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bigapplesauce2013-08-10 12:55 am
How Tony Stark Became Tony Stark [Open]
Say what you will about Tony Stark (go ahead – say it. Hell, $20 if you can come up with something he hasn't heard before because chance are, whatever you're thinking someone's already said, held a news conference on it, translated it into six or seven different languages, and had it printed up on the front page of the next day's news) but the man is not stupid. Egotistical, arrogant, self involved, inappropriately cavalier, know-it-all,ego – did he mention egotistical yet? Well, there is enough of that to list twice. He is pretty amazing, after all. Or narcissistic, as some people would put it.
In fairness he's only like that because he's so fucking brilliant. Or, you know, maybe he's just a jerk that happens to be good at physics but the end result is pretty much the same.
Tony Stark is not dumb, but go ahead and say it. Run negative ads on how this guy is nothing more than a flashy playboy who inherited his father's company. Reassure the board that they have nothing to worry about from a second generation millionaire whose biggest accomplishment to date was getting drunk enough to get his ass thrown out of his own twenty first birthday. Watch all the E! Live reporters that follow him around waiting for the show off moment that they all know is coming because Tony just can't resist and tell yourself that you'll have no trouble beating this brat at the company game. He's probably never done a days work in his life.
The first few months after his parents' deaths but before he actually acquired control of Stark Industries, Obadiah would bring these articles and report on the talk going around all saying the same thing and it drove Tony ballistic. He would hide away in his parents' mansion, sitting in his old lab in the dark just pouting. He'd pace the floors for five, six hours with a snarl and – okay, yeah, generally he acted just like the spoiled kid that everyone claimed. But, hey, he was just a kid (well, sort of) and, hello, his parents had just passed away so it's not like he didn't have a reason to go all woe is me, Hamlet level angst. Maybe crashing like, four irreplaceable classic cars in under two weeks and refusing to eat for days on end was going a little overboard, but Tony's always been a bit theatrical, ya know?
The day that Tony officially inherited his father's business and added CEO to his resume the rest of the tech sector was circling like sharks. Picture it: poor, innocent Tony all young and helpless, treading the dark waters of... Okay, fine, so it was nothing like that. More like poor, not-so-innocent Tony naked in his yacht’s hot tub surrounded by beautiful women and with a cocktail in hand, but just because he was safe aboard a million dollar boat didn't make the waters any safer. Rumor had it that some of the other big CEOs had a running bet on how long it'd be before the golden child fell. Most of them Tony knew on a first name bases. They may have been the competition, but they'd always respected Howard Stark.
His son, that's a whole different story.
He held a news conference partly because that's what is done but mostly because Tony loves having all eyes on him. He wore a fucking fabulous suit worth more than the entire audiences' combined. He didn't go on about his dad or responsibility to anything like that. Actually, he talked about how he was looking forward to all the award ceremonies and made some bad joke about how he was going to take the weapon's division and “blow them all away”. Everyone laughed and applauded and loved it; Tony always knew how to give the people what they wanted.
Then he went into the company labs, he changed into something not the monetary equivalent of a small private island, and he told all the employees hey, guys, why don't you go on. Take a break. Let the new kid handle the work today.
Looking back, probably everyone there figured this would be the last day they'd actually have their jobs. That's the kind of crash and burn everyone was expecting. In fairness, it's Tony Stark. He probably only knows 'Jobs' from industry galas.
At the time, though, Tony figured he was just being an extra cool boss. I mean, who wants to work when you could be out living life, right? Not like they were really doing anything that important, and no one wants to be stuck inside with a computer all day.
It ended up taking seventeen days, but when Tony emerged from the labs and headed up to his first big board meeting still wearing his jeans and Black Sabbath Tee he brought with him a whole new level of “smart” tech. In seventeen days Tony Stark went from being a bad bet to the guy everyone was scrambling just to keep in view.
Turns out that while Tony might be just a little self-absorbed (okay, he was the fucking Downy Quilt Paper Towels of self-absorbtion) he actually managed to learn a trick of two from the old man, not too mention the multiple Ph.D. Programs he'd completed.
