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[She glances down at her hand, gripping his arm like he's the one keeping her grounded on this earth, and then pulls away sharply like she'd just burned herself. She runs her fingertips across her palm as she makes a fist, opens it, and then repeats. She should probably tell Tony. Probably. But it's hard when she doesn't even really know how to tell herself it. It's a strange mental state of knowing something but not being able to understand it. So she starts as Hawke does, coming in from an angle that no one else could ever seem to quite understand.]

My mother and father eloped when they were quite young. It was quite a scandal, you know, the daughter of the most powerful family in Kirkwall, pregnant with the child of some lowly mage. [Her hand drops to draw a circle in the dirt.] They escaped in the middle of the night, like in some dashing novel, across the Waking Sea [A line cuts from the circle and another circle is drawn at the end] to Ferelden . To start a new life or something like that.

But, funny, it turns out that living a life on the run with a mage when you're used to luxury and servants is bit harder than my mother could have expected. Imagine that, hm? It was a cold winter that year. The coldest that Ferelden had seen in ages. And so my mother gave birth to me on the coldest, darkest day of the entire year. If my father hadn't been good at healing magic, I'm not sure she would have made it.

[There's a pause. It's funny to imagine her parents young and not made weary by the world and the hands that they were dealt. ] But when I was born I didn't cry like babies do out of the womb. I was just limp, whimpering, and ugly. Alright, all babies are ugly but perhaps I was exceptionally ugly because it makes it a better story if I am. [Everyone likes humor, right? Of course.]

Anyway, Mother didn't know if I'd survive the night. Apparently she cried and told my father she didn't want to see me in case I didn't. But I did. I survived that night. And the next. And the week and so on. A rebellion against fate or something like that. Which was fitting, my father would have been a rebel he hadn't married my mother and fucking an apostate is about the most rebellious thing Mother had ever done. They were proud. So that's how they got "Marian".

Rebellion. And I suppose I did rebel. Against everything that the Maker threw at me. Pneumonia, the Fifth Blight, the Deep Roads, enough blood mages to fill up an entire circle, murderers, Templars, a Qunari leader who stabbed me like a meat skewer. [She's not looking at him, she hasn't been looking at him, and she keeps her eyes on the dark ground.]

But here's the thing about rebellions. They either succeed. Or-[She runs her hand roughly through the dirt, destroying any trace of the drawings she had made.] are quashed. Brutally.

[ Though Tony and Hawke get on like a house on fire, that doesn't mean Tony claims to understand half of what goes on in Hawke's head.

That sort of becomes obvious again, while he listens to her ramble.

At first he assumes this is a diversion tactic, though certainly more elaborate than her usual. She could exclaim about the shitty alien weather or insult something Tony said three days ago if she wanted a quick out from his prying questions, but her story starts dragging on too long and too solemn for that to be the reason. She doesn't even bother to look at him while she does it. It's not normal.

So he doesn't interject or ask where this is going - just shuts up and listens, until she gets to the end and it seems the sad tale might be leading into something more. ]

Sounds about right. [ He watches her fingers in the dirt rather than her, lest she feel like a bug that's being pinned to a velvet sheet. ] Depending on how benevolent your oppressing overlords are, of course.

[Hawke is quiet for a few seconds. Which is unusual because it seems like the perfect place to toss back some kind of quip or insult. And she wishes she had one. But right now she's sort of in shock at the extent to which she just spilled her guts to him. Hawke doesn't do that. Her heart is held so close to her chest that sometimes even she doesn't know how to let her guard drop.

She feels... tired. Like she had thought maybe telling the truth, even if it had been nonsensical and round about, would relieve some of the anxiety tearing at her chest. Like the relief you get from nausea after vomiting. Unpleasant but ultimately better. Instead she just feels tired, numb, like when you have a bad case of the flu.

Hawke sighs and finally looks back up at him.]

Death is generally pretty brutal. Or at least that's probably why it has such a bad reputation.

[ He doesn't get it at first. It seems like a pretty generic statement, all things considered, but then why- ]

[ I suppose I did rebel.

But here's the thing about rebellions. They either succeed. Or are quashed. Brutally.

