An Unexpected Guest
Roleplaying Log: An Unexpected Guest
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

At the X-mansion there has been much talk and discussion of late of what to do about the new law. Into the middle of all of this conversation the one thing they don't need is one of the faces of the new law showing up for a chat.

Which is of course /why/ Tony Stark chooses to do it right now. Because he never does what people want. Ever.

But really. He's /helping/.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: January 18, 2019
IC Location: Xavier Institute, Westchester
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 19 Jan 2019 07:38
Rating & Warnings:
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. A quiet little school out in the middle of nowhere. Secluded away from the hustle and bustle and the bright lights of New York City(Which takes up 90 percent of the state of New York as everyone knows). The sun is inching towards the horizion. The birds are just settling down for sleep. The well kept lawns begin to slowly have their colors fade as they are kissed by the blanket of night…

…which is about when the squeal of tires on asphalt and the…well…it isn't exactly a roar of an engine. It is more of a hum. A very loud and aggressive hum but definitely a hum of an electric engine closes in on the front gates and drive of the School itself.

It is a subtle car(COMPARED TO SOME I mean it isn't even red and gold). Sleek and sliver that pulls into the drive with a corner that would do an Indy racer proud.

…it /is/ a good thing that Tony raced his own cars isn't it or that could have ended poorly. Ah well. The night is still young, it could totally still end poorly.

Sensors of course go off at this. This isn't a sanctioned car, or possibly a wanted visitor that coasts to a stop on the driveway of the school, causing…once again…a scene as he slides in to a stop.

He isn't trying to be subtle. He wants people to know he's there. He's less likely to get shot that way.

…most likely of course.

"…so. You're telling me you could have made that trip like…fifteen times in the time it took me to race here?" This to his partner in crime for the evening.

Though really. Tony Stark's only crime is looking /this/ good.

The door to the supercar gullwings open as the man steps out, suit, sunglasses. Looking like he is worth a few billion, because he is.

"…alright. So…" Half to himself and half to his young ward. "…five will get me ten the doors totally open before I even knock." A longer pause. "And if we're lucky, they won't just throw us right out."

* * *

Don't take that bet. Because it's hard to beat when there's a telepath AND sensors. There's a door open somewhere, indeed, and a Psylocke is on the loose. The kids may have been sent to another campus, but that doesn't mean she's not on alert. Purple hair is loose over a simple black sweater, jeans, and sneakers. She doesn't do the high fashion diva stuff when she's not in the city.

There's a purple glow, light forming the shape of a crossbow and arrow, as she takes aim. "Give me one good reason not to shoot you, Stark. I mean really, you could have just called."

* * *

"Mmm, multiply that by fifteen maybe," said ward replies with a grin. He's just guessing, really, but he's pretty sure he can make the trip way faster than a mere fifteen times.

Bart Allen hops out of the passenger side of the car, tugging his blazer into place over….well yes, he's apparently wearing a red hooded sweatshirt under it. Hey, it's chilly out! Other than that he looks mostly presentable? Except for the sneakers. Okay, he's been starting to experiment with how many lines he can push when it comes to business formalities.

"Wait, why would they throw us out?" he asks Tony, amber eyes blinking.

The other voice that speaks up has him turning his head back towards the doors.

"Wow. Do they greet everyone like this or just you?" he asks, smile quirking just a touch lopsidedly. Worried? Nope, he doesn't look it in the least.

* * *

Meggan had followed Betsy out the doorway and towards the new arrival, and from her clothing she was probably watching television. By clothing here please read, literally, a snuggy in robin's egg blue which is currently trailing behind her like some sort of choral robe. Meggan's hair is perfect because she controlled its shape upon hearing it was likely someone affluent coming in alone and when she sees a spark of purple she cries out, "No!! Betsy!!"

She lunges forwards with immediate intent to embrace Betsy with maximum legal enthusiasm and, perhaps not incidentally, make her not point her crossbow at Tony Stark or his love child.

There would be more to this but Meggan probably panicked a little, which would be crystalline clear to everyone within the immediate zip code. (Well, that's an exaggeration, but it's defintely feel-able.)

* * *

It's a decidedly less spectacular-looking ride that Logan maintains or modifies this particular day, a vintage World War 2 Harley that's more custom than stock parts at this point by a fair margin. It puts him on de facto guard duty near the front drive when Stark rolls up in his flashy wheels with his faster sidekick, and the stocky Canuck wipes his greasy hands with a plain white rag that's soon more black than white as he props one shoulder against an open door to the garage bay.

The Wolverine doesn't immediately intercede more than that— even when Betsy takes umbrage to their visitor(s?). Instead, inscrutable, dark eyes flecked with various shades of green and gold study the newcomers thoughtfully as he works to get the last of the stain off one particularly uncooperative thumb. The Canucklehead is dressed simply: worn denim, old leather boots with steel toes and soft soles, and a flannel in red and black patterns. A wide-brimmed hat of black felt, western in styling, joins a simple silver and topaz bolo tie in completing the archaic ensemble.