So not to brag, but that's exactly what this is. Some people might find it in bad taste to be this shamelessly in love with yourself, but when you're Tony Stark it's really hard not to be. He is, after all, the kid that rocked the tech world, the CEO of a company that practically owned the military for almost nine straight years and, oh yeah, in case it even needs mentioning: a fucking super hero. There is no where in the world, no corner in the deadest parts of Siberia, where people don't recognize Tony Stark.
Which had been the first real sign that something had gone absolutely wrong.
Four and a half years. Seven months if you want to be really precise about it. That is how long it took for Tony to recover, and he doesn't just mean with the company although, yeah, putting that together took up a good chunk of his time. To be honest, Tony always figured that his surprise success had been entire, 100% due to his own genius and, when you look at it from Tony's point of view it makes perfect sense. He's the one who came up with the new technology, who drove the company hard in the new direction of “smart” weapons and picked up all those contracts with the Pentagon. Sure, the paper's still mostly chose to report on his playboy life style but could he help that he's so irresistible? The point is, he put in the work. The new era of Stark Industries, that had all been based around his ideas and his hard work.
Looking back, it's kind of amazing what all he took for granted. Like, oh, the little fact that he inherited an already up and running billion dollar company. You know, the small things.
Then one day he decides, hey, you know what sounds great? A fucking chia tea latte. For the record, Tony hates chai tea lattes. He has a reoccurring dream where he manages to buy out all the chai tea in the world and convinces NASA to rocket blast that bitch right into the sun. You know, for science (and sweet, refreshing revenge). As far as Tony is concerned, chai tea lattes are kind of like a more evil version of – Wait, no, he can't even think of something to compare them to and that's including alien invasions and that one Thanksgivings where he thought it'd be a kind gesture to invite all of Pepper's family to his place. Chai tea latte's are worse than Uncle Myron's “Ice Dog Rapper” impression, that's what Tony is getting at.
See from what he remembers he'd just moved all of his non-charred stuff from his no longer standing Miami abode to what the news had taken to calling “The Avenger's Towers” - Speaking of which... Jesus, it's like you do the world a favor, let a few “super heroes” act as your sidekicks and suddenly you're this official team with a tower and everything? They realize that despite the damaging it's still Stark Tower, still fully belongs to Tony. Do you see Captain America ponying up for repairs or Hawkeye helping pay the taxes on that place? No? Yeah, that's because it's not their tower, isn't it? And let's say they were less of an assembled group of government approved science experiments and more an actual team. Why would they make their secret team base in the middle of New York with a giant A embolden on the side? That's like asking some crazy nut job with a gamma ray or some shit to come and blow the place up. Hello? Telling the villains exactly where you live is sort of Tony's “thing”, alright? Just, I mean, come on people...
Anyway, sorry, it's just a thing because it's not really “their” tower and, you know what, it's not even important anymore. Like really not important because after the hard moving got done (putting Dummy in his new home and making sure he couldn't actually touch any part of it) Tony decided, hell, he'd earned himself something nice and refreshing. Okay, plus maybe Pepper had mentioned there was this new little coffee shop that just got built after the recent alien attacks and all the beverages were Avenger themed and the wall was like an ode to The Hulk and maybe Tony was thinking of checking it out and seeing how embarrassingly pathetic it was and, assuming it past the test, dragging (physically, if need be) Bruce there one day just to watch his face. God, that would so be worth it. So that is all he had on his mind right then: grab a chai tea latte and do recon on possible humiliating places to take his new best beastie buddy.
He doesn't remember feeling anything particularly off but, then, you could be exposed to a huge amount of radiation and feel perfectly normal with no idea about how your brand new tumor was making friends with your testicles. So it was something of a surprise when Tony got to the counter (after taking pictures of the aforementioned Hulk wall on his phone because this was just priceless – no way he's not turning this into Bruce's screen saver), placed his order and heard something he'd never heard before. Not once in his life.