Death is generally pretty brutal.

He may be dense in a lot of places that matter, but he's never once been accused of being stupid. ]

[ He's on his feet before he really registers what he's doing or why. ]

No.

[ Everyone has a home to return to. That's what he's hyper-focused on these long months, desperately trying to unravel the secrets of the Ingress, constantly motivated by that distant possibility that they'll someday be returned to where they came from.

He's never thought too hard about what it would be like to part ways, or what might happen if someone didn't have somewhere to return - couldn't return. How do you live if you know you're already dead?

It's insane. ]

Forget it. Fuck that.

[Hawke blinks up at him like she can't imagine what's got him so upset. The idea that he's so indignant at her situation doesn't really register. Most people don't really get concerned over her as much as what she can do for him.

With raised eyebrows she cocks her head.]

Language. And yes, I've been trying to forget but it hasn't exactly been working. In case you haven't noticed we're sitting in the middle of nowhere in the dark.

[ Tony doesn't respond right away, because he's too busy pacing. Hawke might recognize it from those long afternoons spent pretending to be his body guard down in engineering, because it's the same kind of pacing he did when he was on the cusp of some breakthrough or other and felt compelled to chase it with perpetual motion.

This continues for a while before he stops in front of her, with comical abruptness. ]

How do you feel about a city loft? Kind of pricey, though it's not like you'd be paying for it, so whatever. Open bar, too, if you're willing to bartend for yourself, and the house is pretty good at taking care of the nitty-gritty like coffee-making and laundry. Unless it's dry cleaning, but I seriously doubt you own anything that requires dry cleaning, so that's not really a thing. Forget I mentioned it.

Oh, and the hot tub. I nearly forgot. It's got a color-changing LED strobe lining, that seems like exactly the kind of thing that'd entertain you.

[ Feel free to stop him anytime, otherwise he'll just keep anxiously babbling. ]

[Hawke DEFINITELY recognizes it and knows that there's no point in trying to interrupt him when he gets like this so she just watches, her eyes trailing behind his feet. That is until watching him pace gets slightly nauseating and she opens her mouth to quip just as he unleashes his torrent of thoughts on her.]

...You just said a lot of words very fast that I wouldn't make any sense if you said them slower because I don't know what any of that it is. Except the bar. I'd never say no to an open bar.

[It's a bit endearing.]

Edited 2017-06-26 16:05 (UTC)

[ Words can't do his fancy hot tub justice, so it's best to leave that one a mystery. He's a little too rattled to pick up that typical bait, anyway. ]

Great, it's all settled then. Thirty-second floor is all yours, I'll order double the housekeeping. Just keep the explosions relatively contained and we'll be problem-free. Bet you'll love New York pizza, too.

[ And as far as he's concerned - it is settled. Go back to a world where all that awaits you is death? Absolutely not. It's beyond outrageous, and he wouldn't wish it on (most) anyone - but especially not Hawke. "Dead" and "Hawke" are two concepts so far removed that putting them together makes no sense at all. ]

That's-

[She has a joke here. Right? Because it sounds like Tony is asking her to come with him back to his world of tall buildings and people who fly around in suits and there's cars everywhere. Or at least that's what she makes of New York from what he's said.

But that's crazy. Not only the idea of leaving her own behind but the idea that he would want her to come with him. To disrupt the life that he desperately wants to get back to.]

You want me... to come back with you... and live in your house? Am I putting the pieces together correctly? Sorry, I'm still learning how to speak "Tony Stark". But that's what it sounds like you're saying.

Yes? Obviously. What, just let you walk back to your doom in medieval dragon land when you could be sipping whiskey in a penthouse instead?

[ Obviously he thought this was clear as day. ]

[She gets to her feet too, finally. A little shaky, a comparison of an overly leggy baby deer isn't exactly far off. But she makes her way over to him, standing right in front of him to prevent him from pacing any further.

For a brief moment she looks hard at his face, as if trying to search out some sort of lie or catch. Finding none, she looks at his shoes and then back at up at him.]

This isn't a weird fetish thing, is it? I don't have to sleep on the end of your bed like a dog or anything. Or engage in any funny business. Not that Pepper isn't attractive and I couldn't pleasure her, but it just wouldn't be right.

[This is your chance to say no, Tony. She's waiting for it.]

First, if you talk about pleasuring Pepper again, I'm gonna have to toss you in a hexagonal crater.

Second, no. I've never engaged in funny business in my entire life.

[ Which is a blatant goddamn lie, but it doesn't matter, because Hawke will take his meaning anyway. He just looks back at her without a hint of doubt in his expression. ]

[She gets it. In fact, she raises her fist to her mouth to fight back laughter at his threat to toss her into a hexagonal crater. It's just so Tony Stark Specific. Then she catches his eyes again, staring back at her without a hint of doubt, and she feels... well, she doesn't really have a word for it, somewhere between relief and shyness and vulnerability. It's strange. It's so strange but it's nice.]

So you don't like it. And I don't like it. But I'm going to hug you now because it's what the proper thing to do in this situation is. It's really the ideal end cap I think.

[And she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes tightly. She doesn't really care if he hugs her back because hugging him, feeling his stubble against her cheek, the smell of his aftershave, and warmth of his body confirm this is actually real and not some kind of fantasy she created to get herself out of another mess she's made.

Thankfully, she doesn't linger and pulls away after only a moment.]

[ Well, he -

Hadn't prepared for this outcome, actually. Quips and bad jokes, those are easy, practically the sole language spoken between them. Anxiety attacks and mental breakdowns? Less easy, but still well-worn territory for one Tony Stark, unfortunately.

Hugs? He has no damn clue.

There's a brief moment where he's not really sure what to do or where to put his hands, before he awkwardly settles them on the back and offers a few (comforting??) back pats.

... Nailed it. ]

[Is Tony... patting her back? Yes, yes, he is.]

This is awkward.

[She announces before she pulls away and instead slings a lazy arm around his shoulders like they're just having a casual friendly conversation and nothing serious. She's fine. Well, she's going to be fine. Eventually.]

Let's promise to never do that again. Casual interactions only.

Announcing the awkwardness of a thing just makes it more awkward.

[ Learn this shit, Hawke. Still, he relaxes slightly as her arm settles around his shoulders. Back on steady, familiar territory. ]

But sure, absolutely. Let's just forget this whole night ever happened.

I guess we're just going to have to embrace being awkward.

[She keeps her grip around his shoulders firm, like there's a fear if she lets up, he'll vanish from her.]

Except the light up hot tub. I was promised that and I'm not going to forget it.

[ He doesn't pull away, or give any indication that he's itching to; he thinks of all the times Rhodey or Pepper's grounding presence has kept him from tipping back over the edge when he's particularly wound up, and while he's hardly qualified to be on the other end of that equation, he'll manage. For Hawke. ]

Fortunately for you, I've got four. Actually I might just give you one, since I know there's gonna be more barf in it than I care to contemplate.

I'll take my own hot tub then. I'll invite all my new friends over and we'll spend time there. It will be the fun hot tub. Pepper will want to spend all her time with me. Dum-E too.

[She glances down briefly at her feet, as if unsure that they're going to support her or even move when she wants them to, before taking a cautious step forward and then another. She's still unsteady but some of her confidence is coming back.]

[ Tony follows along as casually and leisurely as possible, while determining how much more he's gonna have to tip the pool boys who service the tubs. ]

Great. I'll order a pizza and make sure none of them go anywhere near Pepper's art collection. A true party.

Order us pizza too. I don't know how to order pizza. Or what pizza is but let me tell you, it's really been built up. Going to be hard to meet those standards.

But yes, bring us pizza we might let you spend some time with us. As long as you manage to act normal and don't talk about boring things like robots.

[Bit by bit, Hawke is slowly coming back to normal. There's color in her face again and her voice doesn't shake with false cheeriness.]

[ He refrains from pointing out that the hot tub itself is a robot. ]

I promise that you would not remotely like me if I acted normal.

I think I have to look long and hard at myself and commit to the fact that I think I like you no matter what.

[Pats his shoulder like that's a thing she feels sorry for him about.]

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