sixthiterationlogs | [ MINGLE ] FORGE AFTER HOURS

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[ MINGLE ] FORGE AFTER HOURS

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: South Village Forge
WHEN: January 8th
OPEN TO: Smitherns (Thor, Brigitte, Annie Cresta, Siefer), Plus Ones, Passers by, and Friends! Anyone, really, come on down.
WARNINGS: Language, discussion of canon typical violence probably, drinking?

THE HEARTH

With the bulk of the work and chores done for the day, the heart's banked down to a tolerable level rather than steel meltingly hot, positively cozy. Tables are cleared of metal filings and shavings, the floor is swept, extra chairs and seating or overturned crates serve as places to kick back and enjoy the warmth. A large kettle of tea is kept brewing all night, another of coffee, and a jug of cool water for those thirsty with no real requirement RE flavor. There's a rack for coats and scarves when people don't need to be quite so bundled up, and space cleared enough for milling about, tossing ideas back and forth, or simply relaxing. Arguments happen at The Debate Wall, not by the fire.

THE FOOD

It's an eclectic spread- a pot of stew, some crusty bread, frittatas, a few large, simple cheese pizzas, bottles of wine, and whatever other food the Smitherns or their Plus Ones chose to bring. It's a bit of a potluck, food spread out on one table for perusal, plates waiting and a bin for dirty dishes. Tony will scrub up at the end of the night. By the fire there's a waffle iron and as many toppings as they could find for waffles- jams, zalpaca butter, dried fruit, preserved peaches. Serve yourself or sit and sample!

THE CHILL OUT CORNER

For the more introspective or anyone taking a break from The Debate Wall, there's a comfortable chair tucked in the far corner where the light isn't as bright, the sound not quite so loud- and in this chair sits a young Peacat, a smaller pot for tea, and a few books. Elton's a friendly sort and will chirrup to lean for pets or simply sit on a lap and purr, offering calming, quiet company.

THE DEBATE WALL

Scrubbed clean for the night, the wall opposite Tony's Scrawled projects, equations, rules and definitions- currently marked only with a few notes RE proper charcoal use 'It's for the wall, not your hands, not anyone's clothes', the large space cleared for marking out or drawing out- well. Games, hangman, tic-tac-toe, sketches, or debate points. The only other rule listed is 'If you're going to pick a hill to die on, cite your references'.

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To some, Loki's expression might appear to be waning towards boredom as Tony talks, the flickering whisper of good humor falling away from his mouth and Loki's body language projecting an air of indifference as he crosses his legs and leans back in his chair while Tony leans forward. To look at him, one might easily assume that he's only passingly invested in whatever conversation he's been drawn into.

Until you see his eyes, of course, which can't help but spark with curiosity for the words "robotic" and "sadistic".

Still, curious or not, Loki isn't so easily bought with a promise and a fresh glass of wine to replace what he's already drained. Tony wouldn't be wrong in his assumptions, naturally. Thor is many things, most of them better than Loki cares to put a voice to himself, but pragmatic and underhanded have never been on that list with any great success. Diplomacy has never suited him the way it has Loki, and as Tony lays out his exceptions to this favor he's so graciously extended, Loki can't do anything else but sigh regretfully. To those who don't know him, it might almost sound sincere.

"Terribly dangerous lands, aren't these? Or so I've heard." He doesn't make an effort to relieve Tony of the glass of wine in hand, refusing the offer that it stands for. "Filled to the brim with monstrous beasts untold. The responsible thing would be, surely, to see those around you suitably armed to defend themselves."

It's such reasonable logic on the surface, even if it is twined together so easily with what would otherwise be a brazen implication that Tony himself is at fault for whatever may befall him or any others he may or may not have refused a weapon to. "I am human now, as you so enjoyed reminding me upon our meeting again. Truly, I can't think of anything else that could possibly aid me nearly as much as a reasonable means of protection. But--" The look he gives Tony is steeped in false apology as he makes to stand, "--in the absence of such a possibility, I think our business this night may very well be concluded."

It is, honestly, the play he'd expected. Contrary to what most might assume- he's a fair hand at negotiation when he needs to be. But he's had Pepper, had other things to handle, therefore didn't often need to be. But here in this village it's just him, its just this pocket of safety he needs to defend to keep himself sane- and thus, he's pulled out the skills honed over years in the boardroom, in front of the media. Tony might not be a literal king-

But he's a Prince of the Industry. And that counts for something. Diplomacy means different things for different people. Brows lifted, lips curled in a faint (feigned) grimace, he sets teh wine aside.

