starkingenuity | Why Can't We Be Friends?

"Ten more minutes, I've almost got us satellite from Japan." And a little tie in with his own Tower. What? Tony has to do something to help his escape. He's not going to be stuck for three months playing lets have cocktails with this whiny little Mick!

He makes one more tweak and that ten minute window goes out the window. He flicks on the National Nihon station and grins as he pads over to the table Moran is slopping together.

Tony shares a frown with Moriarty over his pet's mess.

"Thought he was house trained--"

Moran nearly back hands him and instead shoves a styrofoam back against his chest. "Shut up, Stark."

Jim wasn't stupid, he could already guess what Tony had done to the TV and he was going to get rid of it very shortly in a way that Moran was just going to love. Until then, they sat around a pleasant little table, all of them eating their dinners in a nice sort of atmosphere.

Light conversation, nice and casual, it was going very well.

Well, until Jim finished his dinner, tapped the metal fork against his teeth for a second as he thought away. The next moment, he was stabbing said fork right into Starks hand, which just happened to be sitting there unassumingly. For a little guy, Jim had some force behind his moves.

He didn't even say anything to Tony, he just left the fork in there and turned back Moran, that twinkle in his eyes. The games were starting.

It's just so much, it happens so quick, that all Tony can do is stare. First, the wall gets his undivided attention. And then his hand. And finally Jim. Only then does his mouth hang open, the scream still soundless for a moment. Moran makes more noise, fork still in his mouth. It's just a little snort of a thing, followed by a grin as Tony stands, knocking back his chair.

Oh, it's a mess. A hundred things pool through his mind as he gags on his own tongue and shuffles back and tries not spill the wine.

Yes, he has his priorities.

Sweat beads on his brow and pours down his temples as he finally finds his voice. "Wh--" Not much of a voice after all.

It was very comical to see Tony slowly process it all happening to him, did he really think Jim wanted them to eat together for fun? It was a statement, nothing was going to be as it seemed and he wasn't here to play nice. Like he said before, he was a fan of Tonys quick thinking father, he had yet to see those traits here with Tony. Just a revamped version, logical mind but too cocky. Looking at the 'tweaked' TV, he sighed and turned to Moran.

"I suppose you'll have to shoot the TV to little bits, he's clearly tampered with it to connect to his home life and while I did put up a disruptor, lets not take the chance. Go next door, kill whoevers in there and steal their TV. We'll do it after dessert."

He grabbed the pie from the box and cut it into three pieces, ignoring Tony in favourite of the food.

"Take a seat, Tony, you'll miss out. If you don't take a seat, I'll have to make you."

Putting his silencer on his gun, Moran makes pot shots at the television, very slowly reducing it to a pile of neat rubble that hardly makes any noise at all. While he has his pie. Because seriously? Mmm, pie!

Tony's a little too distraught to eat actually, but he does sit, face half covered by his hand as he tries not to freak out by the piece of cutlery still extending from his hand.

He gasps like a fish, but after Moran snorts at him, the billionare manages a faint: 'now you need a new fork' to Jim.

"He better not puke on our floor, handcuff him to the shower rail so if he does anything, our room is clean," Jim complained but he was in no rush, they were enjoy dessert and Tony would be out for a while, he seemed to be in shock. All of that from a little fork? What was in store next would be interesting.

Maybe he wouldn't last as long as Jim predicted. Chances of getting the company back rose to 4% - not bad at all.

"When you remove that fork, could you give it a quick swill?"

Ever the loyal, if grumbling, servant, Moran does just exactly as he's told before returning the cleaned off fork to it's owner. "I'm having his pie," the marksman announces, but cuts off the crusts for Jim since he knows how much he likes them and sets about eating the fruit filling with relish.

Tony's whimpering in the bathroom doesn't get much sympathy, mostly because Moran's already figured his opponent out.