As he lurks, and leans wordlessly, the stout mutant lights up a half-finished cigar and puffs pensively, eyeing Stark and Bart over the burning cherry. Assuming he catches an eye, Logan gives the simplest of greetings: he nods, non-committally.

* * *

A lot of the most egregious instances of high tech around the Xavier Institute have been moved north courtesy of registration, but you don't need alien tech to have a perfectly good security system in place that picks up things like 'the arrival of Tony Stark.'

Warren splits his time rather evenly between the city and the Institute — it's only about an hour's flight for him — and so he happens to be present when Tony rolls right up onto the drive. Putting aside his tablet, he makes his way to the front doors, though he was on the second floor and does not get there before there is a certain altercation at the doors.

His distinct figure appears in the doorway, framed by the light spilling out from the foyer. "Powers off and let's calm down," he says, with a slightly raised hand. His wings fan a little, an instinctive response to the apparent tension in the air. "This is a school."

His attention turns towards Tony, and there's a hint of aggravation that is really just 'aggravation at having to look responsible in front of Stark.' "Tony Stark," he says, still to the gathered at large even as he specifically eyes the so-named man. For a moment the atmosphere feels like two tomcats shoved together in a room. Can two such-similar men coexist within 20 paces of each other? "…has never called ahead to anything in his life, if he could help it."

His tone is admonishing, but he can't quite keep back the faint smile. "I'm hurt, Tony. You don't call, you don't write. I'm bereft. Now this?" There is a beat, and his demeanor sobers. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

Rocky was doing what Rocky does, and that is playing video games, and eating doritos. The guy is really a walking stereotype like that. But of course all the commotion and stuff, gets him to show up at the front door, and well see what the fuss is about. "You guys are interrupting video game time you know."

The large rock mutant is wearing well a T-Shirt that just says, 'Tell me what needs to be punched' on it, and of course it has some dorito dust stains of course. And well there is a pair of blue jeans as well. "Hey do I get to punch him? It's been a few days since I got to punch something." The simple things in life do tend to make some people happy you know. "If I can't punch him, can I punch the car?"

* * *

Apparently the mansion is quiet enough now a days that a single car with two people in it is enough to draw a large crowd, even if they aren't here to kill anyone. It's almost enough to make the large Russian man darkening the doorway wish for the good ol' days when it would take an alien invasion or giant killer robot or at least a time traveler to make everyone pour out of the doors. But these days with most of the younger students gone and tensions running high it's not a surprise that a simple perimeter alarm is enough to cause people to be on high alert.

Stepping out into the light of the courtyard, Piotr reveals that he too is enveloped in the warm loving embrace of a snuggie. A hard to miss bright red snuggie that possibly has been custom made cleaves to his massive frame. Some might be embarrassed to be seen in such a thing, but this is a man whose uniform once consisted of tiny red shorts, he is immune to such things. He looks first at Psylocke and asks, "Is this not the actual Tony Stark? Or have we already drawn stricter battle lines than is prudent?"

And then noticing Meggan in her matching outfit, he asides to her, "You were correct Meggan, it is like wearing a hug."

* * *

The Institute is a breath of air when all the world knows your face — and, far more recently, have declared it the graven image for the exposed mutant pariah.

But here finds Alison Blaire, taking refuge to do similar work of her own — until a call took her away, and a long look at the screen had her disappear to a side office to receive it in private.

Over the past hour, she's paced a new Grand Canyon into the floor, one hand nursing her forehead — willing back a would-be migraine as she argues with her lawyer back in London.

Or was — until commotion seeps through the door, and her paranoia has her ending the call as quickly as it began. Is this the day the Feds come and blackbag everyone still attending the Institute?

Nothing so much as that.

Stepping in from a hall, the famous Dazzler is in attendance, dressed down from her usual performance flair, and — looking immediately put upon. Taking in the scene, and that psychic crossbow, she hangs back, pressing fingers to the bridge of her nose in that universal god save us all. Let's absolutely threaten guests with our mutant powers in the school we're telling everyone hasn't been training mutant child soldiers.

"We don't punch anything, because we are civilized mutants that obey the laws of society," Alison answers patiently. She's mostly grimacing at the idea that Warren and Tony are on a first name basis. Of course. "All are welcome to the Institute."
She double-takes. Is Rasputin in a snuggie?!

* * *

There is a smirk towards Bart as Stark just straightens his suit. "I've been thrown out of a lot of places, sometimes they don't even need a reason." A smirk at that before the doors open and…

"Betsy!" And a crossbow. Again the aside towards Bart. "…they haven't shot at me yet, so I'm going to say just me."

But then Meggan is there to hug it out, and some one short, hairy, and smoky is ambling up. There if a flash of a grin, a nod towards Logan even as JARVIS updates names and faces of known X-men and X-friends in the tiny screen on his glasses.

