Tony finds his eyes closing. It’s not a comforting tale, even if Steve has a strangely fantastic way of telling them. He’s descriptive and he’s careful, picking his words carefully as he speaks to give him that deeper, darker sort of voice that is very different from the Captain America tone. Steve’s various vocalizations, various tones, have always managed to inspire reaction in people and Tony’s no different. The call to assemble increases his pulse. Commands on the field of battle are often heeded, despite Stark’s generally combative do-it-my-way personality.
Now this tone…this tone makes him feel like he’s in that plane, running out of oxygen in his lungs, freezing, being crushed—
He’s experienced something very similar in his life, something that the oddly soothing gravel in Steve’s voice dredges up for him. The smug smile just stays on his face, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “First time I was in space-- Well, upper atmosphere, my armor froze over. Fixed that problem with a gold-titanium alloy and some extra temperature control. Thought I fixed that problem,” he clarifies. “Space is cold. So cold. It drains power, which shouldn’t be a problem, arc reactors are perpetual-- But too much cold freezes the moving parts and—” He almost snaps.
“So I was up there. I saw the missile hit the Chitauri ship. I watched the fireworks. Front row seat. But the HUD gave out. And JARVIS gave out. Everything went dark and cold-- So fast,” he half-whispers, finally opening his eyes to look over at Steve. “I didn’t have time to worry about the oxygen levels in the suit. It should have thirty minutes without power, even with the draw from the vacuum. Closed system, like a plane only better. More atmospheric control—” Evidently, drinking makes him rattle on. He’s much less poetic than Steve, that’s for sure. “So it froze up, and I’m just wearing jeans and a t-shirt inside of a metal coffin at that point. I don’t remember anything at all, just that I didn’t want to go out like a martyr…and then yeah, I really did want to go out like a martyr to make you feel bad. Shit. I couldn’t get my girlfriend on the line and I’m just thinking about you and not her as I went to my death. But hey! I just figured out what we have in common-- Floating pieces of metal in freezing temperatures can’t beat us. And we like Rhianna.”
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Date: 2018-06-20 03:44 pm (UTC)Tony finds his eyes closing. It’s not a comforting tale, even if Steve has a strangely fantastic way of telling them. He’s descriptive and he’s careful, picking his words carefully as he speaks to give him that deeper, darker sort of voice that is very different from the Captain America tone. Steve’s various vocalizations, various tones, have always managed to inspire reaction in people and Tony’s no different. The call to assemble increases his pulse. Commands on the field of battle are often heeded, despite Stark’s generally combative do-it-my-way personality.
Now this tone…this tone makes him feel like he’s in that plane, running out of oxygen in his lungs, freezing, being crushed—
He’s experienced something very similar in his life, something that the oddly soothing gravel in Steve’s voice dredges up for him. The smug smile just stays on his face, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “First time I was in space-- Well, upper atmosphere, my armor froze over. Fixed that problem with a gold-titanium alloy and some extra temperature control. Thought I fixed that problem,” he clarifies. “Space is cold. So cold. It drains power, which shouldn’t be a problem, arc reactors are perpetual-- But too much cold freezes the moving parts and—” He almost snaps.
“So I was up there. I saw the missile hit the Chitauri ship. I watched the fireworks. Front row seat. But the HUD gave out. And JARVIS gave out. Everything went dark and cold-- So fast,” he half-whispers, finally opening his eyes to look over at Steve. “I didn’t have time to worry about the oxygen levels in the suit. It should have thirty minutes without power, even with the draw from the vacuum. Closed system, like a plane only better. More atmospheric control—” Evidently, drinking makes him rattle on. He’s much less poetic than Steve, that’s for sure. “So it froze up, and I’m just wearing jeans and a t-shirt inside of a metal coffin at that point. I don’t remember anything at all, just that I didn’t want to go out like a martyr…and then yeah, I really did want to go out like a martyr to make you feel bad. Shit. I couldn’t get my girlfriend on the line and I’m just thinking about you and not her as I went to my death. But hey! I just figured out what we have in common-- Floating pieces of metal in freezing temperatures can’t beat us. And we like Rhianna.”