"He's playing us," he grumbles. "Yeah, that shit hurts but not enough to leave him pissing in those expensive socks of his." He rolls his eyes. "I hate the clever ones."

"In every lie, there's a shred of truth," Moriarty remarked and as one of the biggest liars in the world, he knew that little saying meant a lot. Tony was clever and trying to make them think they were pulling it off and Jim knew they weren't because nothing was ever that easy with the smart ones. "If he does try to run, just shoot his foot. Or leg. Depends where you get the shot."

He was predicting a death defying escape attempt eventually here.

Sighing, he eyed the smashed in TV and pulled a face. Now how were they going to watch Glee, after the pie Moran was going to have to go and steal a TV.

Until then, he got up and headed into the bathroom. It was only right to wash his hands.

Edited 2012-10-03 16:53 (UTC)

Not quite dangling from the shower curtain rail, Tony looks up from beneath damp hair at Jim as he washes his hand. He already knows that this ploy isn't working. Luckily, it still really does hurt like a bitch. His suit jacket is stained red and the paleness isn't anything that can be faked.

The corners of his lips pull upward. "Did you guys really have my pie?" he asks, but it's not like the bathroom is sound proof. He heard Moran happily chewing away at it just like he hears him get up to steal a television from next door. "Okay, fine, I deserve it. But c'mon, the TV thing? Give me a little credit. I don't like being caged."

It's a sentiment only the truly crazy ever say.

"Unless I'm in the armor. Don't suppose you've got that lying around, do you?"

Moriarty was very thorough when washing his hands, it was done very methodically and it showed he was a man who was no stranger to getting his hands dirty. Not that he enjoyed that, he didn't usually get involved if he could help it but like Moran said, they smart ones were the worst and they needed someone with a mind to challenge him.

"Vanity or friends?" Moriarty said as he wiped his hands on the towel, looking at Tony with a shark like grin. He knew both matter to Tony but he was just curious which one was worse. "I'm curious which one wins. For example, if I said that I had Ms Potts somewhere and I was going to brutally murder her if you didn't agree to have acid poured in your face, would you let her die? Or would you save your face?"

Tony loved to be loved, if he was mutilated, he'd probably only get pity. But he did love his friends. Of course he had no intention of doing something so cliche but he was interested.

"This isn't a deep psychological question I'm going to use against you, I already have theories. I know neither are the most important to you but one had to win over the other?"

There's no reason to hesitate. Tony knows that Jim is far more creative. Besides. He's probably already figured it out. "I don't know my own social security number," he teases, ignoring the pain as he focuses on the madman. He's dealt with one before. "I need her or I'm screwed."

Tony is vain but he's still a hero. He still likes to think he is, at least. It's important to him to sort of live up to the man the world knows him as know. And that's the guy that carried the nuke into space, thinking he was going to die.

"Now that we're friends, think you can put my arm down? I'm pretty sure it's going to give me a heart attack."

"Well that's disappointing," Moriarty complained, pulling a face. He expected more than that but then, he was one of 'earth's mightiest heroes' ... what a joke they were. All they did was step in when something big happened, anyone in the world could do that, people got new powers every day and nothing really set them apart from those people except a costume and backing from their government. Want to save the world and do something impressive? Sort out the third world. Then he'd appalled them, even he could sort out that giant fuck up in the world.

"I'm sure you've done the maths, right? Of how many weapons you sold, the average deaths they must of caused and then compared it to the lives you've saved? You've a long way to go," Moriarty pointed out because yes, he had done the maths.

It had been fun actually! Lot of civilian deaths.

He was tempted, for a moment, to let him have a heart attack and be done with this. But eventually he peeked his head out the door to get Moran. "Sebastian, darling, Tony wants to join us for Glee."

"No." Moran actually growls it. "No. No, I'm tired of-- Why can't you play with your pets after? You promised me a quiet night in and I don't know about you, but this isn't fucking quiet at all."