"There are weapons in the Inn's storage room. Not a lot and they can be a little-" He wiggles a hand laterally, pivoting on the axis. Seesawing. "That's what you want though, isn't it? Something quality."

Something he has, more or less, sworn off producing for the bulk of the village without due cause. But this? Fighting fire with a super nova? He'd pretty well consider this due cause. The Connor walking around all cold, glinting contempt is a danger you can't just hammer into submission. It needs delicacy. A smile up front and a knife in the back.

If it means he has to supply the knife for that hand?

"I don't make weapons in this forge. Not without a good reason. But-" He sits back, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes darkened in consideration. Is this reason enough? Is this the devil he wants to handle, the deal he wants to broker? He's worked with worse people for less reason and, honestly? The Devil You Know is far, far better than one you don't know how to work with. He visibly mulls it over for a few seconds, eyes focused in the middle distance as though weighing the pros and cons.

Honestly? He'd figured it'd go this way. Bargaining is a thing in myths and he might've done a little homework after New York. Still he counts, five, six, ten seconds- not long for most but men like them? More than time enough. He rubs a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. Sighing, as though giving in to the inevitable. "It still has to be smaller than a breadbox."

They're playing the same game and only a fool could possibly miss it. The false consideration, the posturing, the thin veil of confidence attempting to hide the fact that one of them holds just a fraction more power in this exchange than the other-- and oh how it must sting even just a little for Tony to know that it isn't him.

Whatever he needs, it's either dangerous or impossible-- quite possibly both-- and evidently important enough that it's leaving Tony just on the edge of desperate for Loki's cooperation. For what else could this be called? This bargaining, this moral code breaking, the battle with himself Loki can see reflected in those dark, too-clever eyes as Tony tries to decide how much is too much to yield.

Loki might have agreed even if Tony refused him a weapon, given enough time for curiosity to bite at him. That Tony agrees at all, that this endeavor is somehow important enough that Tony thinks arming Loki worth the risk given there history is...

Interesting.

Incredibly, incredibly interesting.

"Smaller than a breadbox." Loki agrees easily with a smile that means victory in every language, his eyes glittering with self-satisfaction. He's tempted to ask for two, twin blades as sharp as sin, but even he knows better than to push his luck too far in this particular trade. At least until he sees what it is that Tony wants him for. "But I'll agree to nothing until I hear your proposition in full."

"I'd like you to keep an eye on someone- something? The semantics are complicated." And one of many, many issues Tony has with the entire ordeal. Again, he offers the glass of wine but if Loki snubs him a second time? Fuck it, he's had a night, one glass won't kill him. But being a proper host or negotiator means a little bending, a little smiling through grit teeth, wheeling and dealing with people you'd rather put on the other side of the planet.

Even if Loki hasn't done anything to cause him migraines.

Yet.

The potential's always there for it to change. "We've got a fun case of identical twins walking around the village. One's harmless, one wants the other dead for whatever reason and will use excessive and might I say sadistic amounts of force to make it happen. I'm talking tear out someone's heart and walk away levels."

He doesn't linger too much on that memory, he has no reason to, even if he still can't shake the sensation of chemically slick blue blood all over his hands. "They're androids and- what do you know about Artificial Intelligence? Was that ever a thing on Asgard or did you skip that?"

The glass of wine is offered to him again like a bridge to something Loki isn't entirely sure he really wants to involve himself in, and there's a long moment where it seems like he might very well refuse it again until he hears all that Tony has to say.

One heartbeat of a second, two, and against his better judgment Loki leans forward just enough to receive with a gracious incline of his head. it"I know of it." And that might be exactly where his knowledge ends-- a glancing familiarity. Certainly not enough to help him here. "But no, it's not technology Asgard had found itself interested in."

Something considered overly complicated and unnecessary, he's certain. Asgard, for better or worse, had a stubborn history and enjoyed the comfort of its own ways more than the excitement that came with change. When a nation of people is under the impression that just because one can do something doesn't mean it's worth their effort, some things tend to slip through the cracks.

Not that Loki is entirely certain they'd missed anything the longer he turns this over in his mind. He knows the word android, has heard it mentioned on one realm or another outside the nine Odin controlled, but to his knowledge murderous intent hadn't been tied along with it. Still-- "Why involve yourself?" His wine sits untouched, glass rested against his knee as Loki watches Tony with a critical gaze. "If this is a disagreement that exists only between these machines, why interfere?"

