[ he might come to once the motion of the crate finally stops after hours of travel. there are voices, one tony's, who thanks someone named "hap" and tells him to have a good night. a car drives away. after more stillness, the straps are unbuckled and tony shoves the lid open to a room with fluorescent lights. he leans over, says, ] All right, hibernation over. Welcome to your new foster home, sport, [ and lugs out the chassis, carrying it to a nearby table.
once simba sits up, he'll see a mechanical wonder land: tony stark's home workshop. the crate sits in the garage, where there is a line of modern and classic cars, all shined to perfection. past them are rows of tables and desks covered in blue prints and drafting paper and various tools. in the back is heavy machinery for fabrication; and another desk, closer to a leisure area with a couch, a wall-mounted TV, and a kitchenette, looks like a command center with a semi-circle of computer monitors and keyboards. every surface of the workshop is organized chaos, from the tables to the walls with its pipes, metal cabinets, and multiple circuit boxes.
tony returns to the crate just when a robot-arm wheels over and beeps curiously at the gion. it reaches in without preamble to remove a gauntlet, mimicking tony's process. ] Already? [ he sighs at it. ] Shoo. I got this.
[He stares wide-eyed at his new surroundings. Objectively, he knows the world's changed over the years, but this is incontrovertible proof, right in front of his eyes. Even the cars look different, sleek and streamlined where he's used to seeing curves. As for the technology, well, that's completely beyond him.
There's some kind of automated arm picking up a gauntlet, and he assumes it's just a normal process, but Tony talks to it like it's a human being. He blinks slowly and carefully moves some of the armor off of himself.
Once he's out of the crate, he realizes just how filthy he is in comparison to his surroundings. It's not like he can help it, but he still feels ashamed of everything down to his pieced-together loincloth.]
Is- is there a tub I could use? [he asks awkwardly, clutching his pack to his chest. In that moment, his body language belongs to someone much smaller than he is.] And maybe an old bedsheet I could have? Doesn't have to be anything fancy.
[Although he's rapidly coming to suspect that everything Tony owns is fancy.]
[ the whole procedure of getting him out of the crate tony fills with chatter, whether at simba ("how was your experience with crate airlines?") or at the robot trying to assist ("what're you doing? give 'im space"). as soon as simba's free, tony struts over to a console, talking about adding him to jarvis's systems, when the awkward requests finally slow him down. he turns, his eyes a smidgen too wide and alert for the darkening circles underneath. ]
Yeah, [ he answers, breathless. ] Yeah, you wanna wear it like a toga? Toga party. Speakin' of, first, stand over here for me, please. [ walking backwards, he beckons the gion over to and points at a grid on the floor. ]
[The constant flow of chatter only makes him more uncomfortable - he's been living by himself for years - and he slowly flattens his ears against his skull. The very tip of his tail twitches, but other than that, his body language is unusually still.]
Toga...party? [is all he has to offer as he stands in the grid. It's honestly about all he can get in edgewise with the way Tony talks.]
JARVIS? [ tony calls out instead of addressing toga party, barreling forward to the next topic, arm still extended to where he pointed. from everywhere and nowhere a dry british voice answers, "online, sir." apparently satisfied, tony nods and drops his arm. ] Scan our guest in as Simba, [ he orders. ] Grant alpha access to all sectors save for section four. Take measurements while you're at it and set a reminder to call my tailor.
[ while cyan lines of light flash up and down the gion, jarvis inquires, "shall i leave the note for ms. potts?" ]
No. Personal matter.
[ "voice recognition in progress." ]
[ tony smirks at the gion, eyes bright and exuberant. he acts similar to the reactor in his chest, energy crackling beneath a smooth, contained exterior. it bleeds out like radiation through his manic eyes. ] That's JARVIS. Say hi.
[He blinks, tilts his head slightly.] Is there a two-way mirror in here? Where is he? He's your butler, right?
[Of course Tony has a butler. That just seems normal to him - he's rich, after all. Rich enough to fly whenever and wherever he wants, rich enough to own all those fancy cars. It's more wealth than he can possibly imagine.]
