Answering To Eternity [DISCONT.]

07 | a pain called hope

"Your ride'll be here in a few minutes, Wayne," Tony sighed, utterly exhausted, a headache beginning to encroach on his temples. The night had been a resolute disaster - there was no cool exchange of superhero stories. He didn't even get the opportunity to ask Bruce the one thing he actually wanted to know: why a bat? Instead, Tony was left with the dreaded possibility of a super-soldier on the loose, who he had already started referring to as 'Captain America: Girl Boss Edition' in his head.

Bruce nodded slowly, his head rolling slightly on his shoulders, his mouth agape, a string of saliva escaping from it.

"A few minutes?" Steve interrupted, "No- no, if there's someone like me we need all the information we can get," He told Tony firmly, his eyes darting between Tony and Bruce, who looked to be on the verge of falling asleep. 

"You weren't the only one that heard him start talking about Mrs-Super-Soldier, Steve! We need to get Bruce home safe so that we can get all the information from him when he's sober! And besides, he might not even be telling the truth. If there was someone like you then surely we would have heard about it by now." Tony responded with a sharp whisper, trying to keep Bruce from hearing.

"SHIELD wasn't incredibly honest with us, Tony. Who knows what they could have been keeping from us. The second he's sober again, he's back here, I want to be the first to talk to him. See if you can get a hold of Miss Prince before someone else does, too." Steve whispered back, frowning, before he stalked off to locate Natasha - to go ask her if she'd ever heard of this Diana Prince.

"Who left an icicle up his ass?" Tony muttered, turning his attention back to Bruce, "Listen, Wayne. I spoke to your butler, Alfred, on the phone. The second you're in your right state of mind you're back here at the tower. We have like, several major questions."

Bruce nodded lazily in response, leaning back to look at the door, "It's-" He started, slurring his words and blinking slowly.

"Your driver," Tony pulled Bruce up by the arm, "Time to go, Bruce." He hauled the man across the room with a grunt, practically shoving him into the confused-looking driver, who had just entered the lobby. "Take him straight back to Wayne manor- he's drunk off his ass, don't listen to anything he says. He, ah, doesn't know what he's saying." He told the driver firmly, receiving only a series of quick nods in response.

Steve watched the drunk billionaire cling to his significantly smaller driver and stumble out of the lobby with a frown, his blue eyes tracking every movement carefully. It was a heady, dangerous, but most of all powerful thought to imagine there being somebody like him. It felt like there was a fist wrapping around his heart, twisting and squeezing, preparing to pull it out of his chest entirely. Such a hand was called hope. It often crushed men to dust, reducing them to mere fragments of their former selves.