ᛏᛟᚾᛁ ᛋᛏᚨᚱᚲ (iron) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-04-25 19:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, tony stark / iron man (mcu) |
Who: Tony Stark
When: Friday Night
Where: Dreamland
What: Rain can wash away blood, but it can't touch sins
Rating: PG-13.
It was just after midnight. That time when the city really came alive, and now her lights shimmered in the rain like a string of pearls. Beautiful, but deceptive, because from where he stood, at his window in the Starkworth Building, looking down over the sea of blinking stars, it was impossible to see the filth on the streets. But Anthony never minded that. Everyone was entitled to their illusions, and even New York could have her secrets, hidden like a run in her silk stockings. He took a step back, his attention shifting to the drops of water pooling and running down the glass and he reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull out out his silver cigarette case and a lighter engraved with initials that weren’t his. It had belonged to the Commissioner before Tony had had the chance to pocket it at the last Policeman’s Ball. He’d held onto it as a trophy; he liked the reminder of just what else he had in his pocket. He lit a smoke, only turning from the glass when the click of heels on marble floors and the faint smell of, Bellodgia perfume, told him he was about to have company. And then she was standing in the doorway, wrapped in furs and the promise of a good night. She was the kind of dame that was hard to find these days. A darling who knew how hard the world was, but who never seemed to let it get her down. She was just far more interested in getting even. They say April showers bring May flowers Anthony said, exhaling smoke with his words. Should have figured you’d turn up Her lips were as red as a ribbon wrapped around a present, her smile a sign of just how deadly whatever it was that was inside. She crossed the room to his desk, sliding paperwork out of the way as she perched on the corner. He offered her a cigarette, then he lit it. She didn’t say a word; didn’t have too, her eyes just had a way of doing all the talking for her. It didn’t take long for Anthony’s hand to slide over the dip of her waist. But she leaned away, slowing smoke over his shoulder. You remember what I told you? She whispered, her voice as slippery as the satin of her dress. She gathered her mink around her neck, clutching the fur as the stained the filter of her cigarette crimson red. That problem. Anthony smiled and shook his head. His memory was just swell, and he remembered her tale of woe just fine. But as far as he was concerned, if some thug decided to give her trouble, it wasn’t a problem. It was a mistake, and a last one. Don’t you worry about the thing, Doll. Only person that dimwit is gonna be bothering now is the fishes in the Hudson. The mink stole slipped off her shoulders, and his eyes fell to the pearls on her neck. Nothing was a price too high to paid for her happiness. She belonged to him, and so did this city. |