thecapitol | The Very Public & Private Reunions of Tony & Max

When Max turns to look at him, she's trying really hard not to just dump all the FEELS onto a plate and serve it up for his consumption and entertainment.

"I want to say I'm sorry." she manages after a moment, "Only it's a little unclear to me what I should say it for. I don't mean like I don't know what's wrong about all of this. I mean...there's so much wrong about all of this I don't know where to start."

Well, that was terrible. But at least it's out of the way, and she's not sobbing or pleading or going all sappy-eyed on him, and that's good. Max congratulates herself internally.

The thing is, she wants Tony Stark's forgiveness.

She turns, heading for the bar, and starts putting together the drinks. She'll need to drink a lot to get drunk with her metabolism, but now seems the time to make it the old college try. Not to mention, he can't see her face, and more to the point, she doesn't have to look at his to watch him process a reaction to her words.

"You did what you had to," Tony offers, because he believes that much is true at least. "When it comes down to it, that's all there is. And for some backwards ass reason, here I stand, so you don't owe me anything. Going in, I knew the rules and the odds just as much as you did."

Maybe that's his way of saying he understands, as he watches her make her way over to the bar. The one good thing about this place: libations aplenty, and the thought of another drink is a very welcomed one, indeed.

Yeah, maybe something in him should be mad at the chick who had literally killed him. But he was there. He knew the situation and he knew the odds. If only one of them was going to make it.... after the rainfall, he single-handedly blew his shot at being that one person. If the tables had been turned, he'd have done the same. Not to her; for her.

"I'm going to train the new District 1 Tributes to the best of my ability." she says as she pours a pair of drinks. Max is pretty generous with the booze. She turns around and holds one of them out to him.

"That being said, if you win...I'll be glad."

Now she's peering at him intently, trying to read his expression, to see if the forgiveness of his tone is matched by the look in his eyes.

The truth is, she hasn't felt anything this electric since Logan. She wasn't even sure she could feel anything at all.

"What are you going to do," she asks, stepping closer, to make sure that nothing happens to this?" Her hand reaches out, and gently rests in the center of his chest, atop the tiny reactor keeping him alive.

It's a glowing target sunk right into the center of his chest, and it isn't something that he likes the whole world to know about. Back home, there was a handful of people that knew, and he felt the better for it. Here though? That whole incident in that rusted out car and that bullshit 'rain' that had melted off half his face or whatever? Anyone who was watching - and Tony knew that was a pretty damn big crowd - had seen. The world knew his vulnerable spot and if anyone was smart about it, they would take what they knew and use it against him.

Not that anyone knew much.

He planned to keep it that way.

But even so, he swallows down something akin to nerves as she approaches him. Touches him. Not even Pepper cared to get that close. Well... not there, anyway. In fact, the last person other than himself who had gotten that close had literally ripped it out of his own chest and left him to die on his own fucking couch. So maybe it makes him a little nervous, if he stops and thinks about it. Which he's trying not to do.

It's easier than he wants to admit, really.

"Hope the next arena isn't in a giant fish tank, I suppose," he shrugs. It's supposed to be a joke, but the truth of it is, he's still so used to the suit being nearby, that whatever dangers the world could throw at him he could just reflect and throw it right back. Right now, the best he has is that bizarre leather jacket Cinna'd had him try on the other day, and something tells him that wasn't going to cut it.

[[OOC: I am back! Hopefully I should be back into the swing of things again. YAY!]]

Her hand remains on his chest, but it lacks seductive grace. She's frowning at the glowing circle thoughtfully. "You're going to need to figure out environmental protection and alternate power sources..." she half murmurs to herself. "Static or hydroelectricity, maybe...some kind of oil base that can counter corrosives..." She shakes her head.

"Sorry," she says quietly. She wants to tell him she'll do what she can, but something holds her back. She has to at least try to help the next set of District 1 Tributes to win, even though she feels strongly that she owes Tony Stark a victory.

Not to mention being vaguely troubled that their little charade for the cameras, well...that chemistry came from somewhere. Here he was, in her apartment, and Logan was very, very far away.

Her hand was still on his chest, and she starts to pull it away. "I can help you." she says very quietly. "We can spar, if you want, and I can try to show you what I can. People will think...what people think, when we're together. We make it something people want to watch, and even if it bends the rules, the Capitol will allow it because the people want to see it."

Tony has never been above playing dirty, and maybe that's how the Capitol will view it if they find out.