[ "voice recognized. designation: simba," jarvis reports, unperturbed. "a new home profile has been uploaded. would you like to set your preferences now?" ]
Delay that, J. One hour. [ tony ushers simba off the grid and leads him through the workshop to the wall of glass windows and door, where a staircase lies in wait. he takes the steps two at a time, expecting to be followed. ] No, he's–well, sort of? He's my NLUI. AI, whatever. He's the smart part of a smart house. My own code. I named him after my old flesh-and-blood butler, Edwin Jarvis.
[ a wall fountain trickles into stones at the top of the staircase, which leads into a living room with more wide window walls, the pacific ocean at night beyond them. the decor is modern and sparse, a tasteful, elegant simplicity, mostly soft, neutral or earthen tones like white, beige, brown, and pastel green. spacious and open, the room sports a long sectional sofa (some of the couch pillows have fuzzy edges, oddly feminine for tony; same with the bowl of realistic white orchids on the wooden table) and squat, cushioned stools, with decorative nick-knacks like an electric guitar leaning against the wall and modern art statues strategically placed in corners or as centerpieces.
tony zooms right past it, by the fireplace and grand piano and bar and all, to the next level staircase right above. they'll be passing by a lot of sights like this, classical wealth with modern tastes. ] C'mon. We're headed to the pool.
[...what. He doesn't understand a word of anything Tony just said, but he feels like it's useless to ask him to explain it now, when he's clearly so keyed up. Besides, the opulence of the rest of the house is more than a little overwhelming. He's never seen anything like it - which admittedly isn't saying much, but he simply doesn't have anything to compare it to.]
I don't need- [He breaks off in mid-sentence and shakes his head.] You probably don't have a tub big enough. [He remembers bathing in a tin washtub, being small and skinny enough to fit, knobbly knees sticking up out of the water. Sometimes he forgets how big he is.] Although I'm kinda surprised you don't, with everything else around here.
Oh, I probably do, [ tony throws over his shoulder with a sly grin, clearing the top step. he keeps right on strutting down the hall. ] But c'mon. The pool'll be more fun. Surer shot, anyway.
If I get my mane wet, you're gonna have to dry it out, [he shoots back. Never mind that he probably does need to wash and dry it because there's more straw there than there is in the rest of his fur.]
So it's just you here?
[He knows it's just Tony - that's why it's safe to have him here - but he's having a hard time wrapping his brain around all this for just one person.]
[ tony shrugs, chattering about industrial hair dryers and styling simba's mane if he wants. how about a nice coif? fluff it out? tony bets he cleans up nice. sometimes as they walk they pass by framed paintings–all abstract shapes and emotional impressions–impersonal trinkets on hallway tables, and potted ornamental plants. peeks through open doors and passing through other spaces show more of the same. compared to the organized chaos of the workshop, the rest of the house feels like a showroom, the only similarity being the clean, simple efficiency that an engineer like tony can find aesthetically pleasing. at the very least, it feels decorated by someone else's hand, just with him in mind, save for the occasional feminine oddity.
when simba asks his next question, tony easily vaults into the new topic. ] Yup. And now you! Well, Pepper's around during her work hours but you can avoid her by hangin' out in the guest area upstairs.
[He wonders idly just how many rooms Tony has, and what he uses them all for - if there's someone around who keeps the place clean. Maybe that's what this 'Pepper' does, although it seems like a daunting task for just one woman. Someone as rich as Tony wouldn't call the help by their given name, but Tony also seems eccentric enough to do whatever the hell he wants, like take in stray monsters.]
We'll need soap, too, [he says suddenly.] And towels - I guess you probably have towels somewhere by the pool, though.
[Great, now he's hopping from topic to topic, too. It must be contagious.]
You mean you don't just lick yourself clean? [ tony says, partly a tease and partly an honest question, before he veers off to the left, past an open door into a bedroom. ] In that case: pitstop! [ outside of this door and others, a blue, electronic panel with a black knob hangs. if simba touches it, it'll flash green and jarvis will speak, granting him access. inside, more windows with a balcony overlook the pacific. the middle of the room has a king-sized bed, neatly made. parts of the walls are polished dark wood while others have contemporary wallpaper–at least two kinds, so no adjacent wall is the same. near the windows stands a telescope, pointed up.
tony disappears into another room off the side. if simba follows, he'll find the master bathroom and tony shifting through bottles. tony calls back, ] Feelin' anything in particular? I got black walnut, cedar, eucalyptus, peppermint oil...
