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Tony is hard at work. He's got on a headset with goggles obscuring his eyes. He holds up his hands in front of his face as if he could see them, though not well, to look at him; a frown is etched on his face, and he turns his palms forward and back. "I'm going to need a better power source. Or lenses, or project." He sighs, taking the headset of, and he tosses it aside. "Definitely a better project."
No doubt a spike registers on any instrument set to register ambient energy levels. The cause? A whim.
"Oh, that one looks like it could have potential," comments the Sorcerer Supreme even as he waltzes into the lab like he owns the place. The faint crackling of the Gate continues for a moment before before he gestures at it, willing it to shrink down into itself and disappear. He returns his hands to the pockets of a black blazer overtop a plain blue t-shirt, one made for athletic wear by its fit, and tan slacks. "Though the impact of the landing on the counter there might have knocked some of the internal wiring loose…?" He asks, a faint tease in tone and slight dimpling to be seen.
Peter's comes padding down into the basement level, in a t-shirt and jeans and nothing notable otherwise. That means his acquisition of a room upstairs at his personal landing pad, complete with changes of clothes, has been completed. He looks around, "Mister Stark?" And pads into the lab, then notices Strange, "Oh. Doctor Strange. Hello." He pauses and suddenly grin, moving over to give the Doctor a careful shake of his hand. "I have news!"
Tony glances up and says, "It's fine. I'm going to redo it anyway." Distracted, he looks to the goggles, then back at Strange again, his brow knitting. "Come on in." Then Peter's coming downstairs. Tony rakes a hand through his tousled hair and says, "Hey, kid. What's up?"
"Why thank you, Stark, I shall," Strange replies with a far more insouciant cast to his grin now. He glances up and over at the arrival of another person and immediately pulls the usual air of formality about himself. No being irresponsible in front of the young generation now.
Taking the hand offered by Peter, the good Doctor returns the shake of greeting. "Mister Parker," he replies before looking to Tony appraisingly and back to the young man once more. News then?
Peter heads over to offer a hand to shake Tony's, too. Only once that's done, does Peter step back, grin, and scratch at his arm. Its a vigorous scratch until he finally has an edge, and peels the skin back slowly and steadily off his arm— revealing skin that exactly matches coloration beneath, though the randomized vector of hair and marks are different. "It's done." he declares confidently, "I mean I'm sure I'll think up an improvement later, but the mark 6 Skin-Alpha is done. We can get." Pause, glance at Strange, "…the member the skin sleeve anytime now." He blinks then at Strange. "Mister Parker?" he's baffled by that, "I'm Peter." _He_ calls everyone Mister, to be respectful.
Tony shakes Peter's hand, tendering a crooked smile when he sees Strange go all proper in the presence of the young man. Then he stands back, arms folded over his chest, and he watches Peter. His smile broadens. "Look at that," he says, and he steps forward, reaching out for the shed skin so he can examine it. "You did it. Now all we need to do is put it in an aerosol can, and we'll be saving lives on the battlefield in a heartbeat."
"Peter then," replies the good Doctor to the young man, even as he's eyeing the skin prosthetic with no small amount of interest. Ooh. Ooooh. Something new and pertaining to medicine? Catnip of the best kind, a foolproof lure for his curiosity.
"Skin…in an aerosol can?" He frowns, but it's not dismissive; rather, contemplative. He squints at the shed and tilts his head. "I remember you mentioning your project, Peter. That is quite the result." It's clear that he's dying to see precisely what has come of it, but he's the patient sort. If he hears who the skin is for during this conversation, well…bonus points.
"Oh, that's Skin-B. It needs some work still, sir. They're closely related but like, Skin-B doesn't try so hard to mimic _skin_, but focuses on enhancing the sticky and antiseptic properties, and most importantly I need to work up Skin-B-specific solvent. I might need a few weeks." Peter hands over the shed skin; one side feels skin like, the other sticky-rubbery. He looks to Strange, and grins, "There's two separate but parallel projects; the first is this, a prosthetic. It can be used for burn victims. You can't just…spray it, because aesthetics are important and that requires some random expression of the polymer chain— makes freckles here or there, you know? The setting process is then a bit more complicated." And its also for Bucky. "While working on it, I got thinking. I'm going to make a variation on the formula for a temporary skin designed for a battlefield. There aesthetics don't matter at all. Aersolize it, it sets on exposure to air or the set material, solidifies, seals." He pauses, then adds, "Complex hydrocarbon and polymers are my area of expertise." He is too young to have an expertise. "I used a lot of tech I invented for my webbing in the Skin projects." He nods to Tony then, "But I have everything needed for… our mutual friend. Do you want to set that up, Mister Stark?"
