OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

[avali]

OPEN RP POST

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Muselist

Open RP (smutty version)

 

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[febrile]

[Aeryn's not easily impressed. Not by the unfamiliar especially, but this-- despite the location-- is the smooth, metallic glint of machinery that feels closer to home than most anything she's seen on this planet so far. Here, in private, resting down to sit on the hood of his car, Aeryn lets her guard ease up just a touch.]

It's an infection-- an irregular one. Keeps my body from managing its own temperature.

Give it long enough and it'll go beyond anything tolerable.

[not_iron]

Uh...huh. And where do I come in? Why me? [Tony drops his jacket over the car door and then folds his arms across his chest, tilting a hip against the the highest part of the hood.

It's a fair question. This is a medical problem and Tony Stark is just about as qualified to practice medicine as he is to preach at the Sunday Mass.]

[febrile]

Your doctors can't fix this. [Which is precisely why she's asking for something that'll delay the problem. Even if they knew how-- which, given the differences in physiology they likely wouldn't-- there'd be too much interest in what she is for that to matter.

It'd be a stupid mistake.]

[not_iron]

[Tony rubs at an itch in the center of his chest that may or may not be real. It's still strange, to find nothing but skin and muscle and the hard backboard of his sternum under his shirt.]

My doctors. [One of his eyebrows pops up, but he also feels his stomach start to turn, because in a way, he's already afraid of what she's going to say.]

[febrile]

[Whether it's fortunate or unfortunate, Aeryn doesn't directly spell out the fact that she isn't from his world.

She doesn't trust him nearly that much.]

I'm dying. [There's something hard in her voice when she says it; can't be fear, Peacekeepers aren't afraid of death.] If you don't want to help, fine - make your choice. I don't have time to waste on any hangups you might have.

[not_iron]

[That moment of terrified déjà vu passes, and he's okay. He's fine--since his last time in New York, he's been jumping at shadows. But for now, his curiosity's dampened just enough to restore his focus on the thing, the project, the reason they're here.

Tony clears his throat. Then he claps his hands together, beckons her to follow, and sets off into the chaotic order of his workshop.]

JARVIS? We've got company. Break open a bottle of that Domaine Leroy, would you?

[febrile]

[She follows without complaint-- not to mention without a clue what Domaine Leroy is-- waiting a few long beats before adding in a quiet, chaste:] Thank you.

[not_iron]

Don't mention it, I do this sort of thing all the time. I...am a regular humanitarian.

[JARVIS chimes in: "Not the word I'd use, sir.". Tony doesn't ask what word he'd use, his attention honing in instead on the bottle Dummy's set out on a rare, unoccupied square foot of counter space just outside the kitchen.]

Do you drink? [He doesn't wait for an answer, he's already pouring her a glass.]

[febrile]

No. [There's no telling how her system would react to whatever's in that bottle (probably fine. probably, considering what John's capable of eating) but given what dire straits she's in, she figures it's best not to chance it.] Drink a glass for me and let's get started.

[not_iron]

[He ain't even bothered. The entire contents of the glass are down his throat almost before he's finished pouring. He's already blasted well beyond caring who else is drunk at the party. So he fills up again and then sets the glass down for a second to crack his knuckles.]

Stand still, lift your arms. I just need to have a look under the hood. [The digital grid under their feet hums, and then the sensors hone in on their body heat. With a wave of his hand, he removes himself from the analysis and a wireframe projection crawls over her body.]

[febrile]

[She does it without complaint, knowing full well that if his scanners work on more than the outer layer of her skin he'll soon understand precisely what she is. But at this point her options are exhausted; she hardly cares anymore, squinting into the bright blue light before it fades out.]

[not_iron]

[While he had his Moment earlier to get used to the idea, Tony still isn't what he'd qualify as 'prepared' when the scanner flips out on him:

Subject anatomy unrecognized. Reconfiguring...

He folds his arms, slapping a hand over the lower half of his face and dragging it down around his chin.]

I don't think you're gonna find a match, buddy.

[He meets Aeryn's gaze.]

Fine. We'll wing it. Take a picture, draw a circle around the hot spots and we'll go from there. [Then, to Aeryn:] The name 'Thor' doesn't mean anything to you, does it? Big guy, blonde, likes to talk about his enormous hammer?

[febrile]

[The expression he's wearing isn't exactly unfamiliar.

The name he sends her way, though, is. And it shows in the way she cocks a brow right back, mouth pulled off to the side in confusion.] I've heard a lot of men talk about their...hammers, but no. Can't say this one sounds like anyone I knew.

Why?

[not_iron]

Just checking. I want to be sure I'm keeping my Close Encounters straight. You realize this is going to be risky, don't you? [He's already pulled the scan up onto the array of monitors behind him, which he turns to, picks a stylus up off the desk, and starts scribbling notes.] I'm not a doctor. In your case, I don't know at least half of what I'm looking at.

[febrile]

Lucky for you I don't need you to cut me open. [And her, but that's beside the point: she's decidedly not the squeamish one here.

Aeryn settles off to the side against one of the workbenches opposite to him, arms folded, ankles loosely crossed. It's the most she can do to deny the sweat prickling just at the back of her next.] Besides, your doctors couldn't put this right if they tried. Better to hold out as long as I can for one of mine.

[Provided she ever gets that chance.]

[not_iron]

Maybe not. But I can't promise you I'm gonna get this right. [Tony turns up a corner of his mouth--a lazy shrug that doesn't quite make it to his shoulders. He can already tell a sexy, compact, localized treatment isn't going to do it, because this is more than a slight case of heatstroke. What she really needs is for somebody to put her on ice.]

What kind of time table are we talking about?