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Tony is slumped in this conference room chair like a man who has seen the face of God and it was laughing at him. He’s got his elbows on the table, hands over his face, tie loosened, hair ruffled from him running his hands through it.
Oh, let the kids hang out with you for the day, they said. It'll be fun, they said. The cricket wont fucking escape, they said. Well, okay, no one actually said that last one. But it was implied.
He has no idea where the cricket is. Daphne caught it last weekend, brought it because she "couldn't just leave him at home. No one's there to play with him." And after about 20 minutes of trying to convince her that it wouldn't care, he just let her take it on the jet.
About 5 minutes ago it somehow got out its cage. Daphne and Peter left to go try and find it.
Harley went to "do homework." Which is about the most suspicious thing he could have said. Tony's certain he's messing with.. some systems, if the occasionally flashing lights are anything to go by.
And Riri, of course, is right across from him, legs kicked up, methodically scrolling through his phone.
“Riri,” he mumbles, “please tell me you’re not deleting anything important.”
“I’m not deleting anything,” she says without looking up. “I’m reorganizing.”
“That sounds worse.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she says, tapping away. “I’m just giving the contacts logical identifiers.”
“…And what does 'logical' mean in this scenario?"
"It means you had like three heart emojis after Ms. Potts' name, which is cringe as hell.”
Tony drags his hands down his face. “I’m allowed to have heart emojis,” he mutters, voice muffled. “It’s called being in love, you little gremlin.”
Riri snorts. "Okay, well, your love is cringe as hell."
Tony lets his head thud forward onto the table. Hopefully, if he stays down long enough maybe everyone will think he passed out and someone will escort all his children out of the building for him.
"I made a mistake," he mutters.
Before he can continue spiraling, the conference room door bangs open and Peter bursts in—hair sticking up, face flushed, breathing like he jogged here instead of just climbing through an air vent (which, unfortunately, is his usual mode of transportation).
“Mr. Stark!” he gasp-shouts. “The cricket is on the move!"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"We were trying to lure him in with blueberries, but then Harley grabbed him, like, right off the ground, which was kinda impressive. Anyways, he said—and I’m quoting—‘let’s give him a taste of power,’ and then put him on a Roomba."
Tony snaps upright so fast his neck cracks.
“I—he—he what?”
Peter’s hands fly up. “I tried to stop him! But Harley started talking about ‘empowering the little guy’ and how-how the government doesn't want crickets to rise up. I think he’s in a mood today.”
Tony shuts his eyes. “…I need.. Pepper. I need Pepper. Someone bring me my wife.”
Riri reaches over to pat his head, totally unsympathetic. “I think she’s in a meeting.”
Tony groans as someone screams from down the hall.