16298/A picnic... sort of.

A picnic... sort of.
Date of Scene:	25 May 2024
Location:	Penthouse - Stark Tower
Synopsis:	Pepper Potts interrupts Tony trying to... cut off his hand.
Cast of Characters:	Pepper Potts, Iron Man

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Pepper Potts has posed:
In the penthouse kitchen, Pepper makes two plates -- roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. She wraps everything with care, ensuring it will stay warm for the journey downstairs, and even as she heads to the elevator, she grabs a bottle of grape juice and two glasses, packing it all up like a picnic.

It's not a picnic. But when you've spent nearly two decades with a genius who spends his nights designing tech that he uses during the day to save the world, you learn what to expect.

When the doors slide open, she steps into the dimly lit hallway leading to The Bunker, pausing just briefly before the locked door.

"Jarvis, can you -- "

Before she can even finish, the door slides open, leaving Pepper to smile in her low-rise jeans and half-untucked white blouse. She's barefoot, so no clack-clack-clack of her heels like normal.

"Thank you, Jarvis. Tony? Dinner's ready," she calls softly, heading towards one of the central tables.

Iron Man has posed:
Dinner might be a moment.

Tony's here, of course, where else would he be? He is, however, in the midst of ... attempting to cut off his hand.

Well, to be fair, one hand is encased in an armored glove that's clearly a prototype - as it's at the very least not showing off any of his trademark colors, or the matte black he uses for stealthed armor. The fingers of that gloved hand are being held in a vice clamp by one of the many robotic arms in the room while Tony is bringing the tip of a very brightly burning cutting torch towards the wrist of that hand.

"Hmm? What? Dinner... wait, oh, right. Jarvis, you were supposed to tell me when Pepper got home."

"I did, at just a bit after 4pm today."

"... and it's now seven thirteen."

Pepper Potts has posed:
There's a faint clatter as Pepper sets the plates down on the table, her eyes fixed on Tony and the predicament he's gotten himself into. She's used to his unorthodox methods, but seeing him about to cut off his own hand still sends a shiver down her spine.

"Tony, what on earth are you doing?"

Her voice is calm... ish. It's that firm tone, fighting back panic, that she uses when Tony needs to be brought back to reality.

It's the breaking wine glass that really tells he story about her urgency. She ignores the way it shatters on the floor in her wake -- even barefoot -- as she moves to his side.

Iron Man has posed:
There's a look of pretty intense concentration on Tony's face as the tip of that torch is brought closer to his armor encased wrist.

"Well.. this glove is the first iteration on a new suite of control mechanics leveraging a distributed nano-scale computing mesh to quite literally _feel_ whatever my hand and arm are doing. "

The torch is brought in light contact with his wrist and begins to _slowly_ heat the metal.

"The problem... Jarvis, the problem is the attachment weight in the algorithm...remind me to put a limiter on it. Err, the problem is ... is that is' gotten a bit _too_ attached to me and doesn't want to come..."

Once he's gotten one spot on his wrist to a certain temp he moves on to another.

"....off."

A pause, "It'll be fine, Pep, trust me. " He says.. in that way that means it _will_ be fine, eventually, but the repercussions are as of yet unknown.

Pepper Potts has posed:
It's sort of like looking into the surface of the sun when that torch hits the metal, and Pepper's forced to bring her hand up to shield her eyes, focusing more on Tony's face than his hand.

Which, unfortunately, leaves her in more than a little suspense about the fate of his hand.

"Tony, I would trust you with literally _anything_... except yourself."

A pause, then.

"Jarvis, is there something I can be doing to make sure Tony finishes this project with the same number of fingers he started with?"

Dinner's forgotten. She's hovering. Fretting. Mothering. Ready to jump in like a nurse at an operating table, but in that exact same way, knowing there's _nothing_ she can do until the surgeon asks for her help.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony Stark says, "Ms Potts, I'm sorry to say there is not. Dr Banner's alter-ego, perhaps, or Thor, but either of those options might prove dangerous to parts beyond just his hand and its attached fingers." Jarvis says in his usual tone.

Tony's got welding goggles on, but his expression's visible enough - as is the fact that it appears he didn't shave this morning. The expression is that one of focus, at least until he gets the next spot warmed up and pauses to say, "Jarvis, we got the heat dispersion and energy transduction right.. it only feels like my hands in a tanning bed set on high..and that's with no power for active cooling."

A pause, as if remembering that Pepper's here and he does have a bit of a 'thing' to resolve.

"And ... " he sets the torch aside, it turns off as he lets go, picks up a small screwdriver and begins to poke at the heated spots on his wrist before there's an audible 'CLICK' and the glove separates right at the wrist before beginning to fall to the floor in ... a shower of small sand particle like pieces.

"...that'll do it.""

Pepper Potts has posed:
As soon as the glove falls away, Tony's hand is in Pepper's clutches before even _he_ has a chance to inspect it. She takes his wrist, checking his palm, flipping it over, looking at his knuckles, running her fingers over his skin... and then finally, _finally_ raises it to her cheek with a soft sigh.

"Once again, I'm reminded that am _very_ glad that I try not to think about what you do down here, most of the time."

She smiles thinly at him, frustrated, worried, maybe even a little angry that there was nothing she could do while he held a blow torch to his own wrist, but it's pure affection in her eyes.

It's always affection.

Even when she's angry.

"You can still _eat_ with this hand, right?" she asks, eyebrows lifted expectantly.