, liquor started giving me heartburn if I drink on an empty stomach." A precription pill is popped into his mouth before Bruce accepts the glass. It's swirled once with a rotation of his wrist and he swings the thicker base of it towards Tony in an offered chiming toast.

"I keep telling you, Tony, make the time for fitness and the rest of it comes," Bruce repeats. "My chef is helping me stick to a paleo diet, I'm down at the gym every day. I ripped out the wall in my penthouse and installed a little indoor climbing trainer, you know. There's some really great rock climbing around here. Once you get into it, you'll wonder why you ever thought flying was more fun."

Bruce sips his scotch carefully. "But I guess it's different with kids around. I got a lot more serious about my health when Dick moved in. You can't convince a kid to eat his veggies if you're living on a diet of socialites, scotch, and gourmet meals."

Tony Stark has posed:
"Ice," Tony repeats, dropping a single and perfectly spherical block into the glass, "Two drops of water." A splash of spring water follows, and the glass is passed across the bar. Tony's own is left as is, resting in his hand as he leans both arms forward on the bar like he were listening to all Bruce's sorrows in some old movie.

"Kids, right," he says with a slight shake of his head, "That's one billionaire trend I'm glad didn't catch on. The Giving Pledge? I can live with that, but I shudder to think what it'd be like if everyone with a house on Central Park South was adopting orphans."

"As for climbing, Pater Warbucks, I'm not sure that's my speed. You see, when I'm in the suit and I fall from a high place I can just fly back up. I'm not sure I want to see those headlines: 'Invincible Iron Man breaks leg in pratfall.'"

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well though," he adds earnestly, picking up his glass and taking a sip from it, "You in town for very long? I've got courtside for the Knicks next week. I promise I'm evening attending in my flesh body."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"I definitely recommend 'Don't fall'," Bruce agrees with a grin. "And I can't say I was exactly *planning* on it. Dick is a great-- was," he amends, "a great kid. We hit it off. Then ..." His face clouds slightly. "Jason, you know--." He glances at his drink, momentarily introspective. "After that, every couple years, I'd just stumble onto someone who had so much potential and a system that just let them down."

Bruce glances up at Tony. "I'm sure those kids would have succeeded no matter what. But it's hard not to see a boy who's lost his parents, and not feel a little sympathy."

A laugh shakes Bruce's shoulders and he sips more scotch. "Now look at me, I've packed on five pounds and during Christmas holidays there are four boys, their girlfriends, a bunch of family friends, and I'm pretty sure some neighbors from down the road who smelled Alfred's cooking. Pretty far cry from being able to just bring in the entire Victoria's Secret troupe for a Christmas photo shoot. Family's not bad, Tony. You ought to try it some time."

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony's forehead creases slightly at the mention of Bruce's second son. He knew that story, of course, strange as it all sounded. Maybe he only knew a part of it. Either way, he stares down into his drink and lets that uncomfortable moment sail on pass like ships in the fog. Tony Stark does not do discomfort.

The mention of family only seems to drive that discomfort home a little more. He looks into the glass a second longer, turning the amber liquid in a swirl and listening to it swish. His eyes lift for a moment, lips pursing as he glances towards the door that leads towards the small reception area before the elevator. Then, a sudden motion of his arm and he downs the rest of the expensive spirit and closes his eyes - a hushed 'aaaah' escaping him as it burns its way down.

"The Victoria's Secret thing? That's more my speed. I'll leave the families to the billionaires whose other job isn't cavorting around fighting evil in a hi-tech suit. Besides, I'm terrible at remembering birthdays. Watch: HOMER, when's my birthday?"

"May the Twenty-Ninth, sir."

"See?" Tony asks, looking back towards Bruce, "I didn't know that. Spring baby."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Hey, there's a reason I leave the Board in charge of Wayne Enterpises," Bruce says, wryly. "I'm good at the shaking hands and making appearances. I've been lucky with some of the research I've backed. But the Board knows how to turn a profit if I back the wrong horse. I'm happy running the Foundation. Let you tech guys get the glory for developing the latest and greatest. If I was in charge, I'd be bankrupt in a month, I'm sure. You can only build so many light rail lines out of pocket before the cash runs out."

He finishes his drink as well and shakes his head briskly, then coughs. "Oof. Smooth," Bruce grunts, and gets to his feet. "I'm gonna leave you to it it; I know better than to interrupt you in the middle of a project. But yeah. You, me, Knicks, box seats," Bruce promises, and offers Tony another convivial handshake. "Just like the old days, yeah?"

Tony Stark has posed:
"So old days there'll be those bicycles with the oversized front wheel," Tony adds, cocking finger and thumb into a gun shape and pointing it at Bruce, "I'll see you there."

He steps out from behind the bar, plucking the sunglasses out from the neck of his t-shirt and putting them on once again. After a second, a holographic display shimmers into view around his hands and patterned across the inside of the glasses. Nearby, the suit lifts its head and comes to life, mimicking Tony's body language and actions from several feet away.

A hand raises up to pat Bruce on the shoulder, and nearby the armor raises its hand to pat an invisible pantomime Bruce of its own. Tony raises his eyebrows in mild surprise behind the glasses, "What're you, actually chiseled from marble?"

A shake of his head (the armor follows suit) and he follows Bruce towards the door with his hands in his pockets, calling out towards the secretary behind her desk as the door opens for them automatically.

"Allie, can you make sure those Knicks tickets get overnighted to Bruce's office. Thanks." Then, to Bruce, "It's been a pleasure to host Gotham royalty, as always."