…he really should get Bart one of those. Then just link it with the Speed Force with that one converter system and…

Focus Tony. Focus.

"If I have a vote…I vote for no punching. That car costs more than some battleships."

A smirk crosses his face as he sees who else appears in the doors. "Warren Worthington. As I live and breathe." Up he strolls, waving Bart forwards. "Yeah well. I've been busy being nearly dead. I sent a fruit basket." A pause before that smirk turns into a grin and he reaches out to clasp Warren's hand. A hand shake. Possibly a complicated /secret/ handshake.

…and anyone that knows Tony Stark knows that he next to /never/ shakes hands.

"…oh my god how did you get Metalhead back there in a snuggie." Momentairly distracted by Piotr and then Alison showing up. Peering around Warren at the Dazzler, then Meggan, and the Betsy before quirking an eyebrow up and the be-winged figure.

He doesn't say anything about that questioning brow though, instead responding to Warren's more serious question. "Well…I thought it was time I dropped by to talk about…things." A glance back. "And this is the new owner of Stark Industries. Bart Allen. I figured coordinating a few things might be in order…" A smirk. "…and you know how I love entrences."

A beatpause.

"Wait…hold on…are you…" Now he squints towards Warren. "…being /responsible/." A look towards Piotr. "Him? Really?"

* * *

"When I want orders or judgement, I'll ask my brother." Is Betsy's dry, British reply, to most of the goings on, even as she grins at Tony. "Stark is not likely to take it as a serious threat. I mean…after all, I could have thrown him off a balcony." She pats Meggan with one hand. "It's all right, Meggan. Swear. Tony and I are.. acquainted"

The bow disappears, before she's rolling violet eyes. "Of course you know Warren. It makes perfect sense." No, that's not a compliment to either of them. She will hug Meggan, a hand stroking blonde hair before she glances over at Logan. "Keeping busy, I see?"

* * *

Bart shoves his hands into his pockets, watching the unfolding of those who've come to greet them much like one would a show. There's definitely a lot of interesting people here, and their interactions remind him a bit of his own teammates here and there.

"Whoa, I didn't know they made those in that size!" he says, his attention instantly upon the snuggie-enclosed Rasputin, if just for a moment. Rockslide gets a look in apology. "Aw man, sorry about interrupting game time. I know that always sucks." See, something he can bond over! "Please don't punch the car though, it's the fastest one I've gotten to take a ride in so far." Also it looks pretty cool, even if he can still run circles around it.

He watches as Tony steps forward to greet Warren and the others. Finding himself being introduced, Bart steps forward with an almost shy grin as he slips a hand from his pocket to give a two-fingered salute. "'lo."

* * *

Warren arises, and Logan is there, and oh there's Alison, and aha! PIOTR. The man who's on Meggan's level. Her /snuggy buddy/.

"It really is," Meggan says to Piotr.

Tony speaks and Meggan tells him, "I just got one that would fit? They're comfortable. I'd offer you one but it doesn't seem the time."

Tony is then talking to Warren which makes sense to Meggan, and lets her focus on Psylocke. "… I don't get it," Meggan tells her, finally. The half-restrained radiating panic note from her fades out, and she exhales. Adjusting her snuggy's top reaches Picard-style, she tells Betsy, "I take these things seriously, you know, I can't keep track of everybody. There's no updater on everyone's feelings on the white board, it's just chores."

A beat passes. She looks round, disentangling slightly from Betsy to try and smile apologetically at Tony, say "hullo!" to Bart, and then ask Warren, "Should we put the kettle on or something? I mean I'm fine, but, it is January out here."

* * *

Tossing the rag back over to his toolkit and bike, Logan wanders out into the drive towards the others. He doesn't offer polite introductions, doesn't give his name or rank or serial number— he just offers another nod, a soft grunt, and lingers on the periphery. There's nothing he particularly feels the need to stick his nose into, just now— as expected, the others are keener on the diplomatic give and take, and feeding the runty mutant plenty of information just on those myriad reactions.

He's heard of Tony Stark, of course— he hasn't been living under a rock. But Wolverine reserves judgement, and settles for observation. "Yup." He offers simply Betsy's way, scanning over the assemblage with stoic consideration. They were just talking about maintaining a low key, amicable posture— but no plan survives first contact with Tony Stark.

"Guessin' there's some business here beyond showin' off the wheels." And don't get him wrong— Wolverine likes the wheels. "Anyone wants my opinion, we move the posturin' somewhere subtler and talk this out. Maybe pop some brews." Because that's a good answer for -any- congregation. He returns a languid salute to Bart, and despite the gruff, distant facade…the whole thing brings a bit of a quirk to Logan's mouth, at least one corner thereof. People always make things so -complicated-.

* * *

"It is very comfortable.."