"For now," he explains and taps at the center of his chest with a finger, the single digit drumming right between her own. "Power isn't an issue. Without... well, lets just say it's built to run a hell of a lot more than just my ticker in there, and unless something drastic happens I don't think they'll be using me to jump start a rocketship anytime soon. I could run this building for a year - give or take a week - given the proper wiring. So on my own, there isn't much danger of it just running out of juice.

"It's exposure that's the big concern. Didn't account for acid rain when I installed it, and I do live in a world where it's considered polite to bathe regularly. Six days worth of god knows what kind of gunk and gook they'll have us rolling in next time... infection is the bigger issue. Damage to the hardware. It's just thin metal casing that separates whatever elements come at me from you know... my entire thoracic cavity. But for now, the best I think I can hope for is to kick ass and take names."

The idea of a sparring partner though is... well, Max's style is certainly different. He'd hired personal trainers before, sure. And there was Happy, who was always around anyway and a trained boxer to boot, who never found it strange to be asked how to deal a massive blow to the head at 4 in the morning because Tony couldn't sleep and because Tony was also Iron Man and should probably know how to do that.

That was before a lot of things though. What Tony saw when Max moved reminded him a lot more of Natalie. Fuck. No. Natasha. Crafty little minx. Sleek and swift and stealthy and smooth. Tony wasn't really sure that he could do that. But hey. Wouldn't it surprise the hell out of everyone if he could swing-choke someone with his freakin knees!?

"So we focus on keeping it protected. Maybe hiding the glow - there's always going to be some damn idiot who doesn't do their homework." And that's an element that'll keep Tony alive.

Max steps away from him and begins to pace. It's a little caged tiger-ish. "You'll be able to kick ass. And take names. At least until you run out of bubblegum."

"I mean more than sparring." she says at last. She stops at the apex of her pacing and turns to face him. "How to survive. How to look around your environment, figure out what's there that you can use as a weapon, and use it effectively. I think it's something you've already a fundamental grasp on already."

She takes a long swig of her booze, letting the effects of the alcohol relax her. With the Capitol's treatment suppressing the more advanced aspects of her DNA, it was a lot easier for things like alcohol to effect her. She appreciated that.

"How far do you want to take things?" she asks. "With us, where the media's concerned."

"More than your average billionaire, sure, but I'm a quick study if the material is good," Tony admits and takes a long pull from his glass, letting the liquid linger on his tongue for a moment. He likes the burn. But what he says is true. He's never really had to learn how to 'rough it.' Not even when he'd been trapped in a cave for a month. Food and water still came on a tray with a knock on the door. If Max has a few tricks up her sleeve, he's an idiot to turn that knowledge down. And Tony may be many things, but an idiot isn't really one of them.

Her question though... well, that needs another drink or two before he's ready to answer. Believe it or not, public affairs are not exactly Tony's specialty. Unless you wanted to call 'hopeless train-wreck' or 'failed fiasco' a specialty. Then maybe he was.

"However far I need to, I suppose," he can't quite help keep the smirk from showing in the corner of his mouth. "Or, you know, further. If you're into that."

[OOC: Oh god, my mind went HERE.]

Her brow lifts. "What if I was?" Oh, hello.

She lets that percolate in his genius brain while she moves onto other things. If he wants her to back the train up and get specific about just what she meant, well, he can call her bluff. It was part of the game going on between them that was only three quarters for the cameras. What the other quarter was, Max hasn't figured out yet. But at the very least, like recognized like, in terms of determination.

"Look around the room." she suggests. "How many things can you find that you could potentially kill me with?"

[[OOC: HAHAHAHAHAHA! Yes. Perfect.]]

He laughs a little at that, "They say you shouldn't, but I've always enjoyed mixing business with pleasure, myself."

Taking another lingering drink, Tony then scans the room again. Not for the first time, because Tony is a scanner by default. Likes to know where everything is and how it works and what it's purpose is.

When he finally answers, it's hard to not let the smart ass in him come out. He's never been able to reign it in. "Well, given the proper amount of force, pressure, velocity or the speed in which I can splinter a picture frame to shank you, just about anything could be used I believe. Granted I'd have to actually pin you down long enough to smother you with a throw pillow, but in theory it could be done," he shrugs.

If it helps, she's grinning. She appreciates the sarcasm. Max is fairly sarcastic herself.

She steps toward him at an easy pace, speaking as she takes each step, her eyes sliding around the room casually. "Forks and knives are always advantageous. Blunt trauma on the furniture, bedroom sheets or curtains as garrottes, dishes or breakable art for their edges to cut open an artery with."

