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[ingeniar]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME: STARK

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@strange, vaguely whenever shadowheart mentioned this to him -

[rehandle]

Shadowheart suggested it'd be an idea to make me up a room key
In case we get another power outage

[ Badumtsh but that's also the sound his heart is making as it crashes around in his ribcage ]

[ingeniar]

You want a key?

[rehandle]

[ Kill me ]

Sure

[ Thank you for the generous offer that surely wasn't in fact an obvious clarifying question. ]

[ingeniar]

You got it.

Could also just knock. At pretty much any time.

[rehandle]

That's what I said

[ingeniar]

But now you want a key.

[rehandle]

I don't want her to think I don't want a key
I don't not want a key

[ingeniar]

[ Give him.. ten to fifteen minutes. ]

Where are you right now?

[rehandle]

[ A mildly agonising ten to fifteen minutes spent attempting to not stare at his phone or send a follow up. ]

My room
I can come to you

[ingeniar]

No need.

[ Shortly he might hear an interesting, and rather loud buzzing sound coming down the hall towards his door. Followed by: ]

Open up.

[rehandle]

[ And open up he does, physically walking to the door for once, though whether out of curiosity, nerves, or so he can stand in the doorway and block his half finished interior decorating efforts from view is for Tony to decide.

There is a lightly puzzled frown on his face when he does as he's bid, though. ]

Hey.

[ What's going on out here. ]

[ingeniar]

[ Once the door is open, Stephen will be greeted by the sight of a small and somewhat janky-looking drone, about the size of his hand, hovering at roughly eye level. Hanging underneath it from a length of string is a brass key, identical to many others handed out to the guests of the manor. Tied to the key is a tag with a note, which reads: ]

With great power comes great responsibili-key. - T

[ A moment later, Stephen's phone will buzz: ]

Stephen, meet Garfunkel. Garfunkel, meet Stephen.

[ The drone bobs in the air, buzzing merrily. ]

[rehandle]

[ Oh. And that is... a tiny little guy. He's busy staring at the drone, the key dangling from it and tag dangling from that a footnote to the temporary surprise of his visitor, so he's not claimed the key or its note when his phone goes. A quick check, and he huffs a laugh through a frown. ]

Garfunkel.

[ Back up to the drone, peering at it. ]

Are you watching me on this?

[ Before he starts chatting to Garfunkel only to find the footage doing the rounds of the local intranet in a month's time. ]

[ingeniar]

[ His phone vibrates again: ]

Yes. [ The drone moves forward, dipping in the air. ] Still working on autonomous control. Got a pretty good angle though. You trim your nose hairs this morning?

[ Just in case Stephen decides to take a swipe at it, the drone swerves away, buzzing around him and into the room, the key and note swinging underneath it. ]

Nice digs. I know where there are nicer ones.

[rehandle]

[ A huff, and Stephen swings the door shut, trapping Tony and Garfunkel in with him for now. ]

Yeah? You want me to ask you if you're telling me I can move in, just in case my reading comprehension failed me the first time?

[ You want a key, Tony, really?

It's weirdly easier to be flippant out loud like this. The speed of spoken communication matched with the relative privacy of text, if he pretends like he's not still under observation. Which he finds it's easy enough to do as he gives slow chase to the drone, looking to retrieve the delivery. ]

[ingeniar]

[ Sensing a game, the drone sidles away from Stephen as he gets closer, buzzing in an arc around the bed. ]

You could have moved in the minute we got back. For the record.

[ Garfunkel bobs and circles in the air. ]

She wanted you to.

[rehandle]

[ The game bleeds some of the danger out of the conversation, but not all. Stephen continues his slow, steady chase, the precise twist of his expression when his attention drops to his phone screen only visible in a degree of definition he hopes Garfunkel wasn't built to capture. ]

Yeah.

[ Rounding the bed instead of cutting across it, prolonging the game and the safety it offers. ]

She'll thank me for it when she needs somewhere to put me in time out.

[ Thanks to Shadowheart and Garfunkel for being the crutches of this conversation, Stephen reaching half-heartedly for the key, happy to miss if the drone takes off again. ]

[ingeniar]

[ Garfunkel moves obligingly out of reach towards the ceiling, bobbing enticingly. ]

I think she'd rather tie you up.

[ So much for being out of danger. ]

[rehandle]

[ A brief little exertion of magical effort and he's stepping on burning amber circles in the air, a staircase up to the high ceiling. At the words on his phone this time, Stephen barely blinks. ]

Obviously. But when your belt's not handy and I've said or done something that makes her not want to look at me, I'll have somewhere to sleep that isn't a couple of doors and a bathtub away.

[ Spoken breezily, casual, as he pauses with his foot on a fresh 'stair', staring at Garfunkel with all the ready attention of a cat eyeing a mouse. ]

[ingeniar]

We've really got to work on your confidence.

[ As if trying to figure out his tactics, the drone drifts to the right, then to the left, then back to the middle, where it hovers in place high above the bed. Stand-off time. Your move, Stephen. ]

[rehandle]

Maybe it's your realism that needs some work.

[ But there's a twitch to his smile as he looks up at the drone again, and an instant later Tony's flying blind. Or not flying, rather, Garfunkel plucked right out of the air by somebody's trusty companion.

There's the sound of muffled noise, butt-dial nothingness, deep-sea rustling like a call from the inside of a bag, a drone's little blades whacking uselessly against obstruction. And then light again, though nothing to really see but the top of a bookshelf from an odd angle. Stephen's voice is mostly clear, close by but off screen. ]

Responsibili-key. Nice.

[ingeniar]

[ Okay, now he's just going to call, breaking in as soon as Stephen picks up: ]

Two against one is cheating, by the way. You'd better not have harmed a single rotor on that little drone's head.

[rehandle]

[ Smug mirth in his voice if not quite laughter - ]

He's fine. Probably. I don't know, we've enacted the privacy protocol.

[ Which is to say Garfunkel's in Cloak jail until further notice. ]

[ingeniar]

[ The drone buzzes a few times, experimentally, then subsides. Clearly it's not worth the risk. ]

And I had a whole plan for asking you to strip for me. You're the one missing out here.

[rehandle]

Sorry. I think I'm contractually obligated to charge for a show.

[ Movement, Stephen wandering away from where the Cloak swallows the drone back into darkness again, the sound of metal on wood as he sets the key carefully down on his desk. ]

Did you have a spare hanging around?