Piotr semi-explains exactly how he came about to be ensconced in fuzzy red faux-velvety goodness. For those closer to him they might notice that big Pete is looking a little rough and red nosed, though not quite matching the brilliant red of his snuggie, it's obvious to most he's been drinking. So Wolverine's suggestion is met with a slightly too loud reply.

"Da. I agree with Logan."

He turns starts taking awkward snuggie bound steps towards the kitchen. He could probably use a break from the vodka he's been drinking. He looks back towards Meggan and says, "Tea is good idea also." He beckons her to join him in getting these type of things settle while Tony and Warren continue their odd bonding.

"Rockslam" Nope, that's not right, but close. He beckons to younger student, "Come is better to offer guests beers then punches." He thinks about it and ammends, "Less fun, but better as being for hosts."

* * *

Tony's greeting is met with the kind of wide grin that connotes long association, and Warren clasps the other man's hand in what is definitely an extensive secret handshake. "I'm pretty sure I sent a fruit basket while you were dead," he says, "though no doubt it was buried under the gifts of your other admirers."

There is a slight blink at 'Bart Allen, new owner of Stark Industries,' but Warren doesn't react beyond a flickering of his lashes. You learn to control your reactions fast when one uncertain look can make shareholders start selling. He does give Bart a rather long look, his gaze aquiline, even as he offers a hand to Tony's ward. "A pleasure."

His gaze tracks towards Betsy at her remark about orders and judgment. "And what about advice, Elizabeth?" is Warren's mild answer. "I have the interests of the school in mind. In an atmosphere like this, less is more. There are eyes everywhere."

He nods towards Logan, who makes a similar point in his gruff way. "Come in to the front sitting room," he says, to those attendant. "Whatever you have to discuss can be discussed there." Not too far into the Institute itself — but still private. He tilts a smile towards Meggan, at her offer. "That'd be lovely, Meggan, but really, just get an underclassman to run and fetch it for you. It will build their character, and you should be present."

He steps back out of the doorway and turns to lead people in to said room. His wings droop slightly at the remark of him being 'responsible,' however. "Please don't remind me. It's hard enough as it is. And as I recall, you've been responsible yourself lately."

* * *

Rockslam, okay that is totally going to be his new name, it has a nice ring to it, sighs at Piotr, "Fine. But when this goes south, I call dibs on throwing the car." And it's going to go south, everyone knows it. "But I'm not old enough to drink yet, or am I allowed? Cause I've always wanted to try whiskey!" YES, DRUNK ROCK DUDE!

There is a shrug at Bart from it, "I'm used to video game time getting interrupted. At least this time the place isn't on fire, or getting blown up, yet." It will happen eventually. But well not yet. "If I don't get to chuck the car, will I get to hook up the video games to the big screen TV?"

* * *

Psylocke rolls her eyes at Warren, and there may be a muttering in Japanese. "Funny how Stark is the only one who took it as the joke. At least the intended one got."

A brow lifts as she moves to head inside with everyone else. "You're not my brother, so nix the Elizabeth. " There's a widening of violet eyes, an innocent expression as she bats lashes.

"Meggan, love, you're assuming I've got real feelings." She smiles brillantly at the blonde, winking once before she will cast a look back towards the gates. She does have feelings, but she prefer to leave those as hidden as possible.

"Speaking of whiskey… can I pour you some, Stark? Because that will definitely be my beverage of choice for this."

* * *

Stark makes a face at that. "Not by choice," He mutters towards Warren as he heads towards the door with a smirk towards the X-man. "And yeah, the Tamochans from the other dimension kinda dominated all the gifts with this statue thing. I'm told it was great." Is he being serious?

…well it is Tony, so its hard to tell either way.

A smirk is angled towards Betsy. "Everyone thought we were going to hate each other in college, so we did the opposite. Its a habit." Then a grin is tossed towards Logan. "I like this suggestion. Drinks always make things easier. And whiskey would be amazing…" He's waving Bart forwards though a glance and a grin is angled towards Rockslide. "…I'll buy you a big screen. Possibly a holoprojector. I mean I interrupted you guys least I could do."

A pause again. "So! Business it is," A shake of us head. "I still hate being responsible, for the record." He glances back towards Bart a second with a 'you're doing fine, kid' grin on his face. "I got rid of Stark Industries…official announcement coming soon and all that." A glance at Warren and then towards the rest of the crew there. "Pepper is still running it, Warren. So no need to sell off all your shares."

* * *

With the suggestions that they head somewhere indoors to commence with business, Bart leaves the ultimate decision and movement to do so to the more senior representatives gathered. His thoughts are colored with interesting caricatures of those gathered, but he gives his head a slight shake as though to physically dismiss the image of Piotr the giant red teddy bear as Warren steps over to greet him in turn.

"Pleasure to meet you too, Mister Worthington," Bart says as he clasps the other's offered hand. He shakes it distractedly as another thought pops in his head. "-oh! Now I remember. I saw some of you at Luke's that one night," he says, beaming.