When she's close enough to him that the tips of their shoes are just touching, she tilts her head up a little so she can look him in the eye. One corner of her lips has curved upward and she not-quite-purrs, "And that's without me getting really creative."

"Bedsheets as a weapon, hm?" he quirks an eyebrow at her. "Not how I prefer to use them, but whatever works, I guess."

He's not even really trying here. She's just making it that easy.

Not that he's complaining.

She cocks her head to the side. "Aww," she says, "You having trouble concentrating, Mr. Stark? Smothering someone with a pillow isn't a bad idea, but it kind of takes forever and you do need to be certain you can keep them restrained."

For a moment, it's less about flirting. "In the arena, you'll want things to be as expedient and economical as possible in terms of your kills." She frowns faintly, and then dismisses it. "Using your environment for more than just weaponry is key. Don't think about what you can't do because of what's not there, think about what you can do with what you have available."

She starts to take a step back, though there's something faintly questioning about her expression as she studies him.

"Never," he deadpans, because oddly enough, that's true. Tony never really has trouble concentrating on anything less than ten things at once. He's listening well enough, but all in all, she's talking more about theory, and the theory of this is, well, it isn't something entirely new to him. Using what you've got, to do what you have to do. He already understands that. Use a fork to stab someone in the eyes if that's what you're given. He's pretty sure he won't have access to a fork in the arena, of course. But the idea is transferable. Tree branch. Brick. Toss sand in someones eyes and strangle them with a shoelace. Whatever. Tony has lived and breathed weaponry his whole life; that's actually the easy part. It's the survival part he's... less sure on. So he's notably more attentive when she mentions the 'more than just weaponry.'

"What?" he quirks an eyebrow at her when she takes her step away.

She pauses mid-step. "Nothing." she says, and admits a moment later, "Sorry. I've got a lot on my mind." she says dismissively.

What exactly did she invite him to her quarters for? She wasn't entirely sure anymore. Her mind is not entirely unlike his - capable of processing up to fifteen digit dial tones by sound alone at full speed. And right now she's having trouble with the fact that she brought Tony Stark here for something more than survival tips.

"Mud." she says suddenly. "Doesn't matter where sort of environment you're in - if you can mix a bit of water and dirt to get some mud, you'll have some significant multi-use material. It'll keep you cool. It'll keep the sun off you. And you may be able to use it as camo." She starts pacing again, running through different survival tips, and the way she calculates the odds of each tip's necessity is evident in her expressions and hand gestures.

"Sorry," she says suddenly. "I'm giving you Survivalist Tips and you were probably expecting...something else."

"Actually, to be quite honest - and that's kind of a big thing for me - I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe not conversations about mud. But hey. You know. Keeps the conversation fresh. Are you alright? Your pacing is making me dizzy," he's joking with her of course. Hoping that if he keeps things light she'll lighten up or whatever. He knows the signs of a racing mind, and she's pretty much sprinting around the room right now. Metaphorically speaking.

Edited (spelling fail) 2012-08-13 08:38 (UTC)

She stops when he says that, because yeah. "I'm thinking too much." she confesses, and then starts walking again, but this time straight to the bar - to pour herself a double. She drinks it, feels it flush her limbs with heat, and the muscles in her shoulders slowly relax.

"I'm revved up like an eight cylinder engine." she admits, looking over her shoulder. "Got any idea how I can fix that?"

Tony can't help but smirk at that, and drains what little remains in his glass before saying, completely straight faced, "We could always take a look under the hood."

Maybe it's a bad joke, but she stared it. He can't be held responsible.

She outright laughs. "You kinky bastard. Let's see. Spark plugs." she purrs in a mock seductive voice as she walks up to him. "Crankshaft." Nyuk nyuk. "Particle accelerators." Not necessarily mechanical, but hey, science is sexy, right? She's grinning, biting her lips and trying to keep from laughing.

Tony chuckles at that, but he won't argue. Guilty as charged.

He quirks an eyebrow, studying her as she walks. "Seems like you're switching gears just fine," he teases. "Maybe it's a heat problem."

For some reason that makes her laugh. "Believe me. You don't know from heat." She seems to consider it a private joke of her own, that turn of phrase.

She hasn't been in a heat for a long time. She suspects the gene suppression the gamemakers have forced on her is keeping it at bay, too. Well. Looks like their tinkering isn't all bad. But not enough to make up for what her life has become.

Nope. Right now she's rolling in a combination of having lost her home and everyone she loves, with a dash of having recently been through an urban apocalypse version of the Most Dangerous Game, with just a dollop of Flushed with Victory.