"You're not missing much. A lot of ethical and philosophical questions, what is the measure of sentience and a soul, what makes a man a man- that kind of shit." Stuff Tony rolled around in his head at a tender young age and decided was worth the risk of discovery- as long as he treated everything well. As long as he handled everything right. Up until a certain point (Ultron) he'd been careful. He'd cared. And it'd been enough to avoid the worst. "Where we're from? The list of people capable of creating an AI and nurturing them into any kind of reasonable personhood? Is one."

He taps his chest- not bragging, not elaborating- it's tangential information. Background noise to the potential conflict. "Where these two are from? They're mass produced. Someone decided that building people to bulk up the labor force was the best course of action and they are very human, very emotive- but machines. Or that's how they're designed, and it's a shitty design, the internals are a mess-"

Visibly he has to reel himself in, scrubbing at his jaw, eyes flicking from the middle distance back to Loki. "Let alone the software. They're not meant to see themselves as people, even if they are. Deviating from their code makes them 'deviants'- very creative, I know- and therefore dangerous. Allegedly. I say a self-aware learning system with thumbs deciding it's a person is progress, not dangerous- except where this one decided the best way to handle a disagreement was to jam a pipe into someone's shoulder. He doesn't think much of people- honestly? Talking to him was a little like talking to you in New York all those years ago- but nowhere near as charming."

Because he was, despite everything. "Or as smart. A violent, unpredictable idiot isn't someone I want wandering around deciding maybe to start stirring shit. The potential for fallout here? Is pretty staggering. An AI with a mission, 'decommission unit B' will do anything to fulfill that mission. I'm not going to hope he'll decide to shoot around someone standing between him and his target if he finds out that the good twin? Isn't dead."

A beat.

"Also he was a dick to my cat. So fuck him."

The urge to roll his eyes at Tony's staggering overconfidence is near maddening, and Loki only just barely manages to hold his tongue against comment. How bold it is to think that one's personal accomplishments on one planet could possibly eclipse those of an entire universe full of life and technology that Earth could scarcely fathom as possible. Humans are so remarkably arrogant.

But that's not the point of this conversation, nor is it where Loki cares to allow it to deviate when the picture Tony begins to paint with this information opens up too many other points of consideration. A world with an artificial workforce and those who built them were still foolish enough to give them room to think they could possibly be more than their base parts. Machines with emotional range, with the capacity for determining their own course of action? Loki would have to correct himself; humans are arrogant and stupid, proven yet again by this mess Tony thinks they have for themselves.

Or, perhaps, a mess Tony has already found first hand. Loki's eyes narrow, watching the way the other seems to lose himself for a moment, noticeably shaken by whatever his mind has resupplied for him, and--

Honestly, Loki could laugh at the absurdity of it, of how deeply, how personally, Tony has apparently entangled himself into this situation. Already drowning under matters that shouldn't concern him for no other reason than because he can't stop the way his heart bleeds, and perhaps this is why he looks so much wearier than the last time Loki saw him. Exhaustion is etched into the man, and for all that he remains the proud creature Loki remembers in New York the strain that weighs upon him is obvious for anyone who cared to look. Loki can't help but wonder who else has noticed.

A shadow crosses over Loki's expression for the comparison between himself and this machine Tony speaks of, something flickering darkly in eyes for the memory of the man who once came to Earth looking to own it. Mad with power, with fury and heartache and spite and fear, determined to meet his goal by any means necessary with unrelenting determination. Loki isn't that person any longer, not in this moment, but some things never truly leave a person. "I think I'm nearly flattered."

The sarcasm in his voice is clear, and there's a frown pulling at that edges of Loki's mouth as he considers the information before him, sifting through the implications of involving himself in something that has the potential to be a larger headache than Loki thinks he's really eager to suffer. "And you would ask me to do what, exactly?" He can't say he isn't curious as to what Tony's goal is here, or what the other things he could possibly achieve by involving someone like Loki in it. "Dismantle it? Risk myself to see this creation destroyed so you won't have to dirty your own hands before it finishes what it started?"

"What? Oh, fuck no." he's startled into laughter for a moment, embers of a younger, more arrogant, less weighed down version of himself flickering in his eyes, his voice as he shakes his head, slumping back in his chair. For that one, brilliant moment- he remembers their little standoff. How imposing Loki had attempted to make himself-

How harried he'd actually looked. Strung out and worn down and- somewhat familiar.

The shoe is well on the other foot this time around and no small part of Tony appreciates the irony. Upper hand then was his, now is Loki's. There's too much weight, too many variables, and he really can't spare the energy for another puzzle. The sharper edge of his laugh has a faint mew picking up, Elton slipping out of Tony's lap to bound across the distance, leaping up into Loki's.

