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[outofclothes]

spam.
[For most people, dying is a big problem. It tends to put a damper on their whole day. For Stark? Well, it's not quite the relief he thought it'd be (and a little more embarrassing than expected; going down to some rogue Sub Rosa was just not what he had in mind for his blaze of glory, but what can you do?), but it was on the to-do list somewhere along the way.]

[It doesn't even really faze Stark much when he finds his surroundings different from what he remembers from his last trip. Hell was on the brink of civil war. New management was always a possibility. He's annoyed, but not that distraught over the lack of his guns and knife. The na'at makes him a little sad, but he can always pick up another here. Weapons are everywhere if you know where to look.]

[And look, he does. Stark doesn't need his hand to be hold or to be told where he is even if this isn't what he was looking forward to. (And yes, he's completely aware of how fucked up that is.) The best he has, once he's on the deck, is that whoever took over the shithole has been watching a little too much Star Trek between organizing an army and overthrowing Lucifer. He hopes they didn't do something equally stupid to the arena or he's going to be pissed.]

[It's at that point, when he's fairly alone, he tries stepping into a shadow. When nothing happens, he's not all that relieved, but he's still not mad.]

voice.
[It's his cabin that makes Stark go from apathetic to not in less than a second. He would've shrugged off and forgiven being pushed off the U.S. Bank Tower compared to this. Stark knew death wasn't going to be a vacation for him, but there are some pretty clear lines that no one should have the balls enough to cross. Then again, there's always morons wherever you go.]

[Stark won't give anyone any satisfaction of an obvious reaction. You never let the other guy know he's under your skin because the second you do that, you've lost. He knows how to turn that part of his brain off and work on pure auto-pilot to close the door behind him, to sit down on the mattress, and start puzzling out the communicator. Luckily he's mastered enough of the ridiculous phone technology to figure it out.]

So, who'd like to take credit for this?

Comments

voice

[permutates]

[ New voice on the network. She's not really sure why she picks up the communicator - maybe she just wants to talk with someone.

Probably the Admiral, she thinks, as an answer to the question. Instead: ]

For what?

perma-voice

[outofclothes]

Something that if you did it, you'd jump at the chance to say so.

In other words, you don't have to worry about it.

[permutates]

If it's finding yourself here instead of dead, it's the Admiral.

[ just a guess ]

[outofclothes]

Honey, I found myself a long time ago.

But okay, I'll bite. What do you mean instead of dead and who the hell is the Admiral?

video

[patheticvillain]

I mean. I'd like to, but that wouldn't be very honest of me.

voice

[outofclothes]

Nobody likes a plagiarist.

[patheticvillain]

Plenty of people love a plagiarist as long as they don't know he is one. So, whoops, I lost my chance, I guess.

Wouldn't that be a crazy twist, though? Lost in space at the whims of a bored seventeen-year-old. Blockbuster.

[outofclothes]

A bored seventeen-year-old with no tastes in movies and a death wish.

[Cassel, this is not something you really would ever wanna take credit for. Your spleen would find its way into your eye socket.]

[ Spam-a-lama-ding-dong ]

[surfaceshine]

[It's not, exactly, that Dean is paranoid. Not really. Not so he'd call himself paranoid. Cautiously alert, he'd put it, if asked. It's just that he's talked to almost everyone on board at least once or twice, and those he hasn't he still knows their faces; this is a face he doesn't know.

He'd remember.

That plus the sheer amount of murderous new passengers has him both curious and determined to be boldly proactive; this guy doesn't look very murderous, granted, but it looks like someone did a number on him and he's still standing, more or less. Or was for a while anyway. Possibly not, if he's here now.

Whatever.

Dean is on his way up to the firing range when he sidetracks himself, tugging his dark blue buttondown back into place over his Colt in its shoulder holster, arming himself instead with an easy smile.]

Hey. What's up, buttercup?

[outofclothes]

[Stark smiles, bright and absolutely sarcastic.]

