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[gotup]

action/text/pictures/whatever I'm easy

something less lazy coming in another two years

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[gotup]

[He shakes his head. It takes him a moment to get the cap off, but he manages with the roughened skin on his fingertips.]

Never liked the taste. And since it doesn't do anything for me, there's no real reason, I guess.

[myheartglows]

What if the reason is simple camaraderie? [ tony says with an imploring smile and his big eyes. he upturns his palms in supplication like come onnn, drinking's more enjoyable with a buddy. ]

[gotup]

[He can't hold out against that look, he discovers, and he acquiesces with a shrug.]

All right, fine, make me one of your martinis.

[myheartglows]

Attaboy, [ tony says, smirking softly. he mixes the drink with surprisingly little flourish. for all his talk, he's not playing the infamous party host tonight–just a guy making his buddy a drink. ]

[gotup]

So the brushstrokes-

[he gestures to the painting again. Come on, Tony, he agreed to a drink.]

The black lines don't have as many brushstrokes as the other parts of the painting - they're left to be simple and boring. The white parts, on the other hand, are constructed of layers of brushstrokes in different directions. It draws the eye and gives the painting a depth you wouldn't imagine from a simple canvas.

[myheartglows]

Huh, [ tony hums, idly stirring the mixture and ice and watching simba during his critique. he tilts his head toward the painting for a quick glance, because surprise, surprise, he hadn't noticed any of that, but it doesn't last long enough for him to have really taken anything in. instead, tony smiles again at the gion, a little coy. ] I guess I'm just naturally drawn to things with hidden depths. [ finished stirring, he taps the spoon on the rim–ting, ting–and holds simba's gaze for just a beat too long, until tony blinks, clears his throat, and reaches to prepare simba's glass, breaking the connection.

that was harmless. it's completely innocent to be feel drawn to someone you find interesting. simba is a lion-man who saved his life, after all. who wouldn't be drawn to someone like that? ]

[gotup]

[That feeling in the depths of his stomach tightens again for just a moment at Tony's smile - but he's just playing, he tells himself. He has to be.

Though it's not visible, he feels a blush warm his fur-covered cheeks, and when Tony breaks the look between them, he glances down and away shyly. His tail twitches restlessly around his ankles.]

You know what they say, opposites attract, [he quips, perfectly deadpan.]

[myheartglows]

Ouch. [ tony feigns hurt, wincing as he pours simba's martini and garnishes it with a chilled slice of lemon. ] But fair. I won't argue. [ the hurt look instantly replaced by his normal unmoved confidence, he pushes the glass across. ] Try to savor that, would you?

[gotup]

[He drops it readily enough - he has no intention of cruelly needling Tony - and takes the glass carefully, pinching the stem between thumb and forefinger. Instead of drinking like a human as he normally does, he laps at the glass with only the tip of his bright pink tongue. He's sure he looks ridiculous, but this is the easiest way for him to drink small quantities.]

So what am I supposed to be appreciating here?

[myheartglows]

Hidden depths. [ tony shoots him a cheeky, unapologetic grin. he sucks at the lemon slice, his cheeks hollowing, before he hooks it onto the glass he poured for himself. ]

[gotup]

[His gaze is drawn to the way Tony sucks on the lemon slice, the way his cheeks hollow, and-

He doesn't remember being attracted to men before, but that doesn't mean it isn't possible. Of course, it could just be because he's finding himself with any sort of companionship for the first time in decades, or because he finally has the leisure to focus on something other than surviving in the wilderness. Whatever the case, he just...doesn't want to think about it.]

Hm. [He's careful to keep any alcohol from sloshing over the rim as hs laps.] It's different, that's for sure.

[myheartglows]

[ glass in hand, tony hops up onto a stool next to simba and leans his elbows back on the counter. ] Sometimes I like it sweet. [ he takes a sip and then waves to the game tables. ] You play?

[gotup]

[He shakes his head no in response to Tony's question and licks up another drink.]

