Re: Dream: Selina & Tony
Tony looked back at her. He had dark, unremarkable eyes, and though he was handsome, he was nothing remarkable physically. It was all the personality that really got him where he needed to go, personality, will, and brains. None of that mattered right now, because yes, Tony was afraid. He was very afraid. He was afraid of the monsters beyond the door, come to kill his friend or friends (all, both, one). He was afraid of the tortures that came at their hands, the memory of it and the reality of it. He was afraid of not getting away, and he was afraid of what he had to do to get away. He was afraid for her, and afraid for himself, afraid of what he had done and even afraid of what he would do.
Tony could never escape himself, and her presence, any presence, moved that focus of existence out beyond what was in his head. And all that was in his head was creation, loneliness and terror. He'd take what he could get.
He let her go, and straightened. He was still cold and wet, the water dripping down from his head and onto his shirt, though the rest of him was dry. He gave a wet cough (half-remembered). His eyes seemed to sober in the red light. "Oh," he said. He looked around. "It's not real." He did not seem relieved. He did not sit. The fear did not abate.
A short pause.
Unconsciously, he rubbed at his arms. "A cure-all. The hotel... someone in the hotel, they made it for me. To fix anything." He flexed his fingers.