[He huffs, but doesn't sound especially insulted.] That's a lot of licking.
[And there are other reasons, but he's not going to delve into them right now. Instead, he follows Tony through the master bedroom and into the bathroom, and-]
I don't know?
[Scented soap is a luxury he's never been able to indulge in, and liquid soap is just bewildering, and he's not sure why anyone would want to smell like trees.]
Nothing overwhelming, [he adds. His sense of smell is sharper than a human's, and he doesn't want anything too strong.]
What about that? [ poking around in the closet, tony points without looking at the bowl-shaped bathtub housed behind plexiglass. apart from it, across ceramic tiling, is a shower drain and handheld nozzle. the wall behind them is another window wall, also thankfully facing the ocean. tony picks out one bottle and reads the ingredients. ] Can you fit in that? Try it out, [ he suggests while he's occupied. ]
[He pads across the smooth floor and stares out at the view of the ocean for a long moment. It's amazing, but something about the expanse of blue makes fear coil in his gut, and he's not sure why. Tearing his gaze away from the vista, he climbs into the bathtub.]
There's, uh, not really any room for water. [Which is more or less the point of taking a bath, so that's probably not going to work. But while Tony's preoccupied with soap, he climbs out of the tub and sheds his loincloth, poking at the controls for the shower until he manages to produce a spray of water.]
Yup, figured, [ tony says, reading another bottle. he glances over at the spray of water, does a double-take, then stares openly at the naked gion. frowning back at his various products, tony grumbles, ] Shower works, too. If you wanna be pedestrian about it, [ and rummages till he picks out three bottles: one shampoo, one conditioner, and one unscented body wash. he carries them past the plexiglass barrier. ] I still vote pool. I could hose you down after. I'd be good at it. I've judged my share of wet t-shirt contests.
[He makes a face and turns the shower off again. Thankfully, he's not dripping wet from the spray, just lightly damp. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist; it looks more like a short skirt, but it does the job.]
[ halfway to slotting the chosen bottles into the hanging basket for simba to use, tony pauses. he snaps his head over and cocks it. ] Really? [ he blinks, taken off-guard. ] I mean, I wasn't serious. You can use the shower.
[ a smile sneaks onto tony's face. he pushes the bottles to the gion's chest. ] Here. Those are for you. [ spinning on his heel, he points forward. ] Onward! Follow the leader. [ on the way by tony picks up a tablet from his bedside table.
he leads them out the room, onto the veranda, and down the stairs that curve around to the back. the veranda continues along the cliff outside of the house's first story with one door connecting to the guest bedroom. a crystal-clear cyan, the pool itself is heated, suitable for use even in winter months (not that malibu really drops below 50 degrees), and lit under the water and around the patio perimeter. the far side of the pool sits level with the edge, ideal for laying one's arms on it while floating to watch the ocean and its horizon. the cliff below is all rock with green bushes sloping down into a sheer drop. a couple palm trees are planted on the slope. ]
Here we are. [ tony presents it with a sweep of his arm. ] A giant chlorinated tub to shed in to your heart's content. [ he sits with his tablet near the stair bottom, away from the water. ] Go ahead. Skinny-dip. It's seen worse.
[He stares in awe at the pool setup. Out of everything, this is the most ostentatious display of wealth he's seen (although the car collection is a close second). All of this, just for one guy? He can't believe it.
He carefully sets the bottles down at the edge of the pool before unwrapping the towel and stepping in. He wouldn't be too bothered even if the pool was unheated - it's still warmer than the underground springs he has to rely on at this time of year. He does, however, look a little surprised by the warmth, and his eyes close in sheer pleasure for a moment as the last of the chill from the plane is banished.]
Fancy, [is his only comment. He looks at the bottles - while he's familiar with concepts, he's never used things like liquid soap (which he assumes is what the body wash is) or shampoo before. He's pretty sure soap is soap, no matter what you call it.