Whether they remember the young barback ghosting about the premises during Lady's Night is another thing, especially given everything that had gone on. Which might be a weird position for someone who's been named Stark Industries' new owner to be.

Bart peers over at Rockslide almost too curiously. "Whoa, this place get blown up on a regular basis?" he asks, hoping he doesn't sound terribly eager for the possibility of some action. Honestly though, he'd prefer action to business meetings, but the business stuff is important. So he's been told.

With Tony waving him along, he starts forward, perhaps a little relieved at the look he's given by the billionaire. The one without wings. TOO MANY RICH PEOPLE HERE.

* * *

Turning back to Rockslide, Piotr frowns and shakes his head, ever the responsible older brother type. "Nyet, no whiskey." A beat. "You can have beer. That does not count as drinking." Old Russian habits die hard, even if he has spent most of his adult life in America, or outer space. He just nods as if this is a reasonable compromise and heads towards the kitchen to pluck a case of beer from one of the multiple fridges. He fiddles about setting a kettle on the stove and rummaging for tea before looking back to Meggan for some help in that regard.

* * *

Bart's mention of Luke's draws a brief blank in Warren's blue eyes, before recollection hits visibly. "I remember," he says, though it does cause him to eye Bart with a little more interest.

As for the Japanese going on? "Wakarimasen," is Warren's light reaction, which does not actually clarify whether he understood. His head tilts at the subsequent innocent lash-batting and the correction. "No? And what do you prefer?"

A more private setting is called for, regardless, as Warren herds Tony mindfully to 'somewhere more private.' Though admittedly, the car can't be helped at this point: a few students are already gawking out the second-story windows at it. A faint smile of reminisce crosses Warren's features as Stark expounds on how they know one another. "Tony owes me for at least fifty percent of the girls he picked up," he says, which is probably a bold claim. He catches Alison grimacing at the very thought, and winces. "Okay, maybe forty percent. To be fair, it was well repaid — "

This is mercifully cut off by their arrival in one of the sitting rooms for the reception of just such guests as these. Others are free to sit: Warren stands, out of habit. "Oh good," he says, of the news he won't have to jettison all his Stark shares. "As it's quite a lot, and that would be a headache."

There is a brief pause, his gaze flickering towards Logan as if to wordlessly assess his read on this situation, before he glances back at Tony. "Did you turn it over because of registration?" he asks baldly. "You know and we know they're pinning you up as the poster boy for it. It begs the question why you are here."

* * *

Psylocke lets out a sound that is a cross of amusement and anything but. It's interesting to hear. "I'll go hunt up the good whiskey, Stark. I'll let you talk to them." She knows Tony's feelings on registration as of pretty recently. The supermodel will simply move and vanish. Ninja style!

* * *

"Fine beer it is. But I want a real beer, none of that light stuff that they say is beer!" How does he know what real beer is, well that is a secret that he will never tell. "Fine I won't touch the whiskey." Yet, he'll find the secret stash of that or something. "I can I just go back to my games, and let the adults talk and stuff." Okay time to go and play some Madden or something like that.

* * *

"We were the best team," Stark's flashing grin coming on the heels of Warren's comment even as he slides into the sitting room. Looking around for a chair he takes a load off as he looks around, the whiskey is accepted as he relaxes back against the chair there with a smirk towards Rockslide for a moment as the younger mutant ambles off.

"I totally will get him a big screen." He agrees. "…and yeah." His eyes cut towards Warren. "Because of Registration. I already told Bart there what happened, and trust me the whole poster child thing was not my idea /or/ with my permission."

He frowns though for a moment before he shakes his head. "So what happened is that I had half of the State government, some of the Feds, and a couple of rivals ready to pounce on me and my company if I didn't register. So…." A smirk. "…I did what they didn't expect."

He takes a sip of the whiskey. "Opened a new company in Metropolis. Just to mess with them of course, and to get some more pull with the Federal government. But…I'm angling to throw money at /stopping/ registration." A glance at Bart. "I'm pretty sure Bart here feels the same. So…cordinating is a thing, right?" A pause. "And I didn't want you all to think I actally was /being/ a poster child."

* * *

Perhaps of no surprise to Tony, Bart will choose to remain standing. At least that way he can wander a bit while he listens. He'd be tapping up a tattoo if he sat down, restless as he tends to get.

He might cast the slightest of longing looks after Rockslide. Playing video games is way more up his alley than business conversation, even if this is a different angle of business than the meetings he's been having to sit through under Pepper's guidance when it comes to Stark Industries relations.

At mention of his name, the speedster nods, making a slight face just with the subject alone. The Registration's never been a fun topic of discussion, but there's certainly not going to be an end to it any time soon.

* * *

For her part, Alison Blaire has remained a little stage-left, at the wings of this interaction, and quiet.

