Apocalypse How: IC Inbox

[worthallthis]

There is no message, just a beep. Better hope you have the right number.

Comments

[fightinginfinity]

Oh look at Mr. Fancy Pants Starbucks Order over here. [ Tony manages a snort of laughter at that, because it's unexpected and that's funny. ] Sorry, all's I got is Half & Half and a buttload of sugar, that okay by you, High Roller?

[ Ok, coffee time. First Tony sets about fixing a cup for Barnes with all the accoutrements, handling it with care, and then he serves himself. Which just means he fills a mug with straight coffee, downs it in almost a single gulp, then fills it again. He's halfway through the second cup when he turns to Barnes, handing him his mug once the guy's done sweeping. ]

You can set the broom wherever. [ Don't hand him things. Tony does hand over the cup, though. ] Here's your joe. Don't expect a whole lot, it's just Folgers. And I was kidding about the hard tack.

[ Mental note, go easy on the sarcasm with this guy. And the flirting. ]

[worthallthis]

You asked. I'll take what you have, it's fine. I don't expect most people to have cocoa to add to their coffee.

[He returns the broom to where Tony got it from, because of course he was paying attention to that, and dumps the shards of mug into the trash before accepting the coffee.

He holds it with both hands a moment, as if taking in the warmth of it. Though the metal one doesn't really read heat the same way as the flesh one, so it's a familiar comparison of data in his brain.]

Even the instant stuff here. Is better than some coffee I've had. It smells good, either way. Thank you.