In spite of his earlier comment, he actually does dunk his mane under the water, running his fingers through it so that the water penetrates the dense layers of fur. He glances over at Tony.]
You mind giving me a hand? I kinda got a lot of hair to wash here.
[ tony watches with a pleased smile the whole time. ] Sure. Lemme just pull up a dog-bathing tutorial real quick, [ he says and acts like he's browsing his tablet, mouth almost a V from holding back the shit-eating grin. ]
[He bares his teeth, and a quiet growl - not as loud as it would be if he was truly threatening - rumbles in his chest.]
Asshole.
[It's not something he likes, but he knows that Tony doesn't mean it as a real insult, that he hasn't been around him long enough to know how much he hates being treated like an animal. (He is an animal.)]
Off the top of my head? Collies. And pomeranians, [ tony lists without a beat missed, but he sets the tablet aside and stands. ] Same principle, right? [ rolling up his sleeves, he walks closer. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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once simba sits up, he'll see a mechanical wonder land: tony stark's home workshop. the crate sits in the garage, where there is a line of modern and classic cars, all shined to perfection. past them are rows of tables and desks covered in blue prints and drafting paper and various tools. in the back is heavy machinery for fabrication; and another desk, closer to a leisure area with a couch, a wall-mounted TV, and a kitchenette, looks like a command center with a semi-circle of computer monitors and keyboards. every surface of the workshop is organized chaos, from the tables to the walls with its pipes, metal cabinets, and multiple circuit boxes.
tony returns to the crate just when a robot-arm wheels over and beeps curiously at the gion. it reaches in without preamble to remove a gauntlet, mimicking tony's process. ] Already? [ he sighs at it. ] Shoo. I got this.
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There's some kind of automated arm picking up a gauntlet, and he assumes it's just a normal process, but Tony talks to it like it's a human being. He blinks slowly and carefully moves some of the armor off of himself.
Once he's out of the crate, he realizes just how filthy he is in comparison to his surroundings. It's not like he can help it, but he still feels ashamed of everything down to his pieced-together loincloth.]
Is- is there a tub I could use? [he asks awkwardly, clutching his pack to his chest. In that moment, his body language belongs to someone much smaller than he is.] And maybe an old bedsheet I could have? Doesn't have to be anything fancy.
[Although he's rapidly coming to suspect that everything Tony owns is fancy.]
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Yeah, [ he answers, breathless. ] Yeah, you wanna wear it like a toga? Toga party. Speakin' of, first, stand over here for me, please. [ walking backwards, he beckons the gion over to and points at a grid on the floor. ]
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Toga...party? [is all he has to offer as he stands in the grid. It's honestly about all he can get in edgewise with the way Tony talks.]
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[ while cyan lines of light flash up and down the gion, jarvis inquires, "shall i leave the note for ms. potts?" ]
No. Personal matter.
[ "voice recognition in progress." ]
[ tony smirks at the gion, eyes bright and exuberant. he acts similar to the reactor in his chest, energy crackling beneath a smooth, contained exterior. it bleeds out like radiation through his manic eyes. ] That's JARVIS. Say hi.
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[He blinks, tilts his head slightly.] Is there a two-way mirror in here? Where is he? He's your butler, right?
[Of course Tony has a butler. That just seems normal to him - he's rich, after all. Rich enough to fly whenever and wherever he wants, rich enough to own all those fancy cars. It's more wealth than he can possibly imagine.]
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Delay that, J. One hour. [ tony ushers simba off the grid and leads him through the workshop to the wall of glass windows and door, where a staircase lies in wait. he takes the steps two at a time, expecting to be followed. ] No, he's–well, sort of? He's my NLUI. AI, whatever. He's the smart part of a smart house. My own code. I named him after my old flesh-and-blood butler, Edwin Jarvis.
[ a wall fountain trickles into stones at the top of the staircase, which leads into a living room with more wide window walls, the pacific ocean at night beyond them. the decor is modern and sparse, a tasteful, elegant simplicity, mostly soft, neutral or earthen tones like white, beige, brown, and pastel green. spacious and open, the room sports a long sectional sofa (some of the couch pillows have fuzzy edges, oddly feminine for tony; same with the bowl of realistic white orchids on the wooden table) and squat, cushioned stools, with decorative nick-knacks like an electric guitar leaning against the wall and modern art statues strategically placed in corners or as centerpieces.
tony zooms right past it, by the fireplace and grand piano and bar and all, to the next level staircase right above. they'll be passing by a lot of sights like this, classical wealth with modern tastes. ] C'mon. We're headed to the pool.