Source of distress. Please stop with making the distress. A dainty, delicate chirrup accompanies two blue paws set neatly on Loki's chest as Elton leans up and in, sniffing. Who is this person?

Charmed, somewhat, by the tableau- the android had been a dick but Tony is sixty seven percent certain Loki won't be as much of a dick to Elton if only for the rumors of Frigga and the chariot pulled by cats. That had been a thing, right? Right. "No, that- that's not the plan. We have a no shank rule, remember? If I wanted to stab someone, shit, I'd stab them myself."

No need to involve Loki in it in the slightest. Some of the weight returns but- not all. A glimmer remains of that younger self in his eyes, but just that. A glimmer. "No I was hoping you'd keep an eye on him. Make sure he didn't find what he was looking for or, I don't know, make sure he doesn't snap and decide to start murdering people for fun. Watch him. Poke him a little? He thinks himself superior because he was designed that way, lacks any kind of empathy I could read- treating him like a person bothers him. Because he's not a person in his own mind and usually I'm pretty well live and let live for how AI choose to present themselves but this guy? This guy's an asshole. So, again. Fuck him. I'd do it myself but-"

He gestures to the forge. "Kind of busy. You, I think, could make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, maybe get under his skin a little. You're good at that, finding shit people are sensitive about and dragging it into the light."

It's incredible how much a short burst of laughter can peel away. For a moment Tony is the man Loki met those years ago, brighter for his hope, daring in his arrogance. The man who stood before him and laughed in the face of a god. Loki could have killed him then, far more efficiently than throwing him through plated glass. Perhaps he should have, but--

Well. It isn't as if it would change anything had it ever come to that. Given the sense of humor the fates appear to possess, they likely would have met here again regardless.

He's distracted from those thoughts by the unmistakable feline trill that precedes the sudden weight upon his lap, Elton only just missing the chance to upset the wine glass in Loki's hand as it's raised to safety before Loki finds his personal space entirely invaded. They're undeniably beautiful, these creatures, though Loki knows better than to believe it comes without a price. Emotional manipulation isn't exactly Loki's idea of a good time, certainly not in the middle of negotiations of this sort, and he leans away from the brilliant blue face attempting to investigate his own with a scoff entirely directed towards Tony. "Is there no exception for reasonable retaliation?" One finger finds the cool tip of Elton's nose to nudge him back, encouraging the peacat off his chest with care not to touch any more of the animal than he needs to. "One would think that retribution for such a savage and needless attack would be well warranted."

What Tony is suggesting amounts to little more than babysitting, and the urge to tell the man he has better things to do is incredibly tempting. After all, one of them is getting significantly more out of this than the other and Loki isn't in the habit of making agreements so unbalanced in his favor. One small weapon in exchange for the responsibly of managing a machine he has no measure of, who may respond to his efforts with lethal force? Loki isn't sold. "Where is the other being kept? I assume you intend to keep them separated if it thinks it's already succeeded in it's goal."

"Warranted- sure. Even if he's promised he won't pull the same trick on a human or human adjacent sort that isn't his mission- I don't believe him on that note, but, well. The only reason I didn't start swinging when he rolled up here is the kids." He nods at Seifer, Brigitte, and even Thor off to one side in the forge. Drinking, laughing, being young. Something he doesn't think the Brodinsons ever got a chance to, not with the whole being royal bullshit that comes hand in hand with their family. He's not going to empathize with Loki on that count, hell no, but-

Yeah. It's a thing. "I can't come down on them about not making weapons and not stabbing their way out of problems if I do the same thing. Also tweedle dee the first, the one that got stabbed, was...pretty unperturbed by the whole thing. Annoyed more at not having hands for a little while than upset by being harmed. Because machines can't feel bad for being harmed- it's a thing. I don't agree with it but I'm not in a position to start shit I don't know that I can end. Also why I'm asking you to fuck with him. We both know-"

For various reasons, various causes. "There are worse things than being killed. Or decommissioned. Not that I recommend leaning into physical torture but making someone question their reality and existence? Doesn't that sound like fun? I'd do more of it myself but he knows I'm hostile already, so it wouldn't work half as well."

Or at all. "Somewhere safe, and keeping his head down. He still hasn't completely recovered. The problem with advanced tech appearing here, even if that tech is a person? No way to replace some shit."

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[ MINGLE ] FORGE AFTER HOURS

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