The Dazzler's showy fanfare has lapsed, and the woman beneath looks, if not her familiarity, astoundingly all-American normal. Part of her silently rebukes herself for it — she should be one of the forward faces of the Institute, but, right now — after that phonecall — she just can't summon up the will.

The mutant known for her synesthesic light shows is looking a little spiritually dull at the corners.

Still, this is work, and as the conversation carries on, she follows — overseeing it, left to haunt near the doorway, leaning comfortably in place, her arms crossed.

"Rachel seems to like you," she answers Tony. A pause, and some quiet wryness, coupled with a humoured smile: "Tolerate you." Alison's done some due diiligence of reading old mission reports — all the boring minutiae that few beyond Scott Summers would give up a weekend to study. "It makes you a friend, and we like to think the best of our friends."

* * *

"Oh excuse me," Meggan says to Warren as she slips in.

Meggan took a minute past the appointed time because, first, she put the kettle on, and second, she put on some actual clothes. It is kind of rumpled and basic, a pencil-esque skirt and a white blouse that are almost certainly rooted in a stock of uniform clothing for all the people who blast out of their clothing on the regular. BUT! SHE TRIED. And isn't that all Jesus can ask for you?

She also has a teapot with a couple of cups precariously stacked on top. This might become ridiculous except she sets it down on a little piece of furniture whose purpose is in fact exactly that. Exhaling with force, she pours a cup.

"Why would you need to register?" Meggan asks Tony as she turns round to prop up a wall with her back, holding the cup in both hands. "You don't have powers, do you? I'm sorry, that's rude of me to just say — but, I mean, is it the suits or are they just giving you a hard time?"

* * *

"We were," Warren says. "I still have fond memories of that houseboat we took over in…summer 2007? '08? I mean we had to pay what's-his-name back the damages afterward, but it was worth it."

Warren exhales a breath. "But times change. I suppose people have to change along with them." A pause, as Meggan arrives; he murmurs a thanks for the tea, taking a cup for himself. "Awful as that is."

His brows lift as Tony gets into the meat of the discussion, however. He finally takes a seat opposite Stark, fanning his wings out so they don't catch on the seat back, or beneath him. He notices Alison hanging at the wings, and his eyes gentle a little as he tilts his head in a universal 'come over here?' gesture. He knows how draining those calls get.

His attention returns to Tony. His gaze flickers thoughtfully towards Bart as the younger man is brought up, but otherwise it holds on Stark. "Without your permission? That's not how they spun it," Warren says, not necessarily with disbelief of Tony so much as outrage at this use made of him. "I empathize, though. They would have taken mine if I didn't, and they found me out. I took a slightly different 'what they didn't expect' tack than you, though.

"Bold move, either way, starting back up in Metropolis. I take it that's how you're going to be channeling your efforts to combat registration? They certainly can't get jurisdiction in Delaware to look into what you do there. Not without some significant effort."

* * *

"Tolerate is about the same as like with her isn't it?" Stark asks as Alison comes up to join the conversation. "She saved my life, so somehow I had to impress her. Maybe its because I told her I'd put spikes on a suit in her honor." The engineer flashes the musician a grin as he raises his glass towards her.

At the question from Meggan there is a pause there, glancing around at the people gathered there. "Mmmm…that /is/ the official report. I mean my suits do have more firepower than most countries. So most people take that at face value…but…"

He casts around until his eyes fall on a spoon. Reaching over to pluck it up he holds it between two fingers. "The whole 'I nearly died' thing wasn't really an exaggeration. And what kept me going had some side effects lets say. Which I'd rather not get around to everyone."

There is a smirk again though when he looks back towards Warren. "Yeah, exactly that. It works though, and then Bart here and Pepper." A flash of a grin at the younger hero. "Who would /defintally/ rather be playing video games with Punchbuggy there…" He looks towards where Rockslide left. "…so this is some serious fortitude on his part. Anyway, they are gonna keep helping fight against it with Stark Industries…" A pause. "…wait, Allen Industries? Did you ever figure out if you were gonna rename it?"

* * *

Bart rocks back and forth on his feet a bit, his attention drifting between the people in the room and the doors as though he's tempted to bolt. A glance is cast towards the tea when Meggan brings it, but he's not so bored that he'd help himself to a cup and hasn't really been much of a tea fan in the first place.

As Tony calls him out the young speedster throws a sheepish grin in the man's direction, along with a shrug. He is doing his best though! Hasn't tapped his foot yet!

"Iii'm thinking we'll probably keep it under your name. Probably better than rebranding- it'll be something familiar still, and maybe less people will be inclined to uh…be dubious about the whole ownership change?" He sounds like he's guessing at his own reasoning but it sounds kinda right to him. And hey, as boring as the law books that Tim had given him for Christmas, he'd actually read through them.

"…also I think my uncle would disown me or something if I put my name up like that," he adds.