In the bathroom, Tony just shook his head at Moriarty. "You let him speak to you like that?" he asks, knowing Moran can hear him and, at the response he gets, Tony actually laughs.

"I'm sorry, boss, but I'm fucking spraying your fucking ceiling with his fucking brains!"

"Language. So unprofessional," Tony laments.

"See, Moran, unprofessional. I always say you need to mind your manners a bit more," Jim cooed at his second in command, still half leaning out the bathroom door. Though he did turn around just to give Tony an amused look. "Fair warning, if you piss him off, he will blow your brains out. He has done that in the past... and it's been hilarious."

Jim had a strange sense of humour and when moran got pissed off, things got funny and deadly and he loved it.

"Look, it's a hostage situation, it was never going to be quiet. If it bothers you that much, I'm sure I packed duct tape somewhere."

Either way, he was leaving Tony behind in the bathroom and heading out to get a drink. He always had a little something when watching Glee, it helped him enjoy the mindless stupidity of it all.

"It wasn't suppose to be a fucking hostage situation. It was suppose to be some pot shots into the crowd to stir everyone up and then faggy wine, Glee, and dinner." Moran has his arms crossed and his lower lip out but God forbid anyone mention that he might be pouting. Pouting is not in Moran's vocabulary.

Stomping around and acting like a pissant, however, is very in character and he gladly embraces it as he does just that. Stomp stomp stomp. Assholes.

The sound of springs signal that Moran's fallen into bed and Tony sighs.

"I'll give you the number of where I got Pepper. Very good."

Moriarty was happily on his bed, curled up and reading a new book that apparently was meant to help explain how the ten dimensions posited in super-string theory can fit within the four dimensions we are conventionally familiar with. Thus far he wasn't impressed but he highlighted bits he could incorporate into his next research paper. A life of crime hardly meant throwing away his academic career.

"Let Tony out and do stop sulking Moran. I'll make it up to you, I have a fun job for tomorrow."

And he knew Moran would like it, it was needlessly violent and somewhat pointless but it was going to help them cement if Tony would ever be willing to do change his mind or not. Jim was still voting no.

"And while you're in there, get that number?"

Sebastian had been lightly stroking Jim's hair while he read until he mentioned the number. "You're not getting a PA," he grumbles and shoves away from the great genius before shuffling into the bathroom.

Tony's still hanging there, sort of swinging to and fro like a strung up skeleton on a withered tree. He doesn't make eyecontact but he does sort of topple happily into Moran's arms when he's let down.

"Think your boss will let be have a band-aid?"

Sebastian grumbles but eventually packs up the wound and wraps it properly.

When Tony and Sebastian returned, Moriarty looked up from his book and tossed it over his shoulder with a sigh. He'd finish it later, for now he had a henchmen to cheer up. "Sebby, you know I was joking, don't be so silly or I'll have to bash some sense into your brain with my needlessly big book. Like I'd replace you with a PA, they wouldn't kill people for getting my coffee order wrong and they've probably never killed a tiger."

Which is still one of the main reasons he loved Moran, weird but come on, how many people did things like that? It set him apart from everyone else. Determination, amorality and intelligence.

"Has Pepper ever killed a tiger, Tony?"

... And now he was thinking of the cereal, he looked over at Moran and raised an eyebrow, assuming he was probably thinking the same. Maybe he could kill another 'tiger' after all.

"Just the cereal." Oh see Tony is a quick one. He's well aware of what they're getting at. He plops down as Sebastian exchanges a look of withering Lack of amusement st their guest and yanks Tony back up.

"Geniuses only." It's a growl.

And Tony is of course offended but he laughs and takes the floor where Moran smashes him. He's not feeling hopeless yet. They're not completely off the grid. Someone will find him.

Pepper will need him to sign something--

Right? Maybe?

Who knows. His head hurts and he tries not to think about it as Moran calls down for Frosted Flakes.