Tony can clearly hear in the back of his mind his father's voice saying 'you need a few weeks? Why isn't it ready now?' His lips thin, and he tilts his head as he examines the skin. "A few weeks won't hurt anything," he says to Peter. "Just don't back burner it. Our boys overseas will be counting on this stuff." He nods then and says, "I'll let him know."
Tony then asides to Strange, "I want to take credit, but he comes up with this stuff on his own. I'm just the guy who buys the fancy goodies. Still working on a design for prosthetics that can be controlled to work like useful limbs, but we're not quite there yet."
Strange nods to himself, following along in the explanation as to the skin's origins. He hmms almost musically to himself, looking against to the skin and from Peter to Tony as the man speaks to him. He laughs and replies to the genius-inventor,
"You'll get there in no time, I'm sure, with your work habits. I presume the material is being manufactured for a patron of your combined work then?" he asks the room as a whole.
At Strange's question, Peter clamps up; though that look in Tony's face has the kid a little nervous, too. "I won't back burner it, Mister Stark." But he's not spilling Classified Avengers Secrets to Strange, no he is not! He hesitates, adds to Tony, "I admit mechanics are not a field I'm very good with or I'd offer to help— after Skin-B is done. Later projects, though?" He looks back to Strange, and down to his hands, "Do the scars hurt, sir?" Pause, "If I can ask, I mean if that's rude…" He blushes slightly.
Tony glances between the pair of them, and he just shakes his head as he says, "It's for a mutual friend with a prosthetic." There, he hasn't given away anything classified per se, but how any mutual friends does he and Strange even have let alone one with a prosthetic? To Peter, he says, "If you want to stick around while I'm spitballing the process, you might pick something up. Ideally, a prosthetic connected to one's own nervous system would do the trick, but the reality is that would kill most of the people you tried it with, and that's a bit of a setback."
The quicksilvery mind puts pieces together and things fall into place. Dark brows rise as Strange considers Tony and then nods once, a vaguely puckish smile on his lips. He's content enough with the answer given to him.
Peter's question makes him glance down to his hands, resting lightly on the nearest laboratory countertop surface as they were, and then back to the young man. His expression closes off, but nothing so dramatic as near to a glower. Peter's faint flush is proof enough that he knows the potential sensitivity of such a subject.
"The scars twinge from time to time, yes. They healed as best they could. The metal rods are far more of a pain," he explains rather flatly. "You can imagine what sudden shifts in the weather can accomplish, I'm sure. It's nothing that I can't handle, however. Years of meditation and distraction are more than enough to take the edge away." Away go the scar-mapped hands, into the pockets of his jacket.
"Sorry, sir, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable." Peter says, his voice utterly ernest; this kid's honest desire to do good practically drips off of him. "They don't look like burns, but Skin-A could even out sensitivity issues. It would at the very least create a certain amount of insulation with— the rods— and the damaged skin itself. That was something I thought of." Pause, "Not your situation exactly, it just occurred to me. But I could set you up with a skin-sleeve, sir. No one would ever see the scars, they're designed as bioneutral, but not to deaden sensation… You like aren't an Avenger, but I didn't make this to be a thing that makes Avengers better." Though that comment lets slip out a little bit of Classified Information. In the interests of helping someone, though! He looks over to Tony, looking excitedly, "Oh, I'd love to sit in and listen to you plan, sir, if you didn't mind me asking questions. Of course, tossing a certain book at me would be a totally acceptable answer to a question. Sometimes knowing what book to read is the most important thing to know at all."
Tony glances at Strange's hands, and his expression changes not one bit. Whatever his opinion, he has for once kept his mouth shut on the topic. Since idle hands are mischievous things, he takes up the headset he's tossed aside to inspect it, trying to figure out what isn't working. "Meditation," he says. "Tried it once. Couldn't do it." He flashes a smile at Peter. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't ask questions. I could give you a few books on engineering basics, but what I do in the lab? Half the time, I'm ad-libbing, kid. There's no book until I write it."
"You couldn't meditate if your life depended on it, Stark," Strange fires back with only a smidge of ire. Meaning no ill will in the end, he smirks at the inventor before looking back to Peter. Let the ego of Tony stew on that challenge.
