Thread: Poe & Tony
Tony sat on the edge of one of the violet sofas, hunched over. His elbows were wedged against his knees and he looked as though they were supporting not only his weight but the burden of some invisible world that hung on his shoulders. He held a small cup by the rim with his fingertips, swirling the water in it into a half-hearted whirlpool as he watched a man he didn’t know investigate the foosball table.
He didn’t care that he was here because when he asked himself truthfully if there was anywhere else he’d rather be, the only answer he could come up with was a disappointing no. Stark didn’t have the energy to rage against his captures, and even if he did he might not. This strange compound he was sitting it was a hell of a lot better than the cave his last kidnappers had decided to shove him in. Maybe something good would come out of captivity this time. Or at least, like last time, something temporarily worth living for, anyway. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the universe to make sure his story ended where it began; he would help someone else escape this place, die in the process and allow his life to be simplified and sanded down into the kind of poetic cliche he hated.
It had to be the exhaustion that had him thinking like this. But he'd been stuck under this cloud of hurt and weary anger for so long now that he knew he wasn't going to be able to will his way out of it by himself. He needed something else to focus on - to build, maybe - but in the absence of tools his options were limited. Stark exhaled and looked down at the water in his hand. His eyebrows furrowed, unfurrowed, and he squinted as he looked up again to watch the stranger do another lap around the foosball table.
Very carefully he sat the cup of water on the cushioned seat beside himself. He sat back slow enough that he could almost feel his spine stacking as he straightened up, and he got to his feet. Walking with a kind of casual confidence that wouldn’t quite leave his bones even on a bad day, he approached one corner of the foosball table and rapped on the wooden frame with his knuckles.