om_main | Bigby and Tony, backdated to 6/25/2014

Wanting to meet the guy Steve talks about all the time, Bigby tracks down Tony Stark.

Bigby was getting better at tracking every day and, with it, it was becoming easier to pick out individual scents among the mass of smells that made up everyday life. So, it hadn’t been all that hard to pick out the scent of a person--motor oil and sweat, metal and ozone-- that often clung to Steve and then follow it.

It brought him to the garage.

Tony Stark was there, just as Bigby had expected him to be, and he was working on a car.

For once Tony was working on the car with a distinct absence of music, but he was at least humming faintly to himself to make up for it. He was buried under the hood today, absently tinkering with no real goal in mind. Busywork, basically, while he was running through other things in back of his mind.

He still came within inches of clocking himself on the raised hood as he stood up, clapping a hand to the back of his head anyway and glaring at the offending piece of metal. Which was, of course, when he spotted someone else lurking. "Need something?" He asked with an arched eyebrow.

Bigby came further into the room, taking in the surroundings and its rows of expensive ones, as he contemplated what to say. He debated lying, then decided against it. Lies had their uses and he had nothing against them, sometimes they were necessary, but blunt honesty, another thing he had nothing against, felt a better choice in this situation.

“I was looking for you actually,” he replied. “I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

Interesting. Tony straightened further, one hand coming to rest on the raised car hood. "Well, here I am. What can I do for you?"

“Just wanted to meet the guy Steve won’t shut up about.” The corners of his mouth tugged up in a smile at the end, then he stepped forward and offered out a hand. “I’m Bigby.”

Well, that was unexpected. Tony blinked but took the offered hand. "Nice to meet you."

“You too,” Bigby replied, shaking Tony’s hand.

Steve’s scent clung to Tony too. People always smelled like other people. He was quickly learning that scents were being transferred all the time, be it by a hand shake, a bump in the hall, or sharing a bus ride… But the smell was only this strong when they spent a lot of time around one another.

Bigby wandered closer to the car, “What’re you working on?”

"Just poking at things," Tony said with a slight shrug, and shifted over a little to let him look under the hood if he really wanted. So long as he didn't touch anything, Tony wouldn't have to kill him. "Not much more tuning up that can be done, but a man lives in hope."

Bigby did look, but he didn’t touch. It was more out of curiosity for the sake of curiosity than anything else; he didn’t know much about the inner workings of cars. “You like fixing things?” he asked, his gaze returning to Tony. In his experience what people liked and why they liked it could say a lot about them.

It made Tony pause for a moment and glance at the other boy to see if he was actually joking or not. "You could say that," he said a little dryly.

“I just did,” Bigby replied with the same dry tone.

He leaned against the front bumper, arms folded casually across his chest. “How long have you and Steve been friends?” he asked and then smiled a small smile. “He speaks pretty highly of you.”

"Uh," Tony said intelligently and blinked, thrown off by both the question and the idea that Steve apparently spoke highly of him. "I don't know, when did he get here?"

An amused smile hid at the corners of Bigby’s mouth. “In April, I think.”

"Okay then," Tony said with a vague see, there gesture. "Since April. Ish."

“Cool,” was Bigby’s response. “I knew Steve when we were kids. We went to school together. I moved away when I was twelve.”

"Well ain't that a coincidence," Tony said a little dryly, shifting now that things had slotted into a shape that made more sense in his head. "So is this a general checking in or a warning?"

Bigby’s chuckle was quiet and dry. “Neither,” he answered. “Steve can handle himself. I told you--I wanted to meet the guy Steve wouldn’t shut up about.”

Tony shot him a vaguely suspicious look, but let that lie for the moment. The guy was apparently nothing if not laconic -- not exactly the scheming type. Still, never hurt to be cautious. "Anything else you want to know, then?" He asked with a slightly cocked eyebrow.

If Bigby was bothered by Tony’s suspicion he didn’t show it. “Any hobbies?” he asked, his voice as dry as his earlier chuckle. He had planned on trying for a casual conversation, making small talk, but it didn’t look like that would be happening.

"Besides murdering the occasional hitchhiker?" Tony just jabbed a thumb at the open car hood with a bland look.

“Of course besides that,” Bigby answered, unfazed by Tony’s sarcasm. “I thought that was a given.”

"Maybe," Tony said with a shrug. "But most of what I do is work. So it's work and a hobby. I multitask."

“Talented,” Bigby replied. “If the rest of your work is anything like the phones, it must be impressive.”

Tony grinned, an expression that steadily widened. "Of course it is. I'm a terribly impressive kind of person," he added with something that was finally like a smirk.

“Humble too,” Bigby added like he was impressed and maybe there was a bit of a smile there. “You’re a man of many talents.”

"Humble is boring," Tony said, spreading his hands out wide enough to make it clear that he wasn't entirely serious. Well, a little serious. "Remember that if you ever need anything."

Bigby arched an eyebrow, “Remember that humble is boring if I need something...from you?”

"Remember that I'm multi-talented," he corrected with a grin. "And also not humble. If you ask, I can probably do it."

Bigby smiled a little, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He had a hard time believing anything came without strings attached, but Steve liked the guy... “I have the phone already though. I don’t know what else I could need.”

"The world is full of magical things," Tony said, utterly deadpan. "You never know."

Bigby chuckled. “That is true,” he agreed, nodding as he scratched his jaw. “Very true. Life is a mystery.” His tone wry and joking.