(AKA your fic keeps kicking my ass into "have to write" mode.)
Gulmira never .
"You're not supposed to be here!" "They're down there, Jim." "What do you seriously think this is? Is this some sort of playground? Is this revenge??" "You should've been here a week ago." "This is a code fucking dangerous area Tony! We haven't even assessed the situation on the ground! What do you seriously think you're going to accomplish? You're going to, what, swoop in and blow up some bad guys?" "You could." "That's not how it works!!" Tony says nothing. The rockets near Rhodey's ankles cut against a thermal. "Even if you hadn't stolen military property do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in wh--" "That doesn't matter, Jim. I have to do something." "Tony..." The circles on Jim's palms flare white. "You're my friend. I don't want to have to stop you." Tony hadn't considered that, but he knows what the suit can do. He lets Rhodey speak again. "I don't want to hurt you, but... I mean, I've got experience with... you're not trained. You don't know what you're doing. You've never even flown before." Tony laughs, wildly. The sound crackles in the helmet's speakers and Rhodey wants to clutch his skull the noise is so high and horrible and desperate. "I don't know what I'm doing??" Tony thumbs a button in the cockpit and recalls Stark Industries's first bonus-liquor-cart contract. The taste of scotch. In the afterparty, Rhodey'd lost his tie. "I DESIGNED THIS JET!!"
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branchandroot
You know how we do.
Date: 2008-09-17 08:27 am (UTC)Gulmira never .
"You're not supposed to be here!"
"They're down there, Jim."
"What do you seriously think this is? Is this some sort of playground? Is this revenge??"
"You should've been here a week ago."
"This is a code fucking dangerous area Tony! We haven't even assessed the situation on the ground! What do you seriously think you're going to accomplish? You're going to, what, swoop in and blow up some bad guys?"
"You could."
"That's not how it works!!"
Tony says nothing. The rockets near Rhodey's ankles cut against a thermal.
"Even if you hadn't stolen military property do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in wh--"
"That doesn't matter, Jim. I have to do something."
"Tony..." The circles on Jim's palms flare white. "You're my friend. I don't want to have to stop you."
Tony hadn't considered that, but he knows what the suit can do. He lets Rhodey speak again.
"I don't want to hurt you, but... I mean, I've got experience with... you're not trained. You don't know what you're doing. You've never even flown before."
Tony laughs, wildly. The sound crackles in the helmet's speakers and Rhodey wants to clutch his skull the noise is so high and horrible and desperate.
"I don't know what I'm doing??"
Tony thumbs a button in the cockpit and recalls Stark Industries's first bonus-liquor-cart contract. The taste of scotch. In the afterparty, Rhodey'd lost his tie.
"I DESIGNED THIS JET!!"