arcreact | ( savrou ) ic contact

[ The response comes immediately, because guess who never sleeps. ]

y'know, it's okay to open it "hey, sup, i'm alive again"

[ Not that he was concerned, except that he fucking was, asshole. ]

how the hell are you locked out? the doors have biometrics

Edited 2016-11-15 01:16 (UTC)

hey im alive again

and im not even going to pretend i know what that is the thing is none of the rooms open for me anymore. so you better be there in yours because ill be there in ten minutes.

[ She's lucky he is in his room, for a refreshing change of pace. But he can't fathom why all of the doors on the Moira would suddenly decide to blacklist her credentials. ]

much better
i'll leave the door unlocked

[She might have said ten minutes but in reality it takes more than half an hour for her to get there. Waking up from cryo is alone enough to leave you feeling groggy and moody but add resurgence to that? Coming back from dead isn't nearly as confusing or intense experience as it was the first time. But the.. disoriented senses are definitely there, just like the lapses in her memory.

Now, she wishes the memory problems would be about the events before her death rather than remembering the locations on this ship. Those are the memories she'd rather be without.

For a while, she walks circles around the ship she used to know like the back of her pockets, stopping more than once trying to remember just where she was supposed to go. It's both jarring and frustrating, only souring her mood.

Hell, she almost walks past of Tony's room but luckily doesn't get too far before she realizes her mistake. She backtracks and pushes his door open, looking pale and messy with dark rings around her eyes.]

Hey. [She gives him a greeting and closes the door behind her, giving the room quick scan with her eyes.] Where's your roomie Mr. whats-his-name?

Edited (oops this was action not text) 2016-11-16 01:46 (UTC)

[ J will find Tony seated at the small desk in the corner of the room, mechanical pieces and parts strewn all over the place as he works on what looks like a complicated bundle of wiring. She'll almost certainly recognize the components from their red and gold color alone, nevermind the still mostly-assembled upper portion of the armor propped in one corner of the room.

He glances up when she finally makes her way in, focus momentarily pinning her like he's trying to see through her.

She looks like shit. ]

Who the hell knows? Working, probably. The guy's got a problem.

[ Says the hypocrite. ]

Congrats on joining us in the realm of the living.

[After living several months with Sans the rock-sock-dirt collector seeing some mess doesn't bother her. Though she does squint her eyes a little as her gaze focuses on the armor. Well, guess the men never really changed. They all needed their little hobbies.

The comment about Adrien's working habits makes her look up and raise a brow because really? J, too, had sacrificed most of her free time for work and she still knew that was nothing compared to Tony's obsession with work. Pot and kettle really.

She moves next to a table and picks up small piece from the armor, fiddling it with her fingers.]

Thanks. You miss me?

[ Tony shoots her a warning glance when she plucks up the armor component, but doesn't reach to snatch it back just yet. ]

Depends. How big will your ego inflate if I say yes?

[ Some part of him feels like she'll never let him live it down if he admits to it. ]

You're a much better conversationalist while you're alive, though, I'll give you that.

[The glare goes ignored and she starts throwing the piece in the air as she speaks.]

Mnn. So does that mean you cried when you saw that video? Or did you weep at my corpse like they do in movies? [The tease falls out flat, lacking the usual fire and energy behind it.]

Don't know if that's touching or just creepy.

I'll let you decide which option you like best — if you lose that I'll toss you out the airlock, by the way — but don't throw in any crying. That's just out of character.

[ Tony sets his tool down and pushes his chair back from the desk, arms crossed, giving her a serious once-over. ]

So what'd you lose when you came back? Door privileges?

[Now, that warning makes her stop throwing the piece around and lips curl up in to a small imitated smile.]

What, I'm not worth of a single tear? That's cold even from you.

[She gives him a lousy shrug. To be honest, she doesn't know what had been taken from her. As far she can tell she's physically fine, no missing limbs or whatsoever, which makes it all more scary to think the possibilities about losing something from inside.]

Ha, beats me. Though that would make sense, right? At least now I won't be opening any weird doors.

Weird doors including your own, apparently.

[ He gives her a momentarily suspicious look, but decides this probably isn't the play she'd go with if she were secretly trying to rob him, murder him, or convert him to a crazy husk religion or whatever.

Which means she really is unable to get in her room, which makes her technically homeless at the moment.

Which is... sad. ]

Y'know, if the doc shows up, he might get the wrong idea. Just saying.

