what happened to us, what happened to me [OPEN]

[myheartglows]

Who: Tony Stark [OPEN]
What: Visiting that cray cray guy.
When: Tuesday the 10th to Friday the 20th ... ish.
Where: The hospital. >:|
notes: If you want your pup to visit but they don't know Tony's there, I'm cool with them learning through an NPC grapevine or a news mag or summat. If not that, contact me and we can try working something else out.

Comments

20th. Friday

[clearlythatsme]

He hears a lot. The rumor mill is surprisingly prolific in this city, and whispers of this and that are constantly being traded in shops, streets, and scenic gatherings. One of the most intriguing was that Tony Stark had been smuggled (or spirited, or even committed, depending) into the hospital for health reasons. Those reasons varied from the mundane to the fantastic, but no matter what the speculation, Jane was going to find out for himself

OKAY LET'S DO THIS again. iluuu?

[myheartglows]

It's unlocked, and inside the room, silence save for the machinery. Tony is a tangled mess of dark hair on the pillow, lying on his side and turned away underneath a heap of hospital blankets. The only movement from him is the lift-and-fall of his breathing.

I expect you to put out for this B|

[clearlythatsme]

Jane slips in, closing the door behind himself. This is not an unfamiliar sight to him, and he puts his hands in his jacket pockets, approaching with soft steps, voice lowered.

"Tony?"

bb you know i like it when you take advantage of me~

[myheartglows]

No response.

But the rhythm of his breathing--he's not asleep.

21st

[omnomgoauld]

Ada, or rather Ba'al, since they were the same person, had been stopping by once a day since Tony was hospitalized. Most visits didn't last longer than a short exchange.

Today was different. She somehow managed to get a pizza box in the room and past nurses without being intercepted.

"Eat," she said in a very commanding tone.

[myheartglows]

Bete Noire claimed this a week for hunger. He eats well the first couple days, appetite whetted, anything that Uhura and Ada bring to the table. But then his skin fits too strange around him, not his own, and he eats less and less and less. He feels like gagging up afterward anything he puts into his mouth, which Tony thinks is a doubly cruel prank for the city to pull.

The bed has been inclined at the head, so he lies back at an angle, head hanging to one side, eyes open, expression strained. Stubble grown in again, with the hair mussed and in need of a wash, his eyes dart around the room, distracted and drawn to every flicker of shadow and light. The city is in his skin, he feels it, a constant itch and the feel of body heat all over. He shifts (squirms) against the pillows at his back

[omnomgoauld]

"No," Ada replied simply. She appeared quite at ease despite the desperate situation.

"Eat or I shall force it down you," she said and looked sharply at him. "I can assure you, it will not be pleasant." Her eyes glowed for effect.

[myheartglows]

An unhinged smirk tugs up at the corner of his mouth. "You and Tyki would've gotten along, if you ever bothered. Could've found a shared hobby in teaming up on me, you know, see who got the first scream," he answers.

Gonna be shoved into a padded room any day now. They're gonna lock it up and throw away the key. The Magistrate won't be found in time.

Tyki stopped hurting him like that--except when Tony wanted him to. But that never erased the original memory. The glass, the blood. The gold eyes above him. He thinks he almost prefers that scene to this hospital room, all too clean and white when he knows it's teeming with all the sickness Bete Noire has to offer.

Friday 13th. because obviously what Tony needs then is a priest.

[wantsblackhorse]

Coraje's rounds of the hospital continues. He's heard whispers of this man from the staff, whispers when they think no one's around and even whispers when they know he isn't. Once he asks outright and the nurse babbles with all the gossip he ever wanted to know about Ton Stark, about Iron Man, about the man going crazy.

It's not the next on his sequence, but Coraje decides he can afford to change his loose schedule a bit. So he arrives there at the door of Tony's room, hesitating an instant before choosing not to knock in case the man was asleep. Instead he quietly lets himself in, standing by the door to see if the man is in any condition to have a visitor. If Tony's asleep or not paying attention, he wouldn't even notice Coraje is there before Coraje leaves--at least not by any physical sound.

[myheartglows]

The daily visitors are the one thing Tony can use to keep track of the time--he sleeps at odd hours, off-and-on--but he's beginning to think keeping track of the time is just more depressing than not. On his side away from the door, he feels more than hears the other man there: shadows shifting, the whisper of a different mixture of sin. Not Uhura with food or Ada with some personal belongings, or even Bennett or House checking on him.

With a small, subtle lift of his head, Tony tenses up and waits for them to either go or stay; it doesn't matter which. Just as long as they don't touch him, not with how the city brushes across his skin with a chill or a literal, hot breath into his ear.

[wantsblackhorse]

(The sin, faint--or maybe new, pure almost, the sin of someone who hasn't been there long enough to settle into the city's background or be affected by its influence. Wisps of not-quite emerging lust, pride--things he wants with others, sexual, non-sexual, and things he believes he knows about himself.)

Coraje sees the faint movement, doesn't move. Instead he speaks quietly. "Senor Stark. My name is Padre Juan. If you would prefer to be alone, I can leave; but if you would like some company, a distraction, I would be honoured to stay."

when i look at that icon i see jesus!lance.

[myheartglows]

His eyes narrow at the voice, and he strains to hear it over the whispers. Something about it, save for the accent, niggles at him. He tilts his head just enough to look, and--

Oh, God, it's another one.

--plops his head back down. Just what he needs: a priestly Spanish Lance Blackthorn. Apparently the city enjoys its doubles.