[Closed] poor little rich boy

[inebriety]

CHARACTERS: Tony Stark (inebriety) and Howard Stark (fatherofinnovention)
LOCATION: The bar
WARNINGS: Daddy issues
SUMMARY: What do you do when your father returns from the dead... again?
NOTES: n/a


[When Howard Stark walked into the room, there was no way Tony didn't notice. For all he played up being oblivious, he did pay attention. The last time he'd heard from the man, it had been to hear the message that there had been a murder. Yet here he was months later, Tony was fairly sure he wasn't seeing things. His brain tumour wasn't getting any bigger so chances of him hallucinating all of this was low. That left new arrival and he wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

He was fairly sure this wasn't even his father. He'd spoken with the other man previously and there had been enough discrepancies to figure that out. But still... this was Howard Stark and differing worlds or not this was still his father.

Tony straightens up and puts on an expression of professional politeness. He knows what he must look like to the other man, but he needs this bit of distance to pull himself together.]

What can I get you?

Comments

[fatherofinnovention]

[There's a moment-- or five, possibly-- spent staring with his hand trapped neatly in Tony's grip, slack and useless as his jaw while his brain attempts to calculate how many similarities or differences there are between them, how easy it'd be for him to lie-- and he has to be lying, because there's not a chance in hell that any future kid of his would be pissing away his hours behind the slick, polished curves of a bar when there's a ship like this all around them.

So Howard's brow drops low, creases down over his eyes to toss over a look that's nothing short of nine shades of irritated.]

Listen, buddy, I don't know what you're trying to pull with this, but I'm not buying that bushwa.

[inebriety]

[Oh.

Oh. He recognised that look. Years younger, and still that was unmistakable. That complete disapproval for any of his choices that didn't follow the set path he was expected to follow. The disbelief that any son of his would dare to slum it up.

Tony withdraws his hand and looks down ruefully. At least here his father couldn't threaten to bankrupt his little 'hobby'.]

You don't want to believe me because you can't accept the idea that any child of yours is wasting their life like this. And I'll admit, bar-tending is a long way down from CEO of Stark Industries.

[He doesn't bother elaborating on his motives. He knows there's no point.]

[fatherofinnovention]

No, I'm not buying it because it's crazy. [Which is what he's busy telling himself, anyway. Easier than the alternative. Easier than admitting the more-plausible-than-he'd-like-to-admit explanation this joker's attempting to feed him.]

Go on and tell whoever put you up to this that I'm not laughing. Not by a long shot.

[inebriety]

Do you really think it's crazy over this? [He gestures at the place around him. They were on a spaceship in another universe, implausible was relative.]

[fatherofinnovention]

I think this is about as crazy as it ought to get, pal. [And he's rubbing his hand against the edge of his coat-- subconsciously, of course, but it's a sure sign that he's attempting to distance himself from the idea as much as possible.]

Seriously, who are you?

[inebriety]

Tony. Forget the last name if it makes you uncomfortable.

[Tony is very calm for someone who's basically getting disowned.]

But I do have your brains. [He points at WALL-E who is hovering in a corner. Yes, it looks like Disney's WALL-E with an added bonus of being able to fly.] Made him out of junk I found lying around.

[He smiles brightly.]