[The suspicion is only met with an uncaring eyes before she turns her attention back to the armor piece in her hands, turning it around and inspecting it as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

Not being able to open her own door actually doesn't bother her too much. Sure, she misses her room and it's frustrating but it's not the first time she finds herself from situation alike this, no place to go and having to depend on others. Even during her first week on Moira all those months ago she spend her time in someone else's room from being afraid of the living Skeleton inside of hers.

But what bothers her more is the desire to be around someone. And well, right now Tony's the only person she has left on this stupid ship.

The mention about misunderstandings makes her scoff a little. Yeah, because obviously the first thing she'd want to do is screw after coming back from the dead. Sure. Though then again, if Adrien really were to jump into that conclusion there's no one else except herself to blame for it.]

Ha. Does that bother you? Or maybe we should make it the right idea.

[ Compelling oneself to hang around Tony Stark really is a terrible way to live, J.

Tony offers an elaborate shrug at the question, which doesn't make it seem like he actually cares one way or another, beyond giving her a hard time about it. ]

I'm flattered, but you look like you're gonna keel over at any moment. Takes the thrill out of it.

Speaking of that, maybe you should - sit, or something.

[ Her hovering over him is making him nervous, damn. ]

[The answer makes her smile more in satisfaction. While the suggestion had been mostly just joking on her part there's no denying that she wasn't sort of testing waters here. She didn't expect him to take it too seriously but she's not hearing any other requests or hints of throwing out either.]

Don't worry. You're so full of shit that the idea of kissing you scares me, might get bad taste to my mouth and all.

[She cracks right back. And when the suggestion about sitting down comes J looks briefly around the room again, examining the beds as she tries to figure out which one belongs to whom. Putting down the small armor piece she approaches the one that looks messier, like it's been slept in more than the other one, and approaches it. She brings her arms to her front and starts undressing.]

Give me a shirt.

[ Tony puts a mocking hand over his chest. ]

Your words cut like a knife, and then you demand my clothing? I'm being played, here.

[ But he's already moving to a drawer where he can pull out a simple t-shirt, which he gives a flippant toss her way. He's mostly polite enough not to oogle openly while she undresses in the middle of his room, but, well.

He's not that polite. He still looks. ]

Don't be like you don't like being bossed around by a pretty face.

[Is all what she says as she catches the shirt. The stare doesn't bother her a bit, she's used to living with others by now and lack of privacy isn't anything new, not even when she's removed her shirt and takes off her bra -- revealing a flat chest with a nearly perfect smooth skin. Save for the few ugly fresh marks from being killed by Rinzler the second time.

Nonchalantly, she picks up the shirt he gave her and pulls it on. Then she drops her trousers and steps out of them, throwing herself on his bed.]

You got any cigs?

It's certainly preferable to being bossed around by an ugly face.

[ So yeah, maybe he's just fine with it. Who knows. He quirks an eyebrow - more at the fresh scars than anything else, jesus christ - and drops back into his chair, swiveling it so that he's facing her. ]

Listen, I've got enough catastrophic health problems without adding cancer to the list. [ And honestly, he has enough unhealthy vices as it is. ] You want gum? Best I've got, this is only a two star hotel.

What does cancer have to do with it? [She blurts out, not bothering to hide her disappointment. It's not the first time she hears someone associating cigarettes with health problems. One time Miles had compared them to a rat poison while trying to get her quit.]

Also two star? Let me be judge of that in the morning.

[ Oh, god. What year is J from. ]

Uh, the part where they're full of more chemicals than the stuff powering the engines, probably? They're basically little sticks of overpriced death.

But that doesn't mean cancer. Aren't medicines also just tiny package of chemicals and whatsoever? Haven't seen people protest against pills, hm? In New York doctors even recommend smoking.

[and seriously. why is it the cigarettes that always get mocked even though there's other plenty unhealthy stuff around.] And besides, it's not like death sounds too intimidating at this point.

Edited 2016-12-08 01:33 (UTC)

I—

[ Tony opens his mouth and then... closes it. Where to begin. Where to begin. ]

Okay. First, a healthy fear of death is a good thing to cultivate, no matter how many times you've died in a bullshit place where death isn't real.

And second, are you from, what, the 1950s or something?

Well excuse me if I fail to find the death threats that frightening at the moment. But it's not like I'm looking for a airlock to jump out of. [She huffs, her irritation only growing.]

Actually, I'm from 1961. So there. [Because there is a difference!]

Edited 2016-12-17 00:16 (UTC)

[ 1961. ]

That explains...

So many things.

[Okay, the way he says it makes it sound like she's being made fun here. Her expression darkens. She grabs the pillow and angrily throws it at him.]

Oh, fuck off you asshole! You think your time is better than mine?!

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