"Sir, are you alright?"
Wait, no, Tony has actually heard that one more than enough, although usually the person doesn't address him as "sir" and typically it's Pepper and she tends to word it more like, "what the hell is wrong with you?" but, you know, the gist of it's the same. Oh, probably need to mention that the barrister only asks that because for some reason Tony is passed out on the floor which is weird but no where near as weird as what gets said when he actually gets around to ordering.
“I'm sorry sir, you're cards been declined.”
That's when Tony knew. He didn't have, you know, any idea what it was he knew, but he knew it was wrong. If the latte incident hadn't been proof enough (or, you know, the whole suddenly passing out thing that happened right before) turning around certainly did the trick.
Suddenly the walls were more college “artsy” than super hero awesome. New York was more constructed than how he left it and, oh, yeah, there was no tower: Stark or Avenger.
It turns out that whatever happened in that moment ripped Tony right out of his comfort zone and threw him into some weird parallel universe where New York had never been attacked, the Avenger's never happened and – this is the big one – no one had any clue about some random guy named Tony Stark.
That had been four years and seven months ago, and if Tony thought that his seventeen first days had been hard or the time back in the Afghan cave punishment it was nothing compared with building a company from scratch. It would have given him a new found respect for his father if Howard Stark was still a person who existed. Turns out, going from a no body on the street to the CEO of a respectable tech company is not as easy as Tony would have expected. Jesus Christ, how did guys like Hammer do it? He didn't even have a fucking brain in that head of his. Tony's knowledge and technology where leaps and bounds above anything else he'd seen on the ground here and it still took all his time just so he could get his life back up and running close to normal.
Or he would given juuuuust a few more minor adjustments and a couple power checks and --- There.
“AI systems booting up,” a very harsh, mechanical voice informed the room. “JARVIS program online and running.”
“Oh, thank you God – I'm a genius!” Tony can't help the smile or throwing his arms up for a victory spin of the chair. Four and a half years of building his tech in apartments and selling the idea to backers and fighting board members, all for this sweet, sweet moment. “JARVIS?”
The voice spun slightly, going from the default to a more refined, familiar accent. “Yes, sir.”
Tony punches the air. God, it feels good to be brilliant. He really should have someone to share this with. I mean, sure, back where he came from – the “not so fucking weird” Earth as he fondly calls it – he built JARVIS all the way back in his college years but back then he had all the time in the world. Now, now look at all he'd done with his life. Definitely there should be more people celebrating how amazing he is right now.
Fortunately, he had at least one privileged guest that would get to hear all about it. “Oh, JARVIS, buddy, you have no idea what I've been through!” Tony sighs, throwing his head back somewhat dramatically but still wearing that fucking smile because just look at him. Jesus Christ, he even surprised himself with just how good he could be and considering how high Tony holds himself in his own regards, that's damn impressive. “I had to live in an apartment with a roommate. I haven't had to share with a roommate since... ever, actually, and this guy was just – seriously, it's not healthy to have that kind of obsession with Disney Stars, it's just not. Oh, and it was two years before they let me back into Masa's without a reservation.”
The computer banks give off a slight humming noises, like it's trying to think. That's weird. Sure, it use to do that back when he'd first constructed the program and occasionally still when energy sources are drained but just sitting here in the newly constructed Stark Towers, JARVIS should have more than all the power he needs. “Mr. Stark, my records are showing that you do not enjoy the cuisine at Masa's.”
Well, damn. Tony straights himself out in the chair, a bit more on the annoyed side now. It's too formal, too unfamiliar. Sure, this JARVIS hasn't had as much time with Tony and only knows the bits and pieces of Tony's life he had been able to remember to physically code in, but it's still a disappointment. He'd really been looking forward to having JARVIS back...