Moriarty and Moran were never the most normal people when it came to hostage situations. Most took it seriously refused to let their hostage see their face and it was all business. Moriarty knew how these things could go and he understood that 9 times out of 10, he was going to kill his hostage.

And he was going to kill Tony eventually so why not have fun.

He sat on the bed, eating a bowl of cereal and watching Glee on his laptop as they still had yet to get a new TV. It was a dreadful show that Moriarty didn't actually like that much but it was funny making Moran sit through it. He always looked so amazingly awkward and unimpressed.

"Americans make the worst TV, it's brilliant!" Moriarty said brightly, just for the benefit of the two Americans in the room with him.

"And the Irish are all drunk bastards that need braces," Moran shoots back, making Tony tilt back his head and frown.

"You really let him talk to you like--" He gets a boot to the face, something he's only ever seen in cartoons, and immediately shuts up. Moran happily sits through the rest of the show and then goes back to setting up the television.

He'd gotten it before Tony came out of the bathroom, killed the lovely couple next door too -- which calmed his nerves a lot -- but he's having a hell of a time setting it up.

And he wants to watch Big Bang Theory.

While Moran fiddled with the television, Moriarty simply sighed in a loud tone. They had a technological genius here and they were just going to struggle to get their TV working? Yes, that was definitely the image he wanted to present to his hostage. Still, he seemed very happy to let Moran tinker with it and curse as the aerial wouldn't go in the back.

"He's adorable, isn't he? Would you believe that he has an IQ only 20 points below yours?" Moriarty remarked cheerfully to Tony. Everyone in the room was clearly of high intelligence and yet there was still a remarkable amount of stupidity going on.

He wasn't going to openly brag about his own IQ, that was a private matter. Naturally.

"And yet he can do as he's told and you can't. Is that the difference? 20 points from a life saving decision. Maybe we should start working on that brain yours till it's average and willing."

Jim is a man of mathmatics and statistics. That means that he likes equations, he likes balance. He probably is interested in classical music and symmetry too. Tony knows the type and they always are just a little bit off, a little bit...psychotic. And that's interesting.

"IQ's not something I really take note of," Tony says, striking up a good conversation. "I'm good with structures is all. I understand things easily. So stuff like that? That's easy. For me. I don't think I'd be a good sniper though."

And yes. He knows that's what Moran is. They've eluded to it enough. And he reminds him a little of Barton.

He almost wants to ask if Moran can track something with his eyes and shoot another without looking at it.

"When I was a boy, I was told that IQ means absolutely nothing, it all depends on your emotional intelligence," Jim laughed at that one, it was a sort of condescending laugh. He never felt anything in his life, not really. Yes, he had emotions and he expressed them but they never felt truly there. Except boredom, boredom was always there and he had never stopped it.

Only once. And he'd blown out the back of his head to do it. The scar was well hidden in his hair down, it had been very lucky to survive that one. Bless Moran and his ability to beat sense back into him even with a head wound.

"It's not important to me at all but it's important to others. People react on an emotional level, not a logical level. And that makes them stupid and weak. Which is why if I was to of, say, planted a bomb in the middle of a lovely little kindergarten in midtown manhattan and it's set to go off when all the kids sit down for story time, you're likely to want to stop it... despite the fact that you can't."

He smiled at Tony. That sort of dead unsettling smile. And then he looked away once more.

"Try putting the scart lead in the other socket, Sebby."

"Oh." And there, back to life again. Sebastian grins at his hard work and crosses his arms ver his chest. Tony is left wondering just how they work. He understands hat Moran must be brilliant, he went to Oxford, he's obviously military, but he doesn't really know why he works so well with Jim. Jim seems the sort to never work well with anyone.

At all.

Tony frowns at that. In another world, another life, they might have gotten along so well.

They seem to have the same sort of mentality.

Or at least the same need for order and a little bit of fun. Anything that doesn't lead to the drags of boredom.

Moran returns to the bed and flops back down, stretched out. He and Tony sing along to the theme song.

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