Poor Tony may not know what's gonna hit him.

"I still think it might be worth a look. I have an eye for this kind of thing, you know," he's losing the car analogy a bit here, but whatever. He likes to think it's true on all accounts; car talk and insinuation alike.

She can't help herself, she rolls her eyes a little. The tentativeness appears to have cured itself, so she saves the beating around the bush by getting ahold of Tony's tie with her hand and tugging at him to follow her. She'll surely find a use for it later.

He has no shame whatsoever in being lead around by his necktie by a strong and beautiful woman and the grin that he gives her makes it pretty clear that he's more than willing to play along here.

[[OOC: I am so sorry that this has taken me so long to get back to you. I have still been having a bit of issues since my hospital adventure D:]]

[OOC: One of the things I've come to love about this format is that there's no rush and very little pressure! So no worries if RL is getting in the way and I hope you are doing okay...so don't fret, alright? Mwah.]

Max is leading Tony to the bedroom. She's been ripped out of her reality, forced into a dystopian world's version of reality entertainment meeting The Most Dangerous Game, and came out of it a winner. She's smiled for the cameras, put up with the stylists, and she is a young, healthy woman with enhanced physical attributes including stamina like an Olympian. And the girl's got NEEDS.

[OOC: So yeah. Max will rock Tony's world and all that but I didn't know your vague-to-smut preferences. Or we can roll over to what happens once they've bang like bunnies (probably/possibly more than once) or we can end things in a few...whatever your pref, I'm cool. That said, I was gonna start a Max & Annie thread...you are going to get super sick of me, aren't you? ;)]

He's pretty sure that some part of him should feel more guilty than he does. He was really trying with Pepper. He really was. But there was the whole ordeal of being pulled into this whole... mess. And then he died. Actually died. Needless to say, he's feeling a bit rattled and Max isn't really helping. Or maybe she is, and maybe that's part of the problem.

Tony doesn't know, and even though Tony loves to think and problem-solve... he's never been good at the whole 'feelings' issue and where he's supposed to stand on them. So he thinks maybe it's best just not to worry about it and let himself slip into this wonderful distraction.

"Transmission seems fine," he teases, because weren't they talking about cars vaguely? "Flawless gear change."

[[OOC PT1: So true! And I am finally feeling like myself again, so that is the best! \o/ Also OOC PT2: I honestly am fine to play out whatever you like; fade-to-black or steamy fun, hahah I enjoy them both. And as for the Annie & Max thread, bring it on baby! I will never get sick of you! <3]]

She laughs, shaking her head. "Shut up." she tells him, but she's smiling, and she has a better way to occupy his mouth.

Logan Cale is very far away, and she's never going to see him again.

Max tends to be aggressive when it comes to getting what she wants, and few will pity Tony for the current position she's in. Which in short order, ends up pressing against a wall with the buttons of his exquisitely tailored shirt about to pop open.

"Yes ma'am," because this is Tony, the comment cannot help but carry a bit of snark and is delivered with a wolfish grin. But Tony is more than happy to comply and more than willing to let her take whatever it is that she wants. But that is not to say that Tony has any plans to be anything less than a completely active participant here. But so far, he's pretty certain he's liking where this is going. He slides his hands around her slender waist, a little too low to be polite and a little too rough to be gentle and pulls her even closer.

Gentle doesn't seem to be a requirement for Max. Not tonight anyway, and to be honest she doesn't seem to think affection as such, is something to be gotten from Tony Stark.

She can feel the core inserted in his chest pressed against her, and doesn't mind its discomfort. However, she does think the current ratio of clothes to no-clothes is a bit unfair once she gets his shirt off, and so she leans back a bit to take care of her own. Everything about what's going on is intense and maybe a bit fast, and hopefully Tony's the type of guy who isn't offended when a woman bites him on the neck. That's gonna leave a mark.

An amused growl escapes his throat and he's quick to move his hands to assist in the removal of... whatever it is her stylists have put her into. Some catsuit-like thing that doesn't look especially easy to get in or out of, but he's pretty sure it's worth the effort.

Self conscious isn't exactly the word, but he is glad that she already knows the reactor is there. Tony has never been shy about it but he doesn't like to parade it around either. There is a very short list of people who have actually laid their own two eyes on it and... well, he's glad he doesn't have to have some awkward "oh don't mind that" discussion. Seems like that'd be a bit of a mood killer, and quite frankly, that is about the opposite of what he wants right now.

The Very Public & Private Reunions of Tony & Max

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sorry to leave you hangin like that maxy D; lol

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