Which made him feel like an idiot, a feeling Tony despised. He shook his head, brushing the feeling away and turning back to the computer banks. It's not like it's something he can't fix. He's Tony Stark for fuck's sake. “That – that's not the point, JARVIS,” he mutters, maybe sort of pouting expect that forty something owners of top ranking tech companies do not pout when they can't get their cutting edge AI program to call them by their first name and already know all their favorite sports team. “The point is, they didn't even know me enough to get all annoyed that I was there just to roll my eyes at their food and order in from McDonald's. They wouldn't even let me in. Do you have any idea what that's like?”
“I am sorry, sir, but you have not programmed me to-”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” This time, Tony's sigh is just... Well, he can't brush it off quite as easily this time, that's all. But then, he's been up here for nearly a week just working on the JARVIS program. His board is wondering where he is, his team of assistants texting every hour or so to try and lure him out. Maybe he just needs a bit of a break. Some sunshine, fresh air, not a fucking chai tea latte. “So, uh, listen, JARVIS, I'm going to go out for a while, right?” He's not entirely sure if this JARVIS cares or not. Technically the other JARVIS never did, really, but that's not – that's really not what's important here. Tony scoots himself across the room, reaching into one of his desks and pulling out his MP3 player. “While I'm gone I want you to listen to this. ALL of this, right? And try and... I don't know.” He hates that, admitting that he's not even sure what he's doing. There's definitely some resign to the whole act even as he plugs the player into JARVIS computer banks.
“Of course, sir.” JARVIS replies, and that sounds kind of right, doesn't it? Yeah, definitely what the other JARVIS would say. Maybe a little time and Iron Maiden is just what his system needs.
Kind of like Tony's systems could probably use a burger. “Just keep going through it,” he tells the computer, patting it on the screen as he gets up, grabbing his sunglasses and wallet on his way out the door. “Even if it annoys you. No, wait, especially if it annoys you.”
“As a computer program, I cannot -”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves goodbye, letting the door close over JARVIS's answer. Well, okay, so that hadn't been the most successful first attempt but it had been something, right? It's definitely JARVIS, Tony tell himself, just need a little time to accumulate to one another. Then it's all be--
Exactly like it is now, only with JARVIS. Tony winces, nothing to do with the bright sunlight he's stepping out into (okay, maybe a little something – jees, he really has to stop with this whole temporary hermit act he's got going on). So far all his plans have revolved around making himself as comfy in this new setting as possible which, in Tony's case, means being the billionaire genius behind a leading tech company and having his own personal AI system to keep him from going insane alone in the labs. What he hasn't got around to is anything that will actually fix whatever the hell got broken and sent him here. He isn't even sure what did it in the first place, because in all honest it probably wasn't his choice in beverages.
A few feet outside the tower a little newsstand is set up. Tony doesn't miss the copy of Wired – handsome smile like that kind of draws the eye. “See, Tony,” he tells himself, staring at the magazine a beat to long. He remembers that photo shoot, which is weird. He use to do them so often they all sort of blurred together. But it's nice to have proof that he's back at the top, King Of The Technophiles as the magazine helpfully reminds him. “Doesn't matter where the universe drops you, you're always Tony Stark.”
His stomach drops. Probably just hunger. That's enough thinking for today, really. Probably he's done more in the last few hours than most people fit in their life time, he's earned a break.
"Now," Tony announces to absolutely no one. He's really too way use to hearing his own voice. "Where can a billionaire genius get a decent burger around here?"
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The man next to Tony is quite a bit taller than him, wearing a blue suit, converses, and a badass longcoat, and is not looking at him. He's looking at the magazines on display.
The Doctor's been here for two months now, and has spent most of the time so far getting into trouble. He almost feels like he's running out of trouble to get into. He probably isn't, but he's usually restless, wanting to run off and explore somewhere that isn't Manhattan. Not that Manhattan isn't great, but it's just one tiny little island.
Also, both Romac and the rebels get really fussy if you start poking into their business, and the Doctor hasn't decided they're too much of a problem to be worth meddling with yet. Plus, he doesn't want to draw their attention too strongly. The TARDIS is a lot more vulnerable than usual, stuck here and depowered just like he is, and he'd rather not get her into trouble. Even if they've been making allies to help them out.
