[for Peter] Rematch.

[notawastedlife]

That his house and, by extension, his workshop no longer looked like venues for an impromptu musical number was a step in the right direction. There hadn't been any right angles, and while it had been marvellous inspiration for thinking about spacetime and the curvature thereof, and ways in which that applied to the pocket universe the island was

Comments

[daretodo]

The lack of snow makes the trip a heckuva lot easier, but I've been to and from the mansion so many times over the past few months that my feet tend to take me up here whenever I have a couple hours to kill, if just to check in on Tony's progress. The stopgap, after all, is just that -- a temporary solution to a permanent problem, and the clock's never stopped ticking. When the workshop turns up surprisingly empty, though, I have to ask Jarvis for directions to make sure the man of the house is even in the house. Eventually, I find him in a room I've never been in, dressed in boxing gear I've never seen, and prepping to hit a bag that looks in far too good shape to have ever been used.

"...Santa pay a visit?"

[notawastedlife]

"Was there a Santa, this year? A suspiciously bearded 'Nick'?" Tony said, popping out the mouthguard. He didn't need a mouthguard to hit a bag, really, but he wanted to break it in. "If there was, I missed him."

[daretodo]

"I think the closest we got was some kid giving out soup," I reply with a shrug, coming into the room proper to get a close look instead of lingering in the doorway. With a nod towards the extra set of gear -- and boy, if that doesn't look tempting -- I add, "This is probably way outta his league, anyway. You, uh, box back home?"

[notawastedlife]

"I box, back home," Tony said, "I box, here. I can box. I'm a boxer. I don't look like a boxer?"

He bounced on his feet a couple of times, then switched them back and forth, not exactly like a butterfly.