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

[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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry to leave you hangin like that maxy D; lol

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject