[ It's weird, how often the pair of them seem to be softened up prior to anyone ever actually telling them what they want from them. Tony was wondering earlier if they hadn't somehow developed some sort of reputation from prior experiences. Beat 'em up first, ask questions later, then beat 'em up again. Tried and true method, obviously. Both of them are being hit now, which wasn't what he'd wanted, but there's not much he can do about it. They'd already seen to that earlier. The last hit comes when his eyes are closed, centering himself from the previous one, still recalibrating and recovering.
The gunshot is loud.
For a while that's all he can think about, because while he started to turn to look at her when she started moving - in a fugue or at least just before it, you don't really need to look at things to know they're happening, not unless you need specifics, but it doesn't mean that things that move don't catch your eye regardless - the gunshot is loud and he squeezes his eyes closed again almost immediately and curls away from it. Fugue sends all his senses outward, spreads him wide until he's covering everything and everything comes back to him, and in the pre-stages, that much of anything, before the numbness sets in and he's actually there, it's too much. It's not normally as wide a window as all that, but then, normally he's not doing it at all, normally it's not such a slow slide into it.
Eventually he does open his eyes though - it's not that long, because he can hear things and he needs to see them too, part of his brain isn't so far gone and part of him needs to see even if it doesn't constitute believing per se.
There's not a whole lot he can do though, between states, and part of him feels kind of useless and part of him is relieved that he doesn't have to do this this time, and part of him is just watching, awed. He doesn't typically get the chance to watch her in true action. He's kind of sad for that - or, he will be, once he's got the presence of mind to do so. There's someone trying to hide behind him now, he can tell, now that she's in control of things, now that he's no longer something to target but something to divert the target off of himself. Tony doubts that will work, keeps watching her move in the meantime because there's an elegance to it that he doesn't often get to witness. Normally - and not just with her, but in general - he doesn't move like that, he thinks. Not in the suit, which is all brute force beyond its graceful dynamics. His methods bear no technique beyond their superficial intention, merely the madness behind their inventor's second mask.
It's things like that that make him not worry about things like the guy behind him, the guy he can tell is terrified six ways from Sunday (or at least three, because Tony can hear his breathing, smell his endocrine system's balancing for the flight or flight, for adrenaline, and feel his pulse through the skin of the arm around his neck, feel the tremble in the hand holding the gun). He hasn't even reacted to that guy. He's not worth that much attention. ]
it was a bad pun wasn't it
The gunshot is loud.
For a while that's all he can think about, because while he started to turn to look at her when she started moving - in a fugue or at least just before it, you don't really need to look at things to know they're happening, not unless you need specifics, but it doesn't mean that things that move don't catch your eye regardless - the gunshot is loud and he squeezes his eyes closed again almost immediately and curls away from it. Fugue sends all his senses outward, spreads him wide until he's covering everything and everything comes back to him, and in the pre-stages, that much of anything, before the numbness sets in and he's actually there, it's too much. It's not normally as wide a window as all that, but then, normally he's not doing it at all, normally it's not such a slow slide into it.
Eventually he does open his eyes though - it's not that long, because he can hear things and he needs to see them too, part of his brain isn't so far gone and part of him needs to see even if it doesn't constitute believing per se.
There's not a whole lot he can do though, between states, and part of him feels kind of useless and part of him is relieved that he doesn't have to do this this time, and part of him is just watching, awed. He doesn't typically get the chance to watch her in true action. He's kind of sad for that - or, he will be, once he's got the presence of mind to do so. There's someone trying to hide behind him now, he can tell, now that she's in control of things, now that he's no longer something to target but something to divert the target off of himself. Tony doubts that will work, keeps watching her move in the meantime because there's an elegance to it that he doesn't often get to witness. Normally - and not just with her, but in general - he doesn't move like that, he thinks. Not in the suit, which is all brute force beyond its graceful dynamics. His methods bear no technique beyond their superficial intention, merely the madness behind their inventor's second mask.
It's things like that that make him not worry about things like the guy behind him, the guy he can tell is terrified six ways from Sunday (or at least three, because Tony can hear his breathing, smell his endocrine system's balancing for the flight or flight, for adrenaline, and feel his pulse through the skin of the arm around his neck, feel the tremble in the hand holding the gun). He hasn't even reacted to that guy. He's not worth that much attention. ]