"Thank you for offering, Peter, and for your apology, but the scars aren't from burns and will likely not be helped by your invention. Let your work be for those who suffer more than I do. I'm in no state of dire existance." He shrugs in an attempt to be blase. "It doesn't stop me from doing my job. My suggestion, however, in regards to working with Mister Stark? Let him do all of the dangerous work." Back again is that sly little smirk as the Sorcerer's gaze slides to Tony. "I've observed that it's good for his pride."
"I was fourteen when I made the web fluid, Mister Stark, with a library card. There was no book for that." Peter points this out with one of his rare signs of confidence in his own ability. "I get ad-libbing. The book might just be some background knowledge I don't have yet on some specific issue at hand. I know I'm smart." He shrugs, "I also know I'm relatively ignorant, all things considered. Smart but ignorant isn't useful." He looks to Strange, "I don't meditate, I swing through the city until I sense danger. I suppose the swinging part could count as meditation, sir." He blinks over at Strange, "But, uh. Let's just be clear. I respect Mister Stark completely and would do anything he asks and follow his orders, you know? Him and Mister Rogers." He glances around, steps over to a table, takes a scalpal and before anyone can do anything he's slicing a cut in his arm. Blood flows…then immediately begins sealing up. "In the suit, sure, he can take lead. Anywhere a suit doesn't work, why would you send anyone but me? Well, okay, Thor. I think he's harder to hurt. Still, like. Mister Stark is a _genius_. And that's his superpower. The Arc Reactor, the Suit, they're his genius made manifest. Most of my superpower is that I got bit by a spider thi sone time." He shrugs deprecatingly.
Tony shrugs a shoulder, not arguing Strange's assertion. No, he really can't meditate. He can barely quiet his mind enough to sleep without getting sauced. "Who would want to empty this mind? Every moment it's not firing on every piston is wasted genius." He smiles at Strange winningly.
Then he snorts and says, "Sure, give me the dangerous work. I remind you, I'm the member of the team who's still crunchable."
Tony winks at Peter. "Then you'll pick up mechanical engineering in no time." He frowns at some wiring in the headset and takes up a screwdriver to disconnect some of the contacts. "And it's Captain Rogers." The praise he's given does bring a smile to his face, faint but genuine. "You'd be bright either way, spider or no spider. Your brain's more interesting to me than the party tricks."
Strange snorts at Tony's comment about emptying minds. "That's not the point of meditation," he murmurs, knowing full well it's nearly a useless argument.
Laboratory light flashing from the scalpel's keen edge brings him to sharper attention; everyone watches where those blades lie, both in and out of surgery. The good Doctor eyes the vanishing cut that rapidly heals up on Peter's skin. By the mild surprise on his face, he wasn't aware of just how sturdy the young man is. Wrestling demon donkeys are all well and good, but that healing ability is on par with a medical miracle. He comments quietly, "I wouldn't go about betting your durability against that of the Prince of Asgard. I've seen the man take hits that no human being, metaphysical power or not, would survive. Actually…" and the Sorcerer looks over his shoulder, apparently at something in the Mystical distance. "…I have something to discuss with him. If you'll excuse me. Good to see you, Stark, and you too, Peter. Good luck with your work." A faint smile and there he goes, Gating out of the laboratory with the same relative ease as he arrived, off on another Sorcerous errand.
"What you don't know is no human could have cut my own skin." remarks Peter with a wry grin, "It took some tonnage." He shrugs then, back to innocent, and looks to Tony, flushing, "Well yes, I mean, I know I'd be useful anyday. But, Mister Stark, my brain's just…there. Sure as long as I can keep the bills paid I'm happy to work for the team and think things through. But being a _hero_ is what I want to be, sir. The guy who _saves_ people." He hesitates, "I admit Skin-B will save people so maybe there's more then one way I can do that." He looks back to Stephen, "BUt no, I don't think I'd be equal to Mister Thor. Most other people, though. Anyways. Good day, sir, Doctor Strange!"
"That little pointy-eared bastard is hard to hurt," Tony says from what may or may not be experience. Regardless, he's stopped keeping booze hidden around the lab. There's no point. It always ends up going missing. He nods to Strange, his hands full of headset still. "Always a pleasure," he says.
In the wake of the Gating, he glances up to Peter. "As long as you keep that attitude, you'll do just fine," he says. "Sure, Skin-B will save people, but there are so many different ways, there's no need to pick just one."