Tony is entirely not beach-ready by any stretch of the imagination, but having skipped movie night in order to work feverishly on the suit, he figures he might as well attempt to attend some kind of social function around here. Dr. Foghorn Leghorn's get-together sounds more his speed, and he even locates shorts and a tank in the supply drop.
(Tony brings a bag of pretzel sticks he found in the back of the pantry. Whatever, it counts.)
Besides, as he wiggles his toes in the sand, still warm from baking in a sun that's sinking rapidly toward the sea, Tony finds himself grounded, centered in a way he hasn't since before he got to the station. Yeah, sure, it isn't real – the BARF that Stark R&D's cultivating only wishes it were this advanced, truly – but it isn't the cool, sleekly mod interiors of the station, and it damn well isn't the blackness of space outside. Beaches, bonfires, blankets and booze? Got it. Totally in the realm of Normal.
He takes it easy on the drinks, mixing a pretty rough greyhound out of vodka and grapefruit juice, and sets himself to mingling.
tony stark | ota
(Tony brings a bag of pretzel sticks he found in the back of the pantry. Whatever, it counts.)
Besides, as he wiggles his toes in the sand, still warm from baking in a sun that's sinking rapidly toward the sea, Tony finds himself grounded, centered in a way he hasn't since before he got to the station. Yeah, sure, it isn't real – the BARF that Stark R&D's cultivating only wishes it were this advanced, truly – but it isn't the cool, sleekly mod interiors of the station, and it damn well isn't the blackness of space outside. Beaches, bonfires, blankets and booze? Got it. Totally in the realm of Normal.
He takes it easy on the drinks, mixing a pretty rough greyhound out of vodka and grapefruit juice, and sets himself to mingling.
"Pretzel?"