Door to Door Pie Salesman
Who: Ned, Jarvis, anyone in or about Tony Stark's mansion
When: Sunday night
Where: Eastern District, Tony's home
What: The Piemaker finally dives headfirst into social interaction.
The facts were these.
It had been precisely five days, 14 hours, 37 minutes and 12 seconds since the Piemaker had entered the city of Nautilus. Lost and alone, the Piemaker had not known what to expect when entering a mysterious city under mysterious force, and what he had found had not calmed him in the slightest. Between the friendly giant robots, the friendly girls changing into friendly grown women, a friendly and strangely understanding dog, and a not-so-friendly angry young man, the Piemaker had felt his insides shrivel and cower in response to the startling amount of new information he was being forced to ingest.
And like any person forced to ingest something they do not like, the Piemaker was now cursed with a chronic case of indigestion.
He had retreated, as most people do when confronted with information far too much for them to comprehend all at once, into a shell of his own making in a house that was not his own. This was not the first time the Piemaker had arrived at an unfriendly and unfamiliar home with no friends or family, but it was the first time he had made such a drastic change of address in so short a time as an adult. Familiar feelings of dread, long since left to childhood, had come bubbling up to the surface, pushed up by the indigestion caused by an unruly stomach.
Only one thing, he knew, could calm his nerve in the slightest. And so the Piemaker set off, in search of an oven, and in search of pies to bake in order to recapture that sense of home and what had been stolen from him quite abruptly.
At this very moment, the Piemaker, lost and alone and homesick, found himself traveling up the steps to a stately manor. Homes of this sort of decadence were not usually found in the Piemaker's address book, and he found himself wondering just how welcoming a welcome house could be when with each step he took towards it caused more acid reflux. Hand clenched around a bottle of stomach calming lozenges that the city had somehow provided - best not to think about it now - the Piemaker made it to the front door and knocked once.
Then knocked again.
Then wondered exactly what he was doing here, with hunched shoulders and a guilt-filled expression. And when no one answered, he reached out, and pulled the handle, opening the door in front of him, as well as opening another, entirely metaphysical door of new and exciting social interaction.
When: Sunday night
Where: Eastern District, Tony's home
What: The Piemaker finally dives headfirst into social interaction.
The facts were these.
It had been precisely five days, 14 hours, 37 minutes and 12 seconds since the Piemaker had entered the city of Nautilus. Lost and alone, the Piemaker had not known what to expect when entering a mysterious city under mysterious force, and what he had found had not calmed him in the slightest. Between the friendly giant robots, the friendly girls changing into friendly grown women, a friendly and strangely understanding dog, and a not-so-friendly angry young man, the Piemaker had felt his insides shrivel and cower in response to the startling amount of new information he was being forced to ingest.
And like any person forced to ingest something they do not like, the Piemaker was now cursed with a chronic case of indigestion.
He had retreated, as most people do when confronted with information far too much for them to comprehend all at once, into a shell of his own making in a house that was not his own. This was not the first time the Piemaker had arrived at an unfriendly and unfamiliar home with no friends or family, but it was the first time he had made such a drastic change of address in so short a time as an adult. Familiar feelings of dread, long since left to childhood, had come bubbling up to the surface, pushed up by the indigestion caused by an unruly stomach.
Only one thing, he knew, could calm his nerve in the slightest. And so the Piemaker set off, in search of an oven, and in search of pies to bake in order to recapture that sense of home and what had been stolen from him quite abruptly.
At this very moment, the Piemaker, lost and alone and homesick, found himself traveling up the steps to a stately manor. Homes of this sort of decadence were not usually found in the Piemaker's address book, and he found himself wondering just how welcoming a welcome house could be when with each step he took towards it caused more acid reflux. Hand clenched around a bottle of stomach calming lozenges that the city had somehow provided - best not to think about it now - the Piemaker made it to the front door and knocked once.
Then knocked again.
Then wondered exactly what he was doing here, with hunched shoulders and a guilt-filled expression. And when no one answered, he reached out, and pulled the handle, opening the door in front of him, as well as opening another, entirely metaphysical door of new and exciting social interaction.