( office hours & overflow )

[sorserer]

❥ stephen strange has office hours. these are hours during which people can come by his house in the up, the abattoir a magically expanded but still very cramped closet-now-office in the triple m apothecary for a nice cup of tea and some advice or direct support on magical endeavors. come thru
❥ this is an informal, word-of-mouth service. stephen appreciates some manner of compensation but will neither mention nor require it
❥ oocly, this is a mechanism for random non-phone threads. you don’t actually have to have a magic question. you can just come by and annoy the shit out of him
❥ just like the ic inbox i reserve the right to cram random shit in here

Comments

[ingeniar]

Thermal barrier coating on the mark two, got it. Gonna do that anyway, probably. Just makes sense.

[ Tony sounds unrepentant, maybe even potentially excited at the challenge. The drone bounces a little in the air, whirring to itself.

Inside the box, Stephen will find his Garfield sweater and sleep shorts -- laundered and folded, of course -- as well as a smaller box of scented dryer sheets, and what looks like a single gardening glove covered in braided wires with a small battery pack on the wrist. ]

So this is -- well, it's a prototype. I'd be interested to get your thoughts, you know, a review, doesn't have to be glowing, would be nice though --

[sorserer]

[ stephen makes a neutral sound of recognition at the clothes, not quite an expression of thanks, after which he takes the box of dryer sheets out to examine it. ]

You forgot the bag and umbrella.

[ an idle observation. since they’re playing a returning-things game, or whatever.

only belatedly he notices the glove. there’s a tingle of suspicion in the back of his mind; he lets it leak into his voice. ]

I’d have to know what it is to review it.

[ingeniar]

Figured I could do those in person.

[ He definitely just forgot. Anyway: ]

Ever used a TENS machine? You know, transcutaneous, uh, electrical nerve stimulation. It's one of those, only better. Because I made it. I had to guess the right dimensions, but I'm pretty sure I got them right. Go on, put it on. It should give me a readout on this end as well.

[sorserer]

[ he barely bites back a please don’t, because he figures it would be heard in poor humor. it’s just--it’d be easier if tony didn’t. why don’t people understand sometimes it’s better to just not have anything to deal with at all?

instead he picks up the glove for further examination. the measurements aren’t too off-base. he glances down at the battery pack too as he says, ]

Not that the effort isn’t on some level appreciated, but normally one asks before taking on someone else’s health condition as a personal project. [ he lifts his eyes to the camera again, pointed even as he moves to pull the glove on. ] Just for future reference.

[ingeniar]

Consider yourself contributing to some karmic rebalancing, my good Doctor.

[ The drone bobs a bit in the air, sliding back away from the desk by a foot or so. ]

Look. You can tell me to go screw myself if you want. But I'm -- I dunno, I'm trying this new thing where I give a shit about people? I guess? And I'd be lying if I'm not, you know, interested in this from a completely professional point of view. But also because I want to help. And you seem like the kind of guy who doesn't have a lot of people trying to help you out. So -- oh, hey, there we go.

[ The readout from the glove has obviously popped up on the other end. ]

Yeah, yeah, okay, looking good. You might feel it kinda buzzing. Let me know if anything goes numb. The electrical pulses are interrupting your nerves, should be kinda dampening everything down a little. Eventually it should be able to read and adapt to your vitals and provide pain relief to scale with what you're doing. Hopefully without too much interruption. And it'll be smaller, you know, not so.. not that you're not rocking the old school Michael Jackson look here.

Can you make a fist for me? Slowly. If you can.

[sorserer]

[ the funny thing is, stephen doesn’t really know the point in time this iteration of tony stark is from. what he’d said about his house the other day had been a good hint. but he’d looked into tony’s future, not his past, and the latter he mostly knows through brief headlines, snatches of television clips, an unauthorized biography he bought one time at the airport.

so he can’t really pin down a time during which tony stark wanting to turn over a new leaf would’ve been significant. he does remember recently he himself had been considering turning over a new leaf, after another near-miss with endangering his universe. face your fears, doctor strange.

if he were a more charitable man this would be a point of sympathy or possible connection. he is decidedly not. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t even visibly bristle at seeming like the kind of guy who doesn’t have a lot of people trying to help you out, like he doesn’t have a perfectly acceptable network of colleagues in duplicity or people who’d come if he called--

he sighs. lifts his hand, flexes it, registers the slight undercurrent from the machine, how it numbs in some areas but not some stubborn others. ]

I’m fine. And, more importantly, I’m busy.

[ he is, in fact, making that fist. his expression doesn’t change, because chronic pain is part of the ambient background noise of his life, but the faint skitter in his pulse readout shows this gesture is rarely if ever pleasant for him. it’s why he isn’t a puncher. ]

[ingeniar]

Yeah?

[ Back in his apartment, Tony's stretched out on the couch with a holographic display floating in front of him, his cell phone in his hands acting rather like a video game controller. A projection of Stephen's hand flexes in the air above him, colours shifting across it to indicate flares of electrical output, a smaller readout representing his vitals.

Tony reaches up to spin it around, frowning. His fingers drag through the pixels of Stephen's palm. Haptic feedback, now there's an interesting concept. ]

Pretty sure I just watched you spend a good, what? Fifteen minutes on 23 across? 10 down is tungsten, by the way. T-U-N-G-S-T-E-N.

[ He hums thoughtfully. The drone drifts closer to Stephen. ]

Okay, now raise your index finger and your middle finger. Make a vee.

[sorserer]

Your drone hasn’t been here for fifteen minutes. If I have to check my home for surveillance devices I’m not going to be pleased.

[ there’s a note of real warning in that dry tone. he does make the vee, though. also his pen picks itself up of its own accord and goes ahead and fills in tungsten on the crossword. like on the business card, his handwriting is nice albeit a little prescription pad. ]

[ingeniar]

All right, just.. hold it there..

[ The drone moves down a bit and drifts closer. Is it lining itself up so Tony can grab a few screenshots of Stephen giving a peace sign? Definitely. Will Stephen shortly receive said photos sent to his phone? Also yes. ]

Okay, that's great. Cool. You can take it off now. Give it to the drone.

[ "Ringo" releases a couple of small arms, tipped with tiny pincers. It holds them out rather like a child asking for a sweet. ]

[sorserer]

[ stephen takes the glove off and hands it over. ]

If you insist on continuing your work on this with my participation, schedule in advance. Downtime or no downtime, I don’t like personal issues interceding on office time. And I would consider my disability a personal issue.

[ and then, absently, the items that the drone scattered beginning to pick themselves up off the floor, the paperweight rising and reassembling itself: ]

Thank you.

[ingeniar]

[ The drone dutifully gathers the glove in close, tucking it underneath as it floats backwards. If there's a significance to being given such a concession from such a private man, Tony doesn't recognise it. He's too busy crunching numbers. ]

Duly noted.

[ The drone dips in the air as if giving a bow, then sidles and whirrs towards the window. ]

Thanks for your help, Doc.

[ And it's gone. ]