[A part of him wants to correct Stark. Wants to tell him that if there was any blame to bear, Stephen would not hesitate to pin it on himself β that arrogance and hubris were once old friends of his, and he should like to think heβs outgrown them enough to admit when heβs wrong on a multiversal-bending scale.
But the man is unspooling. And he thinks, with any luck, this frustration and anger and anxiety might run out of steam and dissipate like smoke, its energy depleted amid a ridiculous banquet, surrounded by strangers, before he creates a scene. If he stands here with pudding running down his front long enough, whatever is brewing will recede and save itself for another time.
Yet Stark punctuates it with a question that might as well knife through the space between them, and a muscle ticks in Stephenβs jaw. The half-second before his reply is telling.]
Do you really want to have this conversation right now?
no subject
But the man is unspooling. And he thinks, with any luck, this frustration and anger and anxiety might run out of steam and dissipate like smoke, its energy depleted amid a ridiculous banquet, surrounded by strangers, before he creates a scene. If he stands here with pudding running down his front long enough, whatever is brewing will recede and save itself for another time.
Yet Stark punctuates it with a question that might as well knife through the space between them, and a muscle ticks in Stephenβs jaw. The half-second before his reply is telling.]
Do you really want to have this conversation right now?
[And maybe so is the answer.]