Still, what he hasn't been doing much yet is pay attention to the news. But it's occurred to him that it might be a good way to snoop out funny business, so he can get his kicks putting an end to it. Even if most of the time, it's petty, human business. Every now and then, he'll get something rift-related, someone who's fell through and is causing trouble. (Honestly, Romac should be paying him for keeping the streets clean of alien no-gooders. Although he lets the alien DO-gooders alone.) But there's no alien interference native to this universe, which is honestly kind of boring. Or perhaps New York is just closed off from outsiders, just as it closes the rifties in. Could be.
Anyway, the point is, he doesn't actually know Tony. But when someone proclaims themselves a billionaire genius (and seems to actually mean it, because people do say a lot of weird stuff on the street), he tends to pay attention. Especially when his eyes then catch on the cover with the man's face.
"Hey, look at that, guess you probably are a genius billionaire," he says, picking up the magazine. He fishes out some money (Money, he has to carry money now!) and gives it to the newsstand guy, before rejoining Tony, flipping through the magazine.
"Come on, I'll show you, they do a great cheeseburger, you know, proper New York style. One of the best I've tasted. Well, in this universe, anyway."
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Plus he has that whole science prodigy thing going for him so he's allowed. Anyone who has devised a way to generate a safe, clean source of energy soon to be efficient enough to replace the majority of current nonrenewable fuels by 2023 all based off a single piece of ancient technology accidentally left behind when some Nordic alien had to leave our dimension in a hurry would tell you, genius works best when it's got an audience, and typically Tony is the only one around smart enough to appreciate just how brilliant he is being. One of the main reasons he'd invented JARVIS the first time around had been out of desperation for someone who could listen to Tony without getting lost two sentences in (other reasons included pure boredom, an abundance of time on his hands, and, predictably, being a fifteen year old show off). Add in his need for attention, reporters swarming around him desperate for some good quotes, and an ego that assumes most everyone could only benefit from listening to him go on about whatever, it isn't hard to see how Tony developed this little habit of his.
You know, after forty years of talking to himself you wouldn't think it would catch Tony off guard when someone actually answers. But, whoa, does it ever.
First thing, Tony checks over the man because it's possible he's just some homeless bum cursing to himself or whoever happens to be passing by. Turns out, that's a stable in both versions of New York! It's all part of the city's charm, probably you couldn't even legally call it New York unless you had at least one guy on a corner yelling at people about the end of the world and fuck you, welcome to Manhattan. However, unless the bums of this universe have access to dry cleaners and lots of hair product, that probably isn't the case here. Which means this guy might actually have been answering Tony.
The stranger - and we're going to go ahead and emphasize the strange part of that until such a time that he can prove otherwise, which Tony truly doubts - definitely answered him, right? Unless someone else had been asking about food at the exact same moment and, honestly, Tony doesn't give that possibility too much weight since it means acknowledging other people; not one of his strong suits. Anyway, why bother answering a rhetorical question if you're then going to stand there with your nose stuck in the news stand.
This is probably the part where Tony could smoothly make an escape, but that also seems like the sort of thing other people would do, and typically speaking what other people would do is boring. So instead Tony stands and waits, and not patiently, either. He watches the other man just over the top of his sunglasses, arms crossed and foot actually tapping at the sidewalk. It takes, oh, three seconds for Tony to get bored with this little act and opens his mouth to say something.
"Hey, look at that," the stranger just cuts Tony off, pulling one of the copies of Wired off the rack. "Guess you probably are a genius billionaire. Come on, I'll show you, they do a great cheeseburger, you know, proper New York style. One of the best I've tasted. Well, in this universe, anyway."
For a moment Tony's emotions slide between annoyed (four and a half years) and curious. He cocks his head giving a small, half grin as the stranger steps by with the magazine in hand (at least he's shown some sign of good taste) and Tony's still not entirely sure which way he's leaning here.