Afraid not. [He shrugs casually.] What's that? [His gaze lands on the video game cabinet, and he gestures to the unfamiliar furniture.]

[myheartglows]

My arcade corner. C'mon, I wanna play, [ tony says and claps simba on the back. even though he just sat down, he hops back off and approaches the rack of pool cues past the table. he holds one out. ] I'll teach you.

[gotup]

[He takes the pool cue from Tony and hefts it in one hand. The smooth, polished wood feels familiar, but the weight and size are off. He frowns slightly, leans past Tony to pick up the other cues. Unsurprisingly, none of them seem to have the balance he senses he needs, but he takes one anyway.]

Okay, what do I do?

[myheartglows]

[ tony scrunches his face at simba swapping cues, then frowns. he's never legitimately taught anyone how to play pool before, only "assisted" women with lining up their shots, guiding their arms from behind, in a ploy so obvious and old everyone knew it. how much is he expected to explain? ] Well, first off, you don't go swinging that thing like Babe Ruth. You thrust it.

[gotup]

Hey, I understood that reference.

[He looks pleased, because frankly, he doesn't get most of Tony's references and has to have JARVIS explain them later.]

Okay, so I thrust it into the balls?

[myheartglows]

But gently. They're sensitive. [ looking equally as pleased with himself, tony tips back more of his drink. ] Lemme finish this and I'll demonstrate. I should at least be tipsy to give you a chance.

[gotup]

[He just snorts at the innuendo and shakes his head.]

Go easy on me, it's my first time.

[myheartglows]

[ tony simply smiles mysteriously at him from above the glass. while he drinks, he explains that the white ball is what you thrust into the colored balls, of which there are two types: striped and solid. the goal is to sink all of your type into the table pockets, saving the black eight-ball for last. he explains more of the basic rules, all in his normal offhanded tone and wagging a finger around, succinct and without room for questions.

once he finishes, tony gulps down the remainder of his glass, says, ] Simple, right? [ and chalks up a cue. ] Now watch your sensei at work. [ he assumes the correct bridge and grip technique, bent over to line up his shot. ]

[gotup]

[Truth be told, he pays more attention to the way Tony bends over the table, the muscles of his shoulders, the dip of his bare back before the skin is hidden by his towel. (He really needs to get a grip on himself, he thinks.)]

Sounds easy enough, [and he tries to keep his tone light and casual. No sense in giving anything away.]

[myheartglows]

[ the muscles in tony's right arm bunch right before he thrusts the cue forward for the break. the balls collide, clacking and splitting apart, rolling across the table. tony watches his handiwork as the clacking and rolling winds down, his mind automatically mapping out distances and angles. ] Good. Your turn, [ he says. over his shoulder as he leaves the table to refill his drink, he adds, ] Don't scratch my table.

[gotup]

[He leans over the table, mimicking Tony's angle. His first attempt is too soft, and the cue doesn't hit the ball. Another try, and he learns that he needs to turn his hand slightly so that the cue slides over skin instead of fur, which makes the polished wood skid. Finally, he hits the ball, and watching it makes something click in the back of his mind. None of the colored balls go into the pockets, but he knows what to do next time.]

There. Your table's intact.

[myheartglows]

[ walking back, tony playfully points out, ] For now, [ and then the studies the table with his cue planted like a king with his scepter. he's no professional player, but his eye for geometry naturally places him ahead of the curve. by his quick calculations, he can easily pocket three balls in a row, provided he correctly applies the necessary physics. that application is where human error comes into play, hence the drinking to even the odds between them.

but he's not even tipsy yet and tony actually does want simba to have a good time, so... ] Why don't you take another crack at it? In fact, just keep going. We'll call this your practice round.

[gotup]

Okay.

[His smile is bland and innocuous, giving nothing away. But when he settles in to take his next shot, the angles line up in his mind. The position he takes is a bit odd - someone less experienced might assume that he'll only succeed in knocking the balls around a bit - but he eyes the cue ball for a moment, narrows his eyes, and proceeds to sink four balls in one shot.]

How's that?