Dancing the Rifts: spryforacapsicle ((Closed))
The Tower was eerily quiet for what was normally the busiest part of the day.
It was only about mid-way through a swelteringly hot August afternoon, and on a weekday, but all unnecessary personnel had been sent home... unofficially evacuated just to be on the safe side.
If there was a safe side, at this point.
Tony glanced out of the penthouse windows as he poured himself a drink, his expression uncharacteristically pensive. The atmosphere outside was very nearly oppressive, some almost intangible pressure lingering fitfully over the city, leaving even the most insensitive of her citizens restless and irritable.
There had been more random brawls in the past month than in the entire two years prior, and even the police themselves hadn't proven themselves immune, fistfights between officers breaking out often enough that even the threat of a lockdown hadn't kept them from mention in the local newspapers.
Nor had such tension been avoided entirely between the Tower's permanent residents, though at least having the entirety of such an expanse to roam did help matters more than a little.
Tony and Bruce had never had a problem, even now, and everyone had known instinctively to stay the fuck away from Natasha until whatever the hell this was had passed. Clint had pretty much degenerated into monosyllabic responses and lurking in the vents, but he hadn't been all that far from that in the first place, to be honest.
And Steve, well. He'd been called back a few days prior from his pilgrimage across America, or whatever bizarre patriotic bonding ritual it was he had been working for the past couple of months.
Unsurprisingly, Tony himself knew more than a little about avoidance maneuvers... hell, he'd really kind of patented his own style with Pepper before all of that shit had rolled downhill about a month after the Chitauri clusterfuck. But Steve? Still didn't quite have him figured out. But if he were honest with himself-- which admittedly, was not his strong point-- he really sort of wanted to.
"Sir?" JARVIS spoke into the silence then, drawing him abruptly from his thoughts, "Captain Rogers has arrived, shall I send him in?"
"Yeah, go for it," Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to set it to order. "Supposedly Thor should be back any time now, according to Dr. Foster's report. Any update on Nat and Clint?"
"Not as of yet, I'm afraid," the AI replied, his lightly accented tone managing to hold a subtle hint of concern. "I'm monitoring the appropriate channels, but they appear to be on full blackout at the moment."
"Noted. Keep me updated." Tony heard the doors slide open and he neatly refilled his glass without looking before reaching for another tumbler. "What can I get you to drink, Cap? Not gonna lie, I make a mean Shirley Temple."