* * *

After a pause, Alison approaches Meggan like a hopeful beggar for the promise of tea — and shows silent gratitude in the tightening of the corners of her eyes.

Her smile comes back on, cheery enough — but it's typical, predictable Alison Blaire, when it comes to the detection of an empath: the laughs and easy humour are always skin-deep, and run like thin ice over a deep lake of Complication.

It's probably close to be exhausting to be emotionally receptive near the Dazzler for too long.

Tony's answered remark on Rachel, however, brings a brief, sincere warmth to Alison — Stark is way too much like Warren, but she can't help but like this one too.

Listening on to Meggan's questions — interesting ones, one Alison hadn't thought of, too far self-involved tonight to dare — her lips press thoughtfully on Tony's question. Side effects. Has he just become a mutant's care bear cousin? Doesn't bode well.

"Won't leave this room," she assures of Tony's request for secrecy.

Still, Alison hangs back — she should call her lawyer back — before Warren catches her eye. He motions her closer, and for a moment, there's a deer-like quality about her, reticent and wanting to run off into the Westchester loam. How she looked, often, ten years ago.

Nonetheless, she concedes, trying to force down a bit of her fatigue as she joins him, tea still in hand. Her eyes linger on Bart, attracted by his restlessness. She can sympathize.

* * *

"Ugh, I hate this more every time I hear more about it," Meggan says, sipping her tea afterwards. (It is standard if well-made black tea, for better or for worse.)

After it's passed out, she says, "I swear on my father's grave, I'll keep any secrets you tell here, Mr. Stark." She puts her hand that does not have a teacup over her heart as if to emphasize this.

She looks then to Bart, contemplating what he is saying and realizing she doesn't get it. Her brow furrows as she tries to piece it together inwardly, and perhaps she reaches a satisfactory answer, because she doesn't answer him in detail.

"It's clever of you to put this across state lines," Meggan says. "Though you said the national government…? Would they be able to get round that at all?"

* * *

The news that Tony's recovery had some 'side effects' has Warren frowning. "Side effects? I thought you were looking better than the last time I saw you — barring the period you were dead, obviously. The secret is safe with us, regardless."

As far as their plans? "As good a plan of attack as any. Miss Potts can't be easily assailed under any kind of registration law, and it will take them time to assess a new player." Tony's smile towards Bart is joined by an eerily matching one from Warren. "Now, see," he adds back to Tony, his expression fading, "the thing I did that was not what anyone expected was to come out — and go public. Very public. Distractingly public."

He nods towards Alison, as she comes at his request to join him. The look in her eyes brings him to make a mental note: talk later. "Alison and I mean to attract a lot of attention with the foundation we're helming, and — just in general. If you need cover for something, we can distract so you get it done."

His attention returns to Bart, even as Meggan queries Tony further. "I'm curious how you came to know this reprobate Stark," Warren directs towards Bart, with a flash of a smile. "I've heard you are his ward — and that's charming in itself, Tony Stark taking in waifs. You're truly nesting, Tony. — Were you an intern? What kind of business experience do you have?" Warren may be surprised by the answer.

* * *

"Very distractingly public," Stark smirks towards Warren with a shake of his head. "I mean I knew, but that was a hell of a press conference. It defiantly distracted, and I'm sure gathered you a whole gaggle of new admirers." A glance between Alison and Warren for a moment though and there is a questioning look towards the billionaire.

Total bro code for thumbs up.

But then he's asking questions about Bart and Stark laughs and shakes his head. "Nesting? You're the one to talk my friend. I'm not the one with the wings." He pauses though. "…but…thank you. For not bouncing the news about. I'm still…learning just what side effects there are. Its a learning process." A glance towards the X-men in the room. "Never mix magic and tech, it gets way to complicated. But there are some…enhancements."

More questions about Bart though as Stark looks towards him with a smirk. "Would you believe it started as a joke? A friend asked me to get him into a Stark event, and I told them he was my Mysterious Young Ward. It just snowballed from there. And now here we are…" A flash of a grin. "…hopefully you don't hold it /all/ against me." This to Bart of course.

Meggan's question though causes him to nod. "Yeah, it could but thankfully its just New York state that is doing this crap right now. If we can fight it on a national level, and if you need some donations to your foundation count me in, we should be in a better spot. They can't come after me in Metropolis right now."

* * *

It's fine, Meggan. Bart's pretty sure if he thinks about it too hard or goes over it again he'd lose what he'd understood of it himself. Give himself a headache. Business generates a great deal of those for him, mostly for all the stuff he has to think about. It's like studying a foreign language, except that'd be much easier!

At least it's interesting to hear how other people outside of the group he usually rubs elbows with has been handling the whole registration situation. The smile he returns towards Warren is of the sort that isn't certain whether it should be there or not, if only because it's strange seeing anyone even remotely similar to, much less getting along with Tony Stark. It would probably only really bother him if he had problems with Tony as it seemed so many people did. Bart still can't understand why, he finds the guy loads of fun!