"Yeah, no offense," Tony stuffs his hands into his pockets and settles on a more easy smile. Not friendly, but, well, definitely a Tony sort of smile. "But if I'm picking up a tour guide to New Yorks Greatest Burgers, I'm probably going to go with someone a little more local. But, hey, if I need directions to the nearest fake American pub or Harry Potter exhibit I'll be sure and call you up."
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"Granted, New York, especially this New York, isn't my speciality. Though you could probably quiz me New New New New York, that one's really good, though it's quite a few years off yet. Which, I suppose, means you probably can't quiz me on it, but... Ah!" he rambles as he digs through his pockets, pulling out several objects one after one (a ball of string, a handheld spectroradiometer, a toy dinosaur, three objects that look distinctly alien and probably aren't recognisable, and a tiny particle collider that should be recognisable if somewhat beyond even Tony's time), before he finally finds his glasses and puts them on. He slips the stuff right back into his pocket without the slightest bulge showing in his coat.
"Come on," he adds again, giving Tony an elbow nudge and starting to walk, now buried in the magazine. "Blah blah blah, oh nice, haven't seen one of those in a while, though honestly it'd be more effective if you removed the stabilisers, there's better ways."
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You know how people say there's a thin line between genius and insanity. That's utter bullshit. If you've ever seen someone go truly insane, and thanks to Tony's temporary run as a fully costumed super hero he'd gotten up close and personal with plenty of personalities that thought they were insane geniuses. The operative word being "thought" because the truth is when you hit that point on the crazy scale you lose all sight of what needs to get done and you jut go coo-coo. Genius, you know, actually does stuff even if it's just from time to time to keep from getting too bored.
Pretty sure this one is just crazy. Not like Loki crazy but your typical Earth bound crazy. Maybe a little better dressed than your typical specimen (although, really, who wears a blue suit and red converses? I mean, what is this? If he taps his heels together three times can he go back home?) but crazy all the same.
Tony keeps a weary eye on the suited stranger as he empties his pockets of quite the collection. This has to be the weirdest form of hording Tony's ever seen. All of it's random, some of it's the sort of thing you imagine crazy people just pick up off the sidewalk, some of it is just strangely shaped and fancy looking junk as far as Tony can tell and is that - no, couldn't be. That wouldn't even be possible, so clearly not.
Oh, God, maybe it's spreading. Maybe whatever this poor guy has, Tony is going to catch it and soon he'll be dressed like a hipster detective answering people who talk to themselves. Jesus Christ this is what he gets for leaving the labs.
And Tony is this close to excusing himself and going back to his place and taking a nice hot shower when the other guy, he says, "though honestly it'd be more effective if you removed the stabilisers, there's better ways." And just like that Tony's interest is piqued. Damnit.
He turns around, trying to get a look at what exactly the guy is reading about without actually needing to see the page at all. He does invent most of the products that come out of Stark Industries and, besides, he remembers this interview pretty well. Cute little red head (he's always like red heads, ever since Sarah Danvers in the third grade) who could have been a fucking wunderkind in journalism, for all Stark knew, but there's no way that she'd stepped inside an engineering class in her life. Which is fine because, again, Tony enjoyed flirting with her over dinner and then called his assistant and made sure someone contacted Wired, got a copy of the interview before it came out, and have one of the interns go over it so that Tony doesn't sound like a bubbly social science major by proxy. He might have kicked ass and forced his way up in the industry but four short years doesn't give him enough history to risk that sort of image problem. Take all the pictures of him naked in a hot tub full of playboy bunnies that the press can print, that's all part of Tony being Tony, but he's not going to look like an idiot because some tipsy reporter got his science all wrong.
Science that he's now having to defend to Dorothy here. "Sure," Tony answers in that way where you can hear the eye roll in his tone. "If you like your satellites doing their best Harlem Globetrotter's impression than go on, remove the stabilizers. Me? I have a preference for not blasting millions of dollars into space and hoping it comes out spinning the right way." There is so much wrong with this. For starters, no way this guy knows what he's talking about. He's probably just picking words from the article at random and got lucky there, that's all. Technically it's in the realm of possibility even if, okay, even Tony has to admit it's unlikely.