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I don't need- [He breaks off in mid-sentence and shakes his head.] You probably don't have a tub big enough. [He remembers bathing in a tin washtub, being small and skinny enough to fit, knobbly knees sticking up out of the water. Sometimes he forgets how big he is.] Although I'm kinda surprised you don't, with everything else around here.
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So it's just you here?
[He knows it's just Tony - that's why it's safe to have him here - but he's having a hard time wrapping his brain around all this for just one person.]
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when simba asks his next question, tony easily vaults into the new topic. ] Yup. And now you! Well, Pepper's around during her work hours but you can avoid her by hangin' out in the guest area upstairs.
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We'll need soap, too, [he says suddenly.] And towels - I guess you probably have towels somewhere by the pool, though.
[Great, now he's hopping from topic to topic, too. It must be contagious.]
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tony disappears into another room off the side. if simba follows, he'll find the master bathroom and tony shifting through bottles. tony calls back, ] Feelin' anything in particular? I got black walnut, cedar, eucalyptus, peppermint oil...
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[And there are other reasons, but he's not going to delve into them right now. Instead, he follows Tony through the master bedroom and into the bathroom, and-]
I don't know?
[Scented soap is a luxury he's never been able to indulge in, and liquid soap is just bewildering, and he's not sure why anyone would want to smell like trees.]
Nothing overwhelming, [he adds. His sense of smell is sharper than a human's, and he doesn't want anything too strong.]
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There's, uh, not really any room for water. [Which is more or less the point of taking a bath, so that's probably not going to work. But while Tony's preoccupied with soap, he climbs out of the tub and sheds his loincloth, poking at the controls for the shower until he manages to produce a spray of water.]
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Fine, we can use the pool.
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[Look at how innocent his smile is, he's definitely not plotting anything at all.
(Plus, to be fair, he does feel like he needs more water to get clean.)]
I hope you have some bigger towels by the pool, though.
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he leads them out the room, onto the veranda, and down the stairs that curve around to the back. the veranda continues along the cliff outside of the house's first story with one door connecting to the guest bedroom. a crystal-clear cyan, the pool itself is heated, suitable for use even in winter months (not that malibu really drops below 50 degrees), and lit under the water and around the patio perimeter. the far side of the pool sits level with the edge, ideal for laying one's arms on it while floating to watch the ocean and its horizon. the cliff below is all rock with green bushes sloping down into a sheer drop. a couple palm trees are planted on the slope. ]
Here we are. [ tony presents it with a sweep of his arm. ] A giant chlorinated tub to shed in to your heart's content. [ he sits with his tablet near the stair bottom, away from the water. ] Go ahead. Skinny-dip. It's seen worse.
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[He stares in awe at the pool setup. Out of everything, this is the most ostentatious display of wealth he's seen (although the car collection is a close second). All of this, just for one guy? He can't believe it.
He carefully sets the bottles down at the edge of the pool before unwrapping the towel and stepping in. He wouldn't be too bothered even if the pool was unheated - it's still warmer than the underground springs he has to rely on at this time of year. He does, however, look a little surprised by the warmth, and his eyes close in sheer pleasure for a moment as the last of the chill from the plane is banished.]
Fancy, [is his only comment. He looks at the bottles - while he's familiar with concepts, he's never used things like liquid soap (which he assumes is what the body wash is) or shampoo before. He's pretty sure soap is soap, no matter what you call it.
In spite of his earlier comment, he actually does dunk his mane under the water, running his fingers through it so that the water penetrates the dense layers of fur. He glances over at Tony.]
You mind giving me a hand? I kinda got a lot of hair to wash here.
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Asshole.
[It's not something he likes, but he knows that Tony doesn't mean it as a real insult, that he hasn't been around him long enough to know how much he hates being treated like an animal. (He is an animal.)]
How many dogs with manes have you seen?
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