He already knows what the man's deal is regarding his big 'comeback', as it were. He might not understand all the technicalities about it, but the basics made enough sense to him that the rest was easy to accept.

Even though Warren means no offense, Bart looks over at him with an arch of a brow and the slightest of a pout. It melts into something of a crooked smile as questions are turned towards him.

"Errr… Well no, not an intern. I uh…work well with a group, quick to pick things up and fast when it comes to finishing things up once I know what I'm doing?"

Big. Grin.

It's not like he's lying?

"Nah, it's been fun!" he assures Tony. "-except for the business part. Which is I guess a big part of stuff. It's okay though, Mister Stark. Or should I call you dad?"

* * *

"Oh that is so cute," Meggan murmurs as Bart proposes calling Tony 'dad'. She does not seem to be able to help herself.

* * *

"Well, you know me," Warren laughs, with a fluff of his feathers. "I hate press conferences, so I make them count. And I like to remind everyone about me every few months or so. The board will run off without me otherwise, and I get confused if there's not a certain critical mass of admiration."

Warren knows what Tony really means, though. It's in that slight look that passes between the two: the wordless questioning glance from Tony, and the slight answering nod from Warren, which translates in bro code to 'yeaaa.'

The remark about nesting and wings has Warren pulling absently at the feathers of his own, in a reflexive preening of the disarrayed vanes. "I feel it makes me extra-qualified to talk about nesting," he quips. And while he does look a bit troubled at the idea of Tony having apparently just 'given himself enhancements with magic and tech,' he doesn't try to pry further — not now. "So long as you don't grow wings. They really won't be able to tell us apart then," he settles on instead.

He is interested in Bart, however, because he can smell all kinds of omissions in what both he and Tony are saying. He doesn't seem too concerned about it ultimately, however, his curiosity ultimately left to the wind with a flashed smile and a, "You'll do great." Warren is probably the only person who would look at any Tony endeavor and say that without reservation, but then their Bad Ideas Venn diagrams tend to overlap in several critical areas.

He nods to Tony's offer, however. "We'll see how we arrange that, if it comes to it," he says. "We're trying to keep the foundation as above-board and divorced from all of this as possible. Above reproach, so to speak. Metropolis should be shield enough for the time being."

He glances out the window. "That said, much as I enjoy seeing your face, I'm sure if you stay much longer, the students will be trying to drive off in your car."

* * *

He's settling down and getting responsible. My god he's getting old, Tony is getting old too! HE DOESN'T LIKE TO CONSIDER THESE THINGS. And then the dad bit. His eyes unfocus and he looks for a moment like he is about to get hives before he shakes it off. He needs to never, ever, tell Emma about this.

Ever.

He starts to stand though as he shakes himself out of that. "Alright, I don't want that. Just because it /does/ turn into a suit and I don't want someone accidently stumbling into the mansion." A smirk at that before he sighs and glances at Bart. A smirk. "And you, kid. Are walking back."

Is he angry? He sounds…not like he's angry. More amused and exasperated but he has to at least pretend like he's angry. "But yeah, I agree with Warren. You'll do fine…" A pause. "…and I'm not cute! …I'm handsome, brilliant, and eccentric." Then he'll go for the door, waving backwards over his shoulder. "Thanks for the whiskey. Enjoy your…" A wave of his hand towards Warren and Dazzler. "And Meggan? Great snuggie. You should get Metalhead to wear them more often."

Then? He'll start to amble out towards the car.

* * *

The looks between Tony and Warren go without Bart saying anything, perhaps because he's fascinated that they seem to be communicating just by looks. Or maybe Warren is telepathic aside from having wings! It could be, right?

He however is not sure what to think of the smile that the winged man flashes him then. Is he being sincere? It sounds like he is, and Bart can only smile back in gratitude for the encouragement, even if his own expression is slightly clueless.

When Tony goes silent at the thought of being called 'dad', the speedster wonders if he's crossed a line. He's this close to waving a hand in front of the man's face when it seems Tony snaps himself out of it. Oh, time to go then. Bart nearly chokes on the breath he expels in relief when he's told he's going to walk back. That's like. The worst thing to tell a speedster. Especially someone who takes things so literally at times. There's a brief look of horror that crosses his face. Not that he'd do it, but come on!

It becomes clear to him that it wasn't meant to be taken literally, which is good news all around. Coughing into a fist, Bart plasters on a grin and turns to follow after Tony, but not before giving a nod and waving around at everyone.

"Thanks for having us," he says, even though technically they didn't give them a choice, but it all turned out fine! He not quite bounds after Tony en route to the car. But just to make sure…

"I don't really have to walk back, do I…?"

* * *

Stark smirks slightly at the question. "…no kid," He slips his glasses on as he gets into the car. "…you get to run."

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