But he's not backing down just yet. It's not that Tony can't admit when he's wrong - he's had to do so plenty of times to Pepper that he's pretty well practiced, and when it comes to science, well, if you have the facts staring you in the face there's no point pouting at them. Tony can totally admit when he's wrong.
He just isn't, that's all.
Second, God, is he following the crazy guy now? He is, and is that really one of his better decisions. It isn't one of his worst but that's really not saying much. Okay, so yeah he's walking with the guy now. But only until he calls him out on this whole "getting what Tony's talking about" act. Tony could make up a list of people that actually understand him when it comes to engineering and physics, and it wouldn't even take a full screen in his phone's contacts.
Also, not that the stranger needs to know this, but if he were desperate or drunk enough, launching a million dollar satellite into space without any special stabilizing or GPS equipment as an "experiment" just to see what would happen is exactly the kind of shit he use to pull, back when he had all the funds in the world.
"Trust me," Tony adds, and yeah he sounds cocky as hell but he's sort of got the right to on this occasion. "I know something about launching yourself into space."
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"No, see, if you just boost the auxiliary dampeners and invert the singularities, calibrate the power to avoid fluctuations in this region here, and any anomalies will sort themselves out," he explains, pointing at one of the pictures. "You save a lot of weight, and thereby fuel, and building expenses, and it's less likely to break."
What was that about launching things into space? The Doctor rolls up the magazine and stuffs it into his pocket, again without his coat showing any indication of it. This smile is not at all a gloating one. Not even slightly, nope.
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That actually gets Tony's attention, and he ends up less annoyed than he is intrigued. "Here, let me see that." Tony doesn't really wait for an answer, but then he hadn't really been asking so much as already swiping the magazine right as the man is putting it away. It's a good thing he didn't bother changing, he's got a pen somewhere in the back of his jeans. Fishing it out he pops it open, lid in mouth, and start scratches out some numbers next to the image they've printed up.
"Just for the record, this is a rather simplified image of the full designs," he mutters around the pen lib, still at work sketching out some equations until the page probably has more of Tony's notes on it than actual printed word. Well, that raises the intellectual value of this report by at least 130%. "This one looks a lot flashier and, well, couldn't exactly stick the grey construction model on the same page as this smile."
"Damn," Tony sticks the pen back in his pocket, rolling the magazine up and passing it back to the stranger. "That might actually work. And I didn't think of it. That's almost impressive." It is still mainly Tony's work, of course, so he's not ready to be entirely impressed but, goddamnit, he is. "So what'd you say your name was again?" Tony holds out his hand, not really a formal greeting but at least he's making some attempt at being politeish. "More importantly, where are you working? Because I've met the team at NASA and they're nice enough for government boys, but let's be honest, those guys haven't been entirely relevant since, well, since the moon. Stark Industries is just getting started in the space arena and already we're blowing past those guys. Trust me, if you're looking to carve your name on Mars you're going to want to be with Stark Industries."
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He takes Tony's hand and smiles politely until he's finished. Clearly he likes to hear the sound of his own voice, but that isn't particularly shocking.
"Oh, I'm over at the good Team TARDIS. Very small group. You've probably never heard of us, we keep below the radar. Great boss though, she's lovely," he answers straight-faced. He wonders if he should give some sort of warning regarding Mars, but leaves it be. (Who knows if there even are Ice Warriors in this universe?)
"You can call me the Doctor," he adds. "Although I do sometimes... consult, if you'd like an outsider's view." He wouldn't mind playing with Tony's toys.
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"What kind of doctorate is that exactly?" Tony asks with a raised eyebrow. "Witness Protection?" Okay, so the guy might be one of those few people that actually walked that fine line between crazy and genius - well, let's not jump ahead. He has shown to have one trick up his sleeve. Anyone can figure out the most efficient way to create enough boost in a space launch while also keeping everything from the dreaded death spin if they do nothing else. For all Tony knows, this guy has spent his entire life on a similar project but couldn't do basic graph theory.