[He doesn't need to get to know this guy all that well to know his type. It's a bullshit, liar's smile he's giving, and he's packing some heat. He saw the tug to the shirt before he approached, but it's the gait that gives it away more than anything. The guy's maybe not looking for a fight, but Stark doesn't think he'd be heartbroken if he got to stop one. Fighting is sometimes a way of life for people and this guy here reeks of it.]

[Fortunately or unfortunately for him, Stark's not particularly in the mood.]

Do me a solid, buddy. Don't give me an excuse. Not today.

[surfaceshine]

[Most people would be put off by the combination, but Dean knows exactly what to do with it. He doesn't press too close, though he doesn't hesitate, either. Both hands go up, palm out, to confirm what is actually honestly the case this time: he's not looking for a fight. He wouldn't, in fact, be heartbroken if one landed in his lap, but he's not.

His smile never falters.]

Believe me, I'm all about excuses, but generally for me. And that's every day, not just today.

I just also haven't seen you around.

[outofclothes]

And now you have. Congratulations. Please be sure to tell all your friends. Name's Stark.

[Stark doesn't make friends well. Or rather, he doesn't want to very often. This is not an exception. But he's playing relatively nice compared to how he could normally.]

[ Video for the smartass ]

[andyougoleft]

Depending more or less on what this is, I'm sure there are plenty around who would like to take the credit.

Better question is who deserves the credit.

voice

[outofclothes]

You can have the first audition if you want.

voice

[andyougoleft]

That depends on how far into the play the character bites it.

[outofclothes]

That depends on you.

[A beat.]

And my mood.

video;

[some_kinda_hero]

[She waves, smile small but genuine.]

Hey, so it's Stark, right? I just saw you use that name earlier, I don't know you, sorry...though I did know a Stark before.

[Why did Tony keep showing up and then disappearing so soon?]

voice;

[outofclothes]

[A Stark. Well, good to know this isn't someone he should know. (Weirder things have happened.)]

Probably no relation.

voice;

[some_kinda_hero]

No, probably not. My name's Claire Bennet, I'm a warden here. Sort of a veteran.

[myresponsibility]

It's a lot to wrap your mind around, but I promise it all gets kinda mundane pretty fast.

[outofclothes]

[Another person to scratch off the list. Really does seem to be down to this Admiral guy.]

[Of course, Stark isn't asking after the whole kidnapping to another dimension thing. It's not the first time, so...]

When it comes to this stuff, my mind could qualify for the Olympics, kid.

[myresponsibility]

Well, then I guess you'll adjust better than some other people.

You got any questions, or did people handle all that?

[routemistress]

I see our Cassel introduced me already, love. Pop up on deck and I'll bring you a bottle and some ciggies.

I think you'll do well 'ere. This is a place where smart choices are crucial.

[outofclothes]

[Pop on up, Stark will do. How can he refuse a woman after his own heart like that? (Spoilers: he can't. He's pretty sure he'll cease to function without a semi-steady diet of cigarettes and/or alcohol.)]

[Normally, he'd just hop a shadow to get up there, but without the Key - or at least it not functioning - he has to take the long, normal way. Which to most people, isn't really all that long, but his point of view on the matter is highly skewed.]

Iris, right?

[routemistress]

[Iris is leaning on the deck railing, her silver-topped cane by her side. She's wearing a scarlet and black beaded cocktail dress and a black feather-trimmed raw silk jacket, and her fishnet stockings don't entirely hide the bandage on her thigh, but she has a smile, three packs of cocktail Sobranies and a bottle of vodka for him.]

Iris Wildthyme. Temporal adventuress, cabaret singer, righter of wrongs, wronger of rights and warden. And you're Stark, your ideas about luck and coincidence intrigue me and I might like to subscribe to your newsletter. Plus our Cassel likes you, so I'm disposed to be your friend already. Welcome aboard, petal.