[ Tony blinks at her for a second or two as if he's been left speechless. And actually, he has, for once. He said once that he didn't do feelings and he definitely didn't have much of a heart. Not like that girl in the Grinch story. But now? He feels something weird. A tugging feeling somewhere in the heart he said he didn't have. Except, well, that was a lie and part of him knew it when he said it. That was awhile ago, though, or something. At least, that's his excuse.
He really didn't expect anything like this, not from her, not on his birthday. ]
You know... Most people just show up with a bottle of scotch and a “Happy Birthday, Tony,” before angling for a ride in one of the cars or an invite to the next gala.
But you? You give me balloons made out of light and magic, offer me a dance, and you actually mean it.
[ There’s a pause, not long, but just long enough. Then, feeling like he's about to do something incredibly stupid that will look even more incredibly stupid, he steps forward, holding out a hand like some wannabe prince to a lady who extended her hands out to him like they're royalty and this is some fairytale ball.
A fairytale ball in a place that's nothing like a palace. ]
Alright, Ariel. You win.
[ He gives her a grin, the kind of grin that not many people get to see. It's not the smarmy press smile, or the one he uses when he's trying to schmooze someone. Or schmooze Pepper when there's something he wants that he knows she won't approve of. Not that that works, because Pepper sees through him every single time. He figures Ariel can probably see through that too, which is why he doesn't use that one. She gets the real thing. ]
You’re officially my favorite birthday present. Sorry, Lamborghini I didn’t want. You’re being outclassed by a girl who makes balloon-light magic and still thinks I’m cool.
[ He raises her hand slightly like he actually knows what he's doing. He's good at faking it, at least, so that probably counts for something. ]
So, about that dance. Fair warning: I do a mean robot, a questionable moonwalk, and something that vaguely resembles the Charleston if I’ve had enough champagne. Pepper thinks I can't really do any of them, and she's probably right, but it's all in the attitude.
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He really didn't expect anything like this, not from her, not on his birthday. ]
You know... Most people just show up with a bottle of scotch and a “Happy Birthday, Tony,” before angling for a ride in one of the cars or an invite to the next gala.
But you? You give me balloons made out of light and magic, offer me a dance, and you actually mean it.
[ There’s a pause, not long, but just long enough. Then, feeling like he's about to do something incredibly stupid that will look even more incredibly stupid, he steps forward, holding out a hand like some wannabe prince to a lady who extended her hands out to him like they're royalty and this is some fairytale ball.
A fairytale ball in a place that's nothing like a palace. ]
Alright, Ariel. You win.
[ He gives her a grin, the kind of grin that not many people get to see. It's not the smarmy press smile, or the one he uses when he's trying to schmooze someone. Or schmooze Pepper when there's something he wants that he knows she won't approve of. Not that that works, because Pepper sees through him every single time. He figures Ariel can probably see through that too, which is why he doesn't use that one. She gets the real thing. ]
You’re officially my favorite birthday present. Sorry, Lamborghini I didn’t want. You’re being outclassed by a girl who makes balloon-light magic and still thinks I’m cool.
[ He raises her hand slightly like he actually knows what he's doing. He's good at faking it, at least, so that probably counts for something. ]
So, about that dance. Fair warning: I do a mean robot, a questionable moonwalk, and something that vaguely resembles the Charleston if I’ve had enough champagne. Pepper thinks I can't really do any of them, and she's probably right, but it's all in the attitude.
So, you still wanna dance?