All the same, Tony makes sure to get a mental note on that name: TARDIS. He'll have to catch the out when he gets back to the office. Maybe they have some projects worth looking into. He said they were a small start up, right? Tony's gotten some of his best talent by buying these small, off the grid teams and pulling them into Stark Industries. He doesn't feel any guilt over it; he gets the talent, they get the resources to actually put their skills to use. It really is an everybody wins type of scenario, at least from the perspective of the guy whose company continues to lead in the industry.
Now Tony's head is in business setting and he's actually thinking like a CEO and not a tinkerer. Tony may not be the star he'd been back home, but he's recognizable and his company more so (kind hard to miss the tower - don't think the impressively egotistical design is any accident). He steps out of the office and happens to run into some suit who pretends he's never heard of Tony but claims to be in the industry and, without prompting, managed to solve the energy verses stabilization problem he's had his space-tech team working on for the last few months. That's an awful lot of coincidence.
Tony sticks his hands into his pockets, stride getting a little more cocky. "Okay, ruby slippers, you have my attention," he admits, staring at the strange with a mix of curiosity and the over confidence of someone who has everything figured out. "But first, you promised me a burger, and since I'm no longer powered by Stark Tech I'm going to need some food."
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"It's just around there," the Doctor answers, pointing to the next corner - closer now since they've been walking. He's not exactly sure what he should be getting Tony's attention for. Although if he proves trustworthy, perhaps he can help with repairing the TARDIS.
"And, weell... Medicine, temporal physics, warp matrix engineering, transcendental engineering, recreational mathemathics, cheese-making..."
It's probably better to simply assume the Doctor lies a lot, rather than that he's crazy. Though both are probably true. Still, it's easier to just go along with him. He doesn't have a grand plan (well, this version of him generally doesn't), and it was actually a coincidence.
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Hell, assuming the loosest definition of 'dating' possible it's looking like Tony has a better chance of being the truthful one here.
Tony's finger is shuffling ideally through various phone function while he tries to work out exactly what the fuck he's doing bothering with this when those pictures he'd taken back at the coffee shop flicker over his screen. Maybe it's seeing the Hulk's big ugly face roaring at him from someone's panicked snapshot but it gets under his skin in a way Tony doesn't like. This guy he's walking with might be good at dodging questions, but Tony's the master of avoidance when it comes to anything bordering on emotional.
He pulls up the lab' computer systems without thinking about it; it's more of a reflex than an honest attempt to take his mind off the subject. “Hey, JARVIS, how's that music education coming?” Tony might be the only person on the planet who, when thrown off balance, finds the most comforting solution to be calling up a self-programed AI.
“Of the 23.84 gigabytes of music stored on the drive, I have had time to process less than 1%.” It's not exactly sarcastic, but Tony feels like it might have a bit of a contemptuous edge to it which is a step in the right direction. “However, I have accessed my memory banks and located a file in which you have included your opinion of the bands features as well as other aspects of popular culture. Would you like me to relay that information?” Tony winces, and in the back of his head he feels a little embarrassed for poor JARVIS. It isn't his fault he hasn't had twenty odd years to be tweaked to perfection.
“JARVIS, if I wanted you to act like a parrot I'd buy a bird. Or even cheaper, I'd just keep an intern locked in the lab.” Tony sighs, feeling a pounding right behind his eyes. He's still following this guy to a restaurant, right? They better have some sort of bar available. Food is quickly becoming a second priority here. “Alright, new plan, just set yourself to hibernate and I'll fix this when I get back to the office.”
“Very well, sir.” The blue glow from his phone faded down as JARVIS's interface entered into sleep mode. Well, that experiment had been a complete an utter failure.
“I've decided. I don't care if you're a fucking lunatic or that kid from punk'd or just honestly...” Tony gave a little wave to indicate that he's not even sure how to fill in the blank. “If this place has half decent hamburgers and a bar, I'm buying.”