That’s thirty-four hours,” Stephen was quick to specify as he slipped through the door of the workshop.
He took in the wide array of impossibilities it contained with a sweep of his gaze. Scanning the tools of the room, he filed away each with an attached recognition of the stunning potential it possessed. No wonder Stark Industries was the lead in every field reaching toward the future, if this was what a single workshop held. From holograms to propane, Stephen saw everything. The living inhabitants glanced up on his arrival, and he heard his voice echoing from the ceiling, reminding him of the ongoing call and the phone he was still holding to his ear.
But the award for most unexpected went to the screen displaying the somewhat amused, but unmistakable face of Shuri of Wakanda.
Stephen stared at her for half a heartbeat, then moved on.
Dropping the phone, he let FRIDAY hang up when she saw fit and positioned himself aside the door. “Couldn’t even last two days without calling me again.”
“Oh, apologies for involving you in world-altering dimensional developments,” Stark snapped. He looked a bit pale, and he was watching Stephen far too closely for his liking. Neither had any effect on the ease of his words.
“I’m lost,” Shuri said, raising her hand on the screen. “Who is that?”
“That’s the wizard we were talking about,” Peter explained. He was perched on the far table next to two other teenagers,
“Sorcerer,” Loki and Stephen corrected simultaneously.
“As opposed to magician, as opposed to warlock, as opposed to enchanter,” Potts huffed, looking entirely unimpressed. “These words are called synonyms and their interchanging use has no effect on the meaning of a sentence, so can we get to the point?”
“Actually,” Vision interjected, “a word’s connotation can have a rather drastic effect on interpretation.”
“Yeah, like ‘cottage in the forest’ versus ‘cabin in the woods,’” the squat male teenager recited.
“Oh, I know this one.” Peter straightened. “‘Butt dial’ versus ‘booty call’!”
On the screen, Shuri smirked. “‘Forgive me father, for I have sinned’ versus ‘Sorry Daddy, I’ve been naughty.’”
Silence.
“What the fuck?” Stark demanded, gaze whipping to the teenagers.
“Tumblr,” the female teenager contributed.
“How about we move on from that,” Colonel Rhodes managed through gritted teeth—from guarded laughter or irritation, Stephen couldn’t tell— “to the part where we get an actual explanation?”
“Please,” Stephen agreed, leaning back against the edge of the doorway.
“Right, yes,” Stark sighed, waving a hand. The wave abruptly morphed into a toss, and Stephen had just enough time to lunge forward and catch the Time Gem as the man hurled it across the room.
He opened his mouth to remind them all yet again that an Infinity Stone was not to be trifled with, but Stark beat him to the words.
“Yes, yes, power of the multiverse incarnate and all that, don’t start. Have you used it?”
Stephen pulled his perception away from the sickening aura resting in his palm, like a child shying away from an animal. “Assuming your refer to this Gem, no, I haven’t.”
“Are you using it now? Just touching it?”
“Of course not.” Stephen opened his weakly fisted fingers. He carefully moved his hand so the green light didn’t shine across his wrists, concentrated in the center of his palm, and watched suspended object slowly spinning. “The Time Stone must be channeled like the mystic arts for any sort of control over its power.”
