There's a completely reasonable explanation why he's sitting on the floor in front of Thor, god of thunder, as electricity zaps between his fingers, jellyfish tentacles writhe off his arms, and a dildo vibrates in his ass.
Exhibit A:
Tony's been working on this suit for a while. Like, a while. In fact, if you consider "mental planning" part of the inventing process (and Tony totally does), then he's been on it for months -- since the morning after The Night of Regret, when he first slammed back into his workspace and feverishly considered what might prevent the previous evening from ever happening again. And even if you don't count mental planning, schematic-building is a definite start point, and Tony began that in earnest around mid-August, as soon as he completed successful test runs of the Mk. Ll and felt comfortable moving onto a version with... additional features.
Which is how the Mk. Lƒ officially became a thing. (No one gets any points for guessing what the "ƒ" stands for.)
So Tony's been working on it for, as emphasized previously, a while. With discretion. Obviously, it hasn't taken priority over dissecting Lunatian devices and analyzing Chroma consumption, and it definitely hasn't come out of Tony's super-casually-named desktop folder whenever Bruce joins him in the now-shared workspace. But when Iris starts to rise into the sky, and Bruce is banned from the apartment anyway, and Tony's alone and fidgety and increasingly agitated (these are euphemisms), then... sure, he'll work on it. Maybe with more gusto than usual. And one hand.
....Anyway.
Exhibit B:
The necklace.
It's no secret Tony's been varying degrees of curious and frustrated with the constant use of magic in this place, and the fact that he apparently can't get in on any of it. Not that he particularly wants to, but he's concluded at this point that understanding this place's illogical laws of physics is the only way he's going to get anywhere on the technological side of things. So, he's been thinking. And scheming. He's got a couple avenues of interest, one being Cirrus' equippable "materia" stones, and the other being... his own Iris electricity. He's played with it before -- zapping objects, measuring voltage, seeing what he can do. The answer has been "not much," but the potential of an electricity-specific power in the literal palm of his hand hasn't escaped his calculations, especially after reading about a "Moonstone Necklace" on the network that can amplify a person's power if they're pricked with it.
So... he tracked down one of the traveling hockers who sell it, and put down the money, and has been staring at it on-and-off ever since. For like a month. Until it occurred to him last night that it was as good a time as any, especially if he was going to be testing the Mk. Lƒ the next day anyway. (And maybe because he needed an immediate distraction from his conversation with Natasha, but y'know.)
So that happened. And he woke up the next morning, and stumbled in a groggy haze to the coffeemaker, and touched it, and -- fried it. Immediately. With a giant arc of electricity from his palm through the wiring, which left him in a cloud of regret and burnt plastic on an Iris day that he had already, from his pre-breakfast activities, judged to be an Extremely Not Safe Day.
Exhibit C:
Tony knows Thor's weekly routine like the back of his hand. He assumed -- reasonably -- that he wouldn't be in his apartment if he snuck up there to use the coffee machine, and even if he was, what better time to try out the Mk. Lƒ for exactly what it was designed to handle?
Exhibit D:
Tony is human. He is sometimes, shockingly, wrong.
Exhibit E:
He just really wanted some coffee, man.]
I'm not nervous, [he mutters. It's not a complete lie, considering that the reason for his tense body language has nothing to do with fear of hurting Thor, and everything to do with fear of Thor finding out What's Up (or rather, what's being Held Down by the padding under Tony's crotch plate).
He scowls and shakes his hand out, causing tiny sparks of static electricity to jump in-between his fingers. Then he leans back, which means he sits back, onto it, and a breath heaves out of his chest that he hopes he can play off as exasperation rather than... the other thing.]
Hey, listen, I'm uh. Okay, man. Totally... okay. Hey. [He jerks his thumb at the door.] I think I'm gonna go back to, y'know, somewhere I won't damage anything, rather than--
[His thigh shifts half an inch against the floor, sending his custom-built, 100% nano-materialized, body-safe silicone polymer-encased phallus straight up against the spot that his wonderful blessing of the moon has decided that he just -- y'know, really loves, just completely... craves to a harrowing degree. He grits his teeth and chokes out a sound in the back of his throat as a bolt of lightning shoots out his thumb, to the umbrella stand, up the coat rack, and sets a jacket on fire.]
[nsfw starts here 🌶️]
There's a completely reasonable explanation why he's sitting on the floor in front of Thor, god of thunder, as electricity zaps between his fingers, jellyfish tentacles writhe off his arms, and a dildo vibrates in his ass.
Exhibit A:
Tony's been working on this suit for a while. Like, a while. In fact, if you consider "mental planning" part of the inventing process (and Tony totally does), then he's been on it for months -- since the morning after The Night of Regret, when he first slammed back into his workspace and feverishly considered what might prevent the previous evening from ever happening again. And even if you don't count mental planning, schematic-building is a definite start point, and Tony began that in earnest around mid-August, as soon as he completed successful test runs of the Mk. Ll and felt comfortable moving onto a version with... additional features.
Which is how the Mk. Lƒ officially became a thing. (No one gets any points for guessing what the "ƒ" stands for.)
So Tony's been working on it for, as emphasized previously, a while. With discretion. Obviously, it hasn't taken priority over dissecting Lunatian devices and analyzing Chroma consumption, and it definitely hasn't come out of Tony's super-casually-named desktop folder whenever Bruce joins him in the now-shared workspace. But when Iris starts to rise into the sky, and Bruce is banned from the apartment anyway, and Tony's alone and fidgety and increasingly agitated (these are euphemisms), then... sure, he'll work on it. Maybe with more gusto than usual. And one hand.
....Anyway.
Exhibit B:
The necklace.
It's no secret Tony's been varying degrees of curious and frustrated with the constant use of magic in this place, and the fact that he apparently can't get in on any of it. Not that he particularly wants to, but he's concluded at this point that understanding this place's illogical laws of physics is the only way he's going to get anywhere on the technological side of things. So, he's been thinking. And scheming. He's got a couple avenues of interest, one being Cirrus' equippable "materia" stones, and the other being... his own Iris electricity. He's played with it before -- zapping objects, measuring voltage, seeing what he can do. The answer has been "not much," but the potential of an electricity-specific power in the literal palm of his hand hasn't escaped his calculations, especially after reading about a "Moonstone Necklace" on the network that can amplify a person's power if they're pricked with it.
So... he tracked down one of the traveling hockers who sell it, and put down the money, and has been staring at it on-and-off ever since. For like a month. Until it occurred to him last night that it was as good a time as any, especially if he was going to be testing the Mk. Lƒ the next day anyway. (And maybe because he needed an immediate distraction from his conversation with Natasha, but y'know.)
So that happened. And he woke up the next morning, and stumbled in a groggy haze to the coffeemaker, and touched it, and -- fried it. Immediately. With a giant arc of electricity from his palm through the wiring, which left him in a cloud of regret and burnt plastic on an Iris day that he had already, from his pre-breakfast activities, judged to be an Extremely Not Safe Day.
Exhibit C:
Tony knows Thor's weekly routine like the back of his hand. He assumed -- reasonably -- that he wouldn't be in his apartment if he snuck up there to use the coffee machine, and even if he was, what better time to try out the Mk. Lƒ for exactly what it was designed to handle?
Exhibit D:
Tony is human. He is sometimes, shockingly, wrong.
Exhibit E:
He just really wanted some coffee, man.]
I'm not nervous, [he mutters. It's not a complete lie, considering that the reason for his tense body language has nothing to do with fear of hurting Thor, and everything to do with fear of Thor finding out What's Up (or rather, what's being Held Down by the padding under Tony's crotch plate).
He scowls and shakes his hand out, causing tiny sparks of static electricity to jump in-between his fingers. Then he leans back, which means he sits back, onto it, and a breath heaves out of his chest that he hopes he can play off as exasperation rather than... the other thing.]
Hey, listen, I'm uh. Okay, man. Totally... okay. Hey. [He jerks his thumb at the door.] I think I'm gonna go back to, y'know, somewhere I won't damage anything, rather than--
[His thigh shifts half an inch against the floor, sending his custom-built, 100% nano-materialized, body-safe silicone polymer-encased phallus straight up against the spot that his wonderful blessing of the moon has decided that he just -- y'know, really loves, just completely... craves to a harrowing degree. He grits his teeth and chokes out a sound in the back of his throat as a bolt of lightning shoots out his thumb, to the umbrella stand, up the coat rack, and sets a jacket on fire.]