these are the days when you wish your bed was already made

[kingofatlantis]

WHO: kingofatlantis and iron_liver
WHERE: Stark Headquarters
WHEN: Monday morning
WARNINGS: Extreme levels of pompous??
SUMMARY: Two massive egos try hopelessly to fit into a single room.
FORMAT: WHATEVER

Comments

[liverletdie]

Tony was minding his own business that morning. Well, minding his own business just happened to be the king at his throne, head back on his chair. To the naked, untrained eye, it would be as if he wasn't doing much of... anything, actually. Tony Stark, though, was a busy man. The simultaneous coordination of several ideas, thoughts, and actions continued in his brain, and his splayed fingers on the leather chair were like the connections to each strand of his outside connections. Iron Man above the ocean, observing. He wanted to be ready to take down Namor if absolutely necessary. Then again, Namor had left, hadn't he? He knew exactly where he was, because he'd been tracking him. One portion of his mind was on the StarkTech satellites in the sky, eye focused downwards, zeroing in on whatever caught his attention, everything that caught his attention

[kingofatlantis]

"Hmph." Namor floats inside, setting down on the floor. He crosses his arms again, sparing the briefest of glances to the man and his fancy office chair, before striding the rest of the way into the room like he owns the place.

He takes a second to dramatically inspect the place, but he's not really seeing it. His head is mostly in political mode, trying to shuffle a thousand different problems into places that will help him consolidate power. The safety of Atlantis leaves a big gaping hole in his agenda, and that makes him uncomfortable.

Which makes him angry.

He turns heel suddenly, slamming his palms down on the front side of Iron Man's desk, as though he thinks the fact that Stark is lounging around means he's not paying enough attention. He probably actually knows better. ... Probably. "We have a problem."

Suddenly now he's all about the 'we.'

[liverletdie]

The room itself is sparse, lots of minimalist and Asian overtones. He'd taken to decorating that way after Rumiko's death, and he found it suited him. The desk is bare, not even a computer in sight. Wow, what a dick.

He lifts an eyebrow to Namor, and finally focuses attention on him. He doesn't drop a thing, just another string to take hold of. There were advantages to the upgrade, although more often than not, they were mired by the sacrifices he'd made to be like this.

"Which problem? We've got people having prophetic visions, and we've got some hothead out in the Atlantic ocean destroying ships," the second, of course, is added with no lack of amusement, because Tony Stark cannot avoid a bit of snark. His lip even curls up enough into a small sardonic quirk.

[kingofatlantis]

Namor waves a dismissive hand. A pointedly dismissive hand. Get out, Stark. "That is not a problem, it's a solution." He straightens again, frowning. He didn't come here to talk about that particular issue; certainly not to let Stark try and talk him out of it. Namor feels that Tony is just lucky he has extremely graciously decided not to deck him right in the smirk.

"The visions, obviously. Whatever the abomination is, it's coming from the ocean." Oh boy, is the next part difficult. He inhales and straightens back up, glancing away to glare at the windows. Somehow, this is their fault. "We can't find it."

Breathe.

Okay. "Orin believes it to be magical in nature."