Re: Dream: Selina & Tony
It was when she moved that he recognized her. Tony did not have the kind of imagination that lent itself to flexible dreamscapes, and the cave around them grew no warmer nor more welcoming; only he did that. His mouth relaxed, and the bitterness in his eyes smoothed into aged vinegar, absent and sour rather than sharp and defensive.
He straightened slightly in his seat, the worn cloth of the shirt making a sound like a bandaid separating as it separated from the wound in his chest. Fresh wetness seeped down the shifting planes of cotton. It didn't seem to harm him visibly, and all of his attention was on her.
"Oh," he said. "It's you." He smiled vaguely, pushing his weight off his knees and facing her straight on. The hammer slipped from his fingers and was absorbed into the fabric of the dream as he forgot its purpose. Her words set him slightly on edge, because Tony was all alone in his dream, and he didn't understand her reference.
"Well, you'd need something to be angry at me about." He wasn't sure what she was talking about, clearly. Left where? "What do you need from me?" He didn't ask her if she wanted him, he asked her what she needed, as if it was physical, monetary. His eyes